“Admit him,” nodded the surgeon.

In another minute Captain Albutt stepped into the room, going over to the cot and resting one of his hands over the cadet’s right hand.

“How are you feeling?” asked Captain Albutt.

“Fine, sir, thank you,” replied Dick cheerily.

“I’m glad your pluck is up.  And I hear that you have a good chance.”

“I hope so, sir, with all my heart.  The Army means everything in life to me, sir.  And Captain Albutt, I want to thank you for your splendid conduct in risking your own life to save me.”

“Surely, Prescott,” replied the captain quietly, “you know the spirit of the service better than to thank a soldier for doing his duty.”

Captain Albutt had called him simply “Prescott,” dropping the “mister,” which officers are usually so careful to prefix to a cadet’s name when addressing him.  This little circumstance, slight as it was, cheered the cadet’s heart.  It was a tactful way of dropping all difference in rank, and of admitting Prescott to full-fledged fraternity in the Army.

“I shall inquire after you every day, Prescott, and be delighted when you can be admitted to the riding work again;” said the captain in leaving.  “And I think you need have no fear of seeing Satan on the tan-bark again.  If I have any influence, that beast will never be assigned to a cadet’s use after this.”

When Captain Albutt had gone Greg came in, on tiptoe.

“Out the soft pedal, old chap,” smiled Dick cheerily, as their hands met.  “I’m not a badly hurt man.  The worst of this is that it keeps me from recitations for a few days.  If it weren’t for that, I’d enjoy lying here at my ease, with no need to bother about reveille or taps.”

Greg’s manner was light-hearted and easy.  He had come to cheer up his chum, but found there was no need for it.

Then the superintendent’s adjutant dropped in on his way home from the day in the office at headquarters.  Having talked with Captain Goodwin, the adjutant agreed that there was no need, for a few days, to notify Prescott’s parents and cause them uneasiness.

“We’ll hope, Mr. Prescott,” smiled the adjutant, “that you’ll be well able to sit up and send them the first word of the affair in your own hand, coupled with the information that you’re out of all danger.”

Had it not been for his natural courage, Cadet Prescott would have been a very restless and “blue” young man.  He knew, as well as did anyone else, that the chances of his complete recovery to sound enough condition for future Army service were wholly in the balance.  But Captain Goodwin had impressed upon him that good spirits would have a lot to do with his chances.  So strong was his will that Prescott was actually almost light-hearted when it came around time to eat his evening meal of “thin slops.”

Over in cadet barracks interest ran at full height.  Greg had to receive scores of cadets who dropped in to inquire for the best word.