CHAPTER XXIII

The decree of “Coventry”

“Prepare to mount!  Mount!”

Some preliminary commands of drill were executed.  Then the serious work of the hour began.

Never had Captain Albutt commanded at a better bit of cavalry work than was done this afternoon by members of the first and second classes.

The wheelings, the facings and all the manoeuvres at the different gaits were executed with precision and dash.  All the movements in troop and squadron were carried out to perfection.

To the instructor, it was plain that the most perfect esprit de corps existed.  The cadets were acting with a singleness and devotedness of purpose which showed plainly that the perfect trooper was the sole subject of thought in their minds.  At least, so the instructor thought, from the results obtained.

Even Haynes’s face was inexpressive as he rode.

Greg was as jaunty as though he had not an unkind thought toward anyone in the world.

Cadet Prescott did not betray a sign of any thought save to do his duty perfectly.

Yet, every time that his horse was brought close to Haynes’s, Prescott had his eyes open for any foul play that might be attempted by the turnback.

“If the young men do as splendidly to-morrow before the Board of Visitors,” thought Captain Albutt, “I shall feel that my year of work here has been a grand success.  Jove, what a born trooper everyone of these young fellows seems to be!”

At last the drill was finished.  In detachments, the young cadet troopers returned to the road between the administration building and the academic building.

Here each detachment dismounted, surrendered its horses to a waiting detail of enlisted cavalrymen, and then marched in to barracks.

As soon as the young men had removed their riding leggings, and the dust from their uniforms, most of them descended into the quadrangle.

Haynes reached his room just an instant behind Pierson.

“See here, Pierson, you cad, what did you-----”

“Oh, shut up!” replied Pierson, with a weary sigh.

“Don’t you speak to me like that, sir!” cried Haynes warningly, as he stepped over to where his roommate was busy with a clothes brush.

“I don’t want to talk with you at all,” retorted Pierson.

“You’ll talk to me a lot, or you’ll answer with your fists!”

“Fight with you?  Bah!” growled the other man in disgust.

“You cad, you deliberately li-----”

But Pierson, having put his brush away, turned on his heel and left the room.

Haynes paused for an instant, his face white with a new dread.

A cadet stands low, indeed, when another cadet will not resent being called a liar by him.

“This has kicked up an awful row against me, I guess,” muttered the turnback, as he hastily cleaned himself.  “I must get down into the quadrangle, mix with the fellows and set myself straight.”