Yet everyone of these plebes received many a handshake from the upper classmen and a hearty good wish for success in life.

More doleful still felt the dropped third classmen, who had been at the Military Academy for two years, and who had thoroughly expected to “get through” into the Army somehow.

It was now a little before the time when cadets must hasten to quarters to attire themselves for dress parade.

Several score of cadets still lingered in the quadrangle when Greg Holmes and Pierson suddenly appeared, heading straight for one of the largest groups, in which Dick Prescott stood.

“Heard any news lately?” asked Greg, a pleased twinkle in his eyes.

“Nothing startling.  We’ve been supplying new, dry handkerchiefs to the poor, late plebes,” answered Brayton.

“Haven’t heard about that fellow Haynes?” asked Greg.

“Nothing,” admitted Brayton.

“Well, you see,” exclaimed Pierson, “Haynes made up his mind to disregard the grand cut.  He determined to stick it out, anyway, even for a whole year.”

“He’ll have a sweet time of it, then,” put in Spurlock dryly.  “I never heard of a fellow who got the general cut lasting a whole year here before.”

“That was Haynes’s decision, anyway,” went on Pierson.  “This is no guess work.  The fellow told me so himself.”

“I reckon, suh, maybe we’ll be able to change his mind,” drawled Anstey.

“No you won’t,” broke in Greg decisively.  “Haynes got in bad on the last two days of general review.  Chemistry and Spanish verbs threw him.  So he was ordered up for a writ (written examination) in both subjects.  He fessed frozen on both of them.  He applied for a new examination in a fortnight, but the fact that Haynes was already a turnback went against him.”

“He’s `found,’ eh?” questioned Brayton, smiling gleefully.

“Dropped,” nodded Pierson.

“Fired!” added Greg, with a look of satisfaction.  “There’s no getting around the truth of the old superstition, fellows!”

The “old superstition” to which Holmes referred is one intensely believed in the cadet corps.  While there is nothing whatever to prevent a sneak from being admitted to the United States Military Academy, the cadets believe firmly that a dishonorable fellow is bound to be caught, before he graduates, and that he will be kicked promptly out of the service by one means or another.

“Has the fellow gone yet?” inquired Spurlock.

“He’ll slip away while the rest of us are away at dress parade, I guess,” responded Pierson.  “Haynes is in cit. clothes already, and is just fussing around a bit.”

“He must feel fine!” muttered Brayton musingly.  “I could almost say `poor fellow.’”

“So could I,” agreed Prescott, with a good deal of feeling.  “It would break my heart to be compelled to leave the corps, except at graduation, so I can imagine how any other fellow must feel.”