“I have been noticing that Jordan has a good many visitors this evening,” Dick remarked.

“All from our class, too, aren’t they?” questioned Stubbs.

“Yes.  If we were yearlings I should feel sure that they had a plebe or two in there.  But first classmen don’t haze plebes.”

“No; we don’t haze plebes,” replied Cadet Stubbs with a half sigh, for Prescott was the only first classman at present in camp who did not fully know just what was in progress at Jordan’s tent.

But West Point men pride themselves on bearing no tales, so Stubbs repressed the longing to explain to Dick what Jordan was seeking to bring about.

As a matter of fact, though some of the members of the first class were hot-headed enough to accept Jordan’s view of the report against him, the class sentiment was considerably against the motion to give Cadet Captain Richard Prescott the silence, even for a week.

However, none came near Prescott to talk it over.  That again would be tale-bearing.  Dick was not likely to hear of the move unless summoned to present his own defense in the face of class charges.

Nor would Greg be approached on the subject.  The accused man’s roommate or tentmate is always left out of the discussion.

Taps sounded; almost immediately the lights in the tents went out.  Stillness settled over the encampment.

The fact that a single candle remained lighted in Prescott’s tent showed that he had permission to run a light.  The assumption would be that he was engaged on some official duty, though the fact of running a light did not in any way betray the nature of that duty.

Dick sat inside at first.  Then, one by one, the cadets returning from the hop stepped through the company streets.  At last Greg Holmes came in.

“Still engaged, Holmesy?” asked Dick, looking up with a quizzical smile.

“Surest thing on the post!” returned Greg, with a radiant smile.  He had the look of being a young man very much in love and utterly happy over his good fortune.

“Going to run a light?” asked Holmes, gaping, as he swiftly disrobed.

“Yes; but I’ll throw the tin can around so that the blaze won’t be in your eyes.”

“It won’t anyway,” retorted Greg, turning down the cover of his bed.  “I’ll turn my back on the glim.”

The “tin can” is a device time-honored among cadets in the summer encampment.  It is merely a reflector, made of an old tin can, that increases and concentrates the brilliancy of the candle light.  The “tin can” may also be used in such a way as to throw a large part of a tent in semi-darkness.

Two minutes later, Greg’s breathing proclaimed the fact that this cadet was sound asleep.

Dick, stifling a yawn—–­for it had been a long, hard and busy day—–­threw a look of envy toward his chum.  Then, in uniform, Prescott stepped out into the company street.