They exchanged a few words, then-----

Ta-ra-ta-ra-ta-ra-ta!

It was the bugle calling the assembly.

Swiftly Greg sprang across the road to form his troop, while Anstey formed the other.

Both acting troop leaders turned to report to Dick that their respective troops were formed.

Then Prescott, for the last time as a cadet, marched the class across the plain at swift, rhythmic tread, to where the veteran cavalry horses stood saddled and tethered.

Reaching the cavalry instructor, Prescott halted, saluted, and reported his command.

“Stand to horse!” ordered the instructor briskly.  There was a dash; in another instant each cadet stood by the head of his selected mount.

“Prepare to mount!”

Each cadet seized mane and bridle, also thrusting his left foot into stirrup box.

“Mount!”

Like so many figures operated by machinery, the first classmen rose, throwing right legs over saddles, then settling down in the seat.  Then, all in a twinkling, the ranks reformed.

“Mr. Prescott, take command of the squadron, sir!” rang the instructor’s voice.

Dick thrilled with pleasure as he received the command with a salute.  He had not looked, but he knew that those dearest to him were in the crowd beyond, looking on.

“Draw sabre!” sounded Dick’s not loud but clean-cut order.

Greg and Anstey repeated the order in turn.  Instantly all down the strong line naked steel leaped forth.  The sabres sprang to the “carry,” and the superb picture breathed of military might.

Cadet Captain Dick Prescott, well in advance, sat facing his squadron; he throbbed with a soldier’s ardor at the beauty of the scene.

“Fours right!” he shouted.

“Fours right!  Fours right!” sounded in the differing tones of Greg and Anstey.

“March!”

“March!  March!”

Into a long column of fours, to the tune of jingling accoutrements, the squadron swung.  Prescott wheeled about and rode forward at a walk.  In the same instant, the bugler, a musician belonging to the Regular Army, trotted forward, then slowed down to a walk close to the young squadron commander.  From that time on, all the commands were to be given by the bugle.

“Trot!  March!” traveled on clear, musical notes, and the long line of young horsemen moved forward at a faster gait.  There was none of the bumping up and down in saddle that disfigures the riding taught in most riding schools.  These gray-clad young centaurs rode as though parts of their animals.

Straight past the canvas shelter that had been erected for the superintendent, the Board of Visitors and their ladies, swung the four platoons in magnificent order and rhythm.

Then, on the return, the young cavalrymen swept, at a gallop, by platoons, in echelon and by column of squads.  This done, the cadets rode forward, baiting in line before the reviewers.  Here the senior cavalry instructor rode in front and gave the command: