“Eavesdropping?” queried Greg calmly.

“What’s that?” snapped Cartwright, and his flush deepened.  “See here, Holmes, I don’t want any trouble with you.”

“That shows a lively sense of discretion,” smiled Greg, turning to face the other.

“But I want you to stop picking on me.  Talk about somebody else for a change!”

“With pleasure,” nodded Greg, as he shrugged his shoulders and turned to drop a spoonful of sugar in his second cup of coffee.  “There are lots of agreeable subjects for conversation in Camp Berry.”

“Meaning—–?” demanded Cartwright, still standing, and scowling, for, out of the corners of his eyes, he saw that several of his brother officers were smiling.

“Meaning almost anything that you wish,” continued Captain Holmes, serenely, as he stirred his coffee.

“Sit down, Cartwright,” urged a low voice.  “This is a gentleman’s outfit,” declared another voice, perhaps not intended to reach Cartwright’s ears.  But he heard the words and his mounting rage caused him to take a step nearer to Greg, at the same time clenching his fists.

Greg, though he realized what was taking place, did not bother to turn, but coolly raised his cup to his lips.

“Sit down,” called another voice.  “You’re rocking the boat.”

But Cartwright took a second step.  It is impossible to say what would have happened, but Dick Prescott, half turning in his seat, caught the angry captain’s nearer wrist in a grip of steel and fairly swang Cartwright into a vacant seat at his left.  Greg was sitting at his right.

“Don’t be foolish, Cartwright, and don’t let the day’s heat go to your head,” Prescott advised.  “Don’t do anything you’d regret.”

Though Captain Cartwright’s blood was boiling there was a sense of quiet mastery in Prescott’s manner and voice, combined with a quality of leadership that restrained the angry man for the next few seconds, during which Dick turned to a waiter to say: 

“This meat is cold.  Bring some hot meat for Captain Cartwright, and more vegetables.  Try some of this salad, Cartwright—–­it’s good.”

Instantly the officers, looking eagerly on, turned their glances away and began general conversation again, for they were quick to see that Dick’s usual tact was at least postponing a quarrel.

“It will be a hot afternoon for drill, won’t it?” Dick asked, in the next breath, and in a low tone.

“Maybe,” grunted Cartwright.  “But perhaps I shall find still hotter work before the drill-call sounds.”

“Nonsense!” said Dick quickly.  “After the K.O.’s talk this morning, don’t start anything that will take our mind off our work.”

“I’ve got to have a bit more than an explanation from Holmes,” the sulky captain continued, though in a low voice.

“Cartwright,” said Dick, in an authoritative undertone, “I don’t want you to start anything in that direction until you’ve had a good talk with me!”