While the reading was going on the Adjutant of the Military Academy came through the sally-port leisurely, as soon as he saw that the men were still in ranks.

Dick did not see the Adjutant, either.  If he had, he might hardly have heeded the presence of that Army officer, the personal representative of the superintendent.

But, just as the cadet captain let fall the hand in which he had held the notices the adjutant called out crisply: 

“Don’t dismiss, Captain!  Hold the companies!”

Between two of the companies stepped the adjutant, then walked to the front of center.  Drawing, a paper from his overcoat, the adjutant began to read.  It was a “special order.”

Even to this Prescott listened only with unhearing ears—–­at first.

Then, though he betrayed no more audible interest than did any of the other men in gray, Dick Prescott found his head swimming.

This special order referred to his own case.  It was a report of the findings, these findings having been duly approved.

Cadet Richard Prescott’s head began to whirl.  The bright day seemed darkening before his dimmed vision, until he heard, unmistakably, the one word: 

“Acquitted!”

What followed was a further order releasing him from arrest and restoring him to the usual cadet privileges.

“That is all, Captain,” added the adjutant, folding the order and returning it to his overcoat.  “Dismiss the companies when ready.”

“Dismiss the companies!” came from the cadet battalion commander.

The separate commands of the various company commanders rang out.  Ranks were broken—–­and friends in gray crowded about the yearling.

Then the corps yell was called for and given, with his name added.  Some of the cadets slipped in through the sally-port, sooner than join in the demonstration.

“Thank you all—–­it’s jolly good of you!” cried Prescott huskily.

As soon as these comrades in arms would let him, he broke through and made for his room.

“Hooray!” yelled Greg, turning loose.

And Cadet Anstey thrust his head into the room long enough to add: 

“Hooray!”

But Dick, half stripped above the waist, was at the washstand, making a thorough toilet, though a hurried one.

Greg waited, his eyes shining.

“It’s mighty good of you all,” cried Dick, as he was pulling on his cadet overcoat.  “I wish I could stop and talk about it—–­but there a duties that can’t be hurried fast enough.”

“Give my regards,” called Holmes jovially after Prescott.

Crossing the barracks area, Dick strode into cadet guard-house, nimbly mounting the stairs to the second floor.  Here he stood in the office of the O.C.

Saluting, he carefully phrased his request for leave to visit friends at the hotel.

This being granted, Dick went down the stairs at the greatest speed consistent with military dignity under the circumstances.