Cora was consulting a time table.  She looked up from it and said: 

“It will all come right, sir.  There is another train at half-past eight.  If she should take that, she will reach West Point in full time for the opening of the exercises.  We started unnecessarily early.”

“I always take time by the forelock, Cora.  That habit is one of the factors of my success in life.”

The express train flew on, and in due time reached Garrison’s, opposite West Point.  The ferry boat was waiting for the train.  As soon as it stopped, Mr. Rockharrt handed his granddaughter out.  The other passengers followed, and made a rush for the boat.

“Let it go, Cora.  We must take time to telegraph to Mrs. Stillwater, and we can wait for the next trip,” said Mr. Rockharrt, still keeping a firm grip on his granddaughter’s arm, lest through woman’s inherent stupidity she should also lose herself, as he marched her off to the telegraph window of the station.

The telegram, a very long-winded one, was sent.  Then they sat down to wait for the coming boat, which crossed the going one about midstream, and approached rapidly.

In a few minutes they were on board and steaming across the river.

They reached the opposite bank, and Mr. Rockharrt led his granddaughter out, and placed her in the carriage he had engaged by telegraph to meet them, for carriages would be in very great demand, he knew.

They drove up to the hotel in which he had taken rooms.  Here they went into their parlor to rest and to wait for an answer to the telegram.

“It is no use going over to the academy now.  We could not get sight of Sylvan.  The rules and regulations of the military school are as strict and immutable as the laws of the Medes and Persians,” said old Aaron Rockharrt, as he dropped heavily into a great armchair, leaned back and presently fell asleep.

Cora never liked to see him fall into these sudden deep slumbers.  She feared that they were signs of physical decay.

She sat at a front window, which, from the elevated point upon which the hotel stood, looked down upon the brilliant scene below, where crowds of handsomely dressed ladies were walking about the beautiful grounds.  She sat watching them some time, and until she saw the tide of strollers turning from all points, and setting in one direction—­toward the academy.

Then she glanced at her grandfather.  Oh! how old and worn he looked when he lost control of himself in sleep.  She touched him lightly.  He opened his eyes.

“What is it?  Has the telegram come from Mrs. Stillwater?” he inquired.

“No, sir; but the visitors are pouring into the academy, and I am afraid, if we do not go over at once, we shall not be able to find a seat,” said Cora.

“Oh, yes, we shall.  Strange we do not get an answer from Mrs. Stillwater,” said the old man anxiously, as he slowly arose and began to draw on his gloves and looked for his hat.