So Cadet Jordan, first class, saluted, turned on his heel, sought
the nearest shady spot and sat down to wait.

His body idle, the young man had plenty of time to think---about
Cadet Captain Dick Prescott.

"There's nothing to Prescott but swagger and cheap airs," decided
Mr. Jordan, idly tossing pebbles. "It's a pity he can't be taken
down a peg or two! And now I'm in for demerits before the academic
year starts. Probably I shall have to walk punishment tours, too!"

Somehow, Jordan had come along through his more than three years
in the corps without attracting much attention.

He had made no strong friends; even Jordan's roommate, Atterbury,
felt that he knew the man but slightly.

True, Jordan had not so far been strongly suspected of being morose
or surly; he had escaped being ostracized, but he certainly was
not popular. If he had made no strong friendships, neither had
he so deported himself as to win enmity or even dislike. He was
regarded simply as a very taciturn fellow who desired to be let
alone, and his apparent wish in this respect was gratified.

Dick Prescott was of an entirely different character. Open, sunny,
frank, manly, he was a born leader among men, as he had always
been among boys.

Dick was a stickler for duty. He was in training to become an