that he is still absent and that
his room-mate, if disturbed at all by the "yearling fireworks," has gone
to sleep again. Stanley sees the commandant stride under the gas-lamp in
the area; sees the gathering of the "bull's-eyes," and his heart
well-nigh fails him. Still he watches until there can be no doubt that
the inspection is already begun. Then, half credulous, all delighted, he
notes that it is not Mr. Lee, but young Mr. Lawrence, the officer in
charge, who is coming straight towards "B" Company, lantern in hand. Not
waiting for the coming of the former, the colonel has directed another
officer--not a company commander--to inspect for him.

There is but one way to save Billy now.

In less than half a minute Stanley has darted into McKay's room; has
slung his chevroned coat under the bed; has slipped beneath the sheet
and coverlet, and now, breathlessly, he listens. He hears the inspector
moving from room to room on the ground floor; hears him spring up the
iron stair; hears him enter his own,--the tower room at the north end of
the hall,--and there he stops, surprised, evidently, to find Cadet
Captain Stanley absent from his quarters. Then his steps are heard
again. He enters the opposite room at the north end. That is all right!
and now he's coming here. "Now for it!" says Stanley to himself, as he
throws his white-sleeved arm over his head just as he has so often seen
Billy do, and turning his face to the wall, burrows deep in the pillow
and pulls the sheet well up to his chin. The door softly opens; the
"bull's-eye" flashes its gleam first on one bed, then on the other. "All
right here," is the inspector's mental verdict as he pops out again
suddenly as he entered. Billy McKay, the scapegrace, is safe and Stanley
has time to think over the situation.

At the very worst, as he will be able to say he was "visiting in
barracks" when found absent, his own punishment will not be serious. But
this is not what troubles him. Demerit for the graduating class ceases
to count after the 1st of June, and the individual sense of honor and
duty is about the only restraint against lapses of discipline. Stanley
hates to think that others may now believe him deaf to this obligation.
He would far rather have had this happen when demerit and "confinements"
in due proportion had been his award, but there is no use repining. It
is a sacrifice to save--her brother.

When half an hour later his classmate, the officer of the day,