an, intent on guessing when would be the most favorable moment
for sending in the message that should call Prescott out to his
doom.

One of the watchmen, a soldier, in the quartermaster's department,
belted, and with a revolver hanging therefrom in its holster,
passed by and noted Jordan.

"Are you waiting for anyone, sir?" asked the watchman, halting
a moment, though only in mild curiosity.

"I'm going to send a message in, after the music stops, for my
cousin," replied Jordan, who knew that he must give some account
of himself.

"Your cousin? A cadet?" asked the watchman.

"Oh, yes. Mr. Atterbury, of the first class," responded Jordan,
giving the name of his former roommate at a venture.

"Very good, sir," replied the watchman, and passed on.

Mr. Atterbury, however, at that very moment, chanced to be standing
on the further side of a tree not far distant, and with him were
two other first classmen.

"Who is that fellow?" queried Atterbury in a low whisper. "I've
seen him around here before this, and his voice sounds mighty
familiar."

The passing watchman heard the question, so he answered: "He says
he is your cousin, sir!"

"He is not my cousin," replied Atterbury with strange sternness.
"And, since the fellow is here in disguise, it ought to be our
business to ask him some questions. Come on, fellows!"

Atterbury strode out of the shadow, followed just a second later
by "Durry" and "Doug."

The prowler's first instinct was to run, but he dare not; that
would proclaim guilt.

"See here, sir," demanded Atterbury, striding straight up to the
stoop-shouldered, bewhiskered one, "your name is Jordan, isn't it?"

"No!" lied the wretch, in a voice that he strove to disguise.

"Yes, it is," insisted Atterbury. "Rooming with you nearly four
years, I can't be fooled with any suddenly pickled voice. Jordan,
what are you doing here in disguise?"

"I don't know that my presence here is any of your business,"
growled the ex-cadet.

"Yes; it is," insisted Atterbury. "And you'll give us an account,
too, or we'll lay hold of you and turn you over to some one official."

At that threat Jordan turned to bolt. As he did so, three cadets
sprang after him. At the third or fourth bound they had hold of
him and bore him, fighting, to the earth.

Even now Jordan used his splendid physique and strength in a
determined, bitter struggle.

But "Durry" helped turn the fellow over, face down, and then all
th