ior
medical officer heartily. "The better soldier you are, the better
your chances are of remaining in the Army."
"There won't be any need, will there, captain, to send word to my
father and mother of this accident until it is better known how
serious it is?" coaxed Dick.
"If you wish the news withheld for the present, I will direct
the adjutant to respect your wishes."
"If you will be so good, sir," begged the hapless cadet.
Hospital men were summoned and Dick was skillfully, tenderly transferred
to a cot in another room. The steward stood by and took his orders
silently from Captain Goodwin.
Hardly had this much been accomplished when a hospital service man
entered, passing a card to Captain Goodwin.
"Admit him," nodded the surgeon.
In another minute Captain Albutt stepped into the room, going over to
the cot and resting one of his hands over the cadet's right hand.
"How are you feeling?" asked Captain Albutt.
"Fine, sir, thank you," replied Dick cheerily.
"I'm glad your pluck is up. And I hear that you have a good chance."
"I hope so, sir, with all my heart. The Army means everything
in life to me, sir. And Captain Albutt, I want to thank you for
your splendid conduct in risking your own life to save me."
"Surely, Prescott," replied the captain quietly, "you know the
spirit of the service better than to thank a soldier for doing
his duty."
Captain Albutt had called him simply "Prescott," dropping the
"mister," which officers are usually so careful to prefix to a
cadet's name when addressing him. This little circumstance, slight
as it was, cheered the cadet's heart. It was a tactful way of
dropping all difference in rank, and of admitting Prescott to
full-fledged fraternity in the Army.
"I shall inquire after you every day, Prescott, and be delighted
when you can be admitted to the riding work again;" said the captain
in leaving. "And I think you need have no fear of seeing Satan
on the tan-bark again. If I have any influence, that beast will
never be assigned to a cadet's use after this."
When Captain Albutt had gone Greg came in, on tiptoe.
"Out the soft pedal, old chap," smiled Dick cheerily, as their
hands met. "I'm not a badly hurt man. The worst of this is that
it keeps me from recitations for a few days. If it weren't for that,
I'd enjoy lying here at my ease, with no need to bother about
reveille or taps."
Greg's manner was light-hearted and easy. He had com
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