This he did, then left the room.
Crossing the area he climbed the stairs to the office of the O.C.
Pausing at the threshold, he saluted, then was bidden to enter.
Dick's report was quickly made.

He was then permitted to return to quarters.
As Cadet Prescott threw open his door the room was in darkness, hardly any light entering from the hallway.
As Dick stepped into the room he was startled to see a dimly defined figure bending over his cot.
In the poor light it seemed to Prescott that the intruder wore the attire of a "cit." Now, no civilian had any right in the room, nor in cadet barracks, for that matter.

Prescott's first swift conclusion was that some scoundrel was there for wholly improper purposes.
"You rascal, I've got you!" exclaimed the plebe, crossing the room almost in a single bound.
Swift as a flash Dick laid hands on the intruder, dragged him back from the cot, wheeled him around and let drive a blow from the shoulder that caught the prowler on the nose and sent him to the floor.
"Let up, you b.j.

plebe!" came a roar of smothered rage.
The body had fallen nearer the door, where the light from outside was stronger.
Dick noted, with a thrill of dismay, that the other was attired not in "cit." dress, but in the cadet gray.
"Hold on a minute," begged Prescott.
Striking a match he turned on the gas.

As the light flamed up Dick saw Cadet Corporal Spurlock standing before him, quivering with rage.
"You b.j.