CHAPTER XII.
READY TO BREAK THE CAMEL'S BACK From Thanksgiving to Christmas the time seemed to fly all too fast for most of the young men of the corps of cadets.
Dick Prescott, however, had never known time to drag so fearfully.
Cut off from association with any but Greg, Dick had much, very much time on his hands.
Full of a dogged purpose to stick to his word given to Lieutenant Denton, Prescott used nearly all of his waking time in study when he was not at recitation.

In his classes he soared.

In engineering and law, the studies of this term which called for the most exacting thought, Prescott showed unusual signs of "maxing," or getting among the highest marks.

Yet, after all this was done, so much leisure did the lonely Dick have that he found time to coach Greg and pull him along over the hard parts.
"Look at that fellow recite! Look where he stands in the sections!" growled Durville in bewilderment to Jordan.
"It looks as if the sneak meant to stick," uttered Jordan incredulously.
"Yet of course he knows he can't.

If it were only for West Point he might stick, but the Army, through his lifetime, would be just as bad for him." It had been a general notion that Prescott, either too proud or too stubborn to allow himself to be forced out, would wait and "fess out cold" at the January semi-annuals.