Dick was as anxious to meet his class as they were to reinstate him.
So he hurried along between the jubilant Holmes and Anstey.
The meeting had just quieted down again by the time that the three cadets entered the room.
But in an instant Halsey was on his feet, regardless of rules of parliamentary procedure.
"Give old ramrod the long corps yell!" he shouted.
With hardly the pause of a second it came, and never had it sounded sweeter, truer, grander than when some hundred powerful young throats sent forth the refrain: _"Rah, rah, ray! Rah, rah, ray! West Point, West Point, Armee Ray, ray, ray! U.S.M.A.!_" _"Prescott!"_ Dick Prescott's chest began to heave, though he strove to conceal all emotion.

It was sweet, indeed, to have all this enthusiasm over him, after he had so long been the innocent outcast of the class.
Tears shone in either eye.

Ashamed to raise a hand to brush the moisture away, Dick tried to wink them out of sight.
But Douglass, Durville and the others gave him no time to think.
They came crowding about him faster than they could reach him, each with outstretched hand.
Little was said.

Soldiers are proverbially silent, preferring deeds to words.

So, for nearly ten minutes, the handshaking proceeded.
At last Douglass, with a warning nod and several gestures, brought the temporary chairman to his senses.
Rap! rap! rap! rang the gavel on the desk.
"The class will please come to order," called Chairman Fullerton.
"Now, gentlemen, is there any further business to come before the class ?" "Mr.Chairman," called Douglass, "I move that we proceed to the election of a class president." "Second the motion," cried Durville.
The motion was carried with a rush.
"Mr.Chairman!" called the tireless ex-class president.
"Mr.Douglass." "Mr.Chairman and gentlemen, I am going to make a mistake that has become time honored among public speakers, that of telling you what you already know as well as I do.