That night, however, nearly all of the young ladies at West Point had been favored with invitations to Cullum Hall.
Tattoo was sounding just as Prescott crossed the line at post number one on reentering camp.

In half an hour more, it would be taps.

At taps, all lights in tents were expected to be out, and the cadets, save those actually on duty, to be in their beds.
An exception was made in favor of cadets who had received permission to escort young ladies to the hop.

Each cadet who had to return to the hotel, or to officers' quarters with a young lady had received the needed permission, and the time it would take him to go to the young lady's destination and return to camp was listed at the guard tent.

Any cadet who took more than the permitted time to escort his partner of the hop to her abiding place would be subject for report.
However, the special duty imposed upon Cadet Prescott for this night related to plebes, and plebes do not go to the hops.
Bringing out his camp chair, Dick sat once more before his tent.
Down at Jordan's tent he could still hear the low hum of cadet voices.
"Something is certainly going on there," mused Prescott.
For a moment or two he felt highly curious; then he repressed that feeling.
"Good evening, Prescott." "Oh, good evening, Stubbs." Cadet Stubbs came to a brief halt before the cadet captain's tent.
"I have been noticing that Jordan has a good many visitors this evening," Dick remarked.
"All from our class, too, aren't they ?" questioned Stubbs.
"Yes.