But they were astounded.
As they stood there, staring, more explosions ripped out on the night air, over by Battle Monument.
Cadets Prescott and Holmes could see the flashes, also, close down near the ground, as though an infantry firing squad were lying prostrate and firing at will.
Bang! bang! bang! The fusillade continued.
Behind the two cadets sounded running footsteps.
"Hadn't we better duck ?" demanded Greg.
"No; it would look bad.

We had no hand in this, and we can stick to our word." Over at camp, orders were ringing out.

Though the two cadets near Battle Monument heard indistinctly, they knew it was the call for the cadet guard.
Now the nearest runner passed them.

It was Captain Bates, on a dead run, and, as Bates was not much past thirty, and an athlete, he was getting over the ground fast.
As he passed, Bates, without slackening speed, took Dick and Greg in with one swift glance.
Back in Gridley Dick and Greg certainly would have dashed onward to the scene of the excitement.

As young soldiers, they knew better.