"Now, after letting you in for an awful verbal flogging," smiled
Dick curiously, "I'll let you into a secret. I wrote a letter of
resignation, too."
"When?" gasped Cadet Holmes amazed.
"Two days ago," confessed Dick. "I read it through six times before
sending it to the superintendent."
"You didn't--send it to the superintendent?" gasped Greg.
"No; because I also tore it to fine bits before sending it to
headquarters--and so the letter never reached the one to whom it
was addressed," laughed Cadet Prescott. "Now, look here, Greg.
Admit that you were a prize simpleton, just as I was. Let's start
anew--with a bang-up motto. This is it: 'A Gridley boy may die, but
resign--never!'"
Dick struck such a dramatic attitude that both poor young plebes
began to laugh heartily.
"Oh, and now for the news that brought me back here hotfoot," ran
on Prescott glibly. "Greg, you never could guess who's here at
West Point."
"The President, or the Chief of the General Staff?" asked Holmes
slowly.
"Oh, pshaw, no! They don't either one amount to as much as the
fellow I'm talking about thinks he amounts to.
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