Prescott's first swift conclusion was that some
scoundrel was there for wholly improper purposes.
"You rascal, I've got you!" exclaimed the plebe, crossing the room
almost in a single bound.
Swift as a flash Dick laid hands on the intruder, dragged him back
from the cot, wheeled him around and let drive a blow from the
shoulder that caught the prowler on the nose and sent him to the
floor.
"Let up, you b.j. plebe!" came a roar of smothered rage.
The body had fallen nearer the door, where the light from outside
was stronger.
Dick noted, with a thrill of dismay, that the other was attired not in
"cit." dress, but in the cadet gray.
"Hold on a minute," begged Prescott.
Striking a match he turned on the gas. As the light flamed up Dick
saw Cadet Corporal Spurlock standing before him, quivering with
rage.
"You b.j. plebe!" snarled Mr. Spurlock. "I'll take this out of you!"
"Certainly," replied Dick promptly. "But, first of all, I want to
assure you that I didn't see the uniform. I thought I had discovered
a cit. in here, and I knew no cit. could be here on any honest
business.
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