"I'm not going to get into a row with the K.C. for a stupid little
violation like that," he muttered.

Presently Dick's stroll took him over in the neighborhood of "Execution
Hollow," the depression in the ground below where the reveille gun
is stationed.

Suddenly Dick halted, an amused look creeping into his face.

"Now, who'd suspect good old Greg of getting into sheer mischief,
all by himself?" the class president asked himself.

For Holmes was bending a bit low, a hundred yards or so away, and
stealing toward the fieldpiece that does duty as reveille gun.

"It would be a shame to bet on what Greg's up to---it would be
too easy!" muttered Prescott, standing behind a flowering bush
at the road's edge. "Greg is going to load the reveille gun,
attach a long line to the firing cord, and rig it across the path
here, so that some 'dragger,' coming back from seeing his 'femme'
home, will trip over the cord and fire the gun. The dragger can't
be blamed for what he didn't do on purpose, and cute little Greg
will be safe in his tent. But if Greg should happen to be caught
it might mean the bounce from the Academy! And, oh, wow!"

Cadet Prescott's heart seemed to stop beating. Glancing down
the road he saw a man standing, there, in the olive drab uniform
of the Army officer. Captain Bates, of the tactical department,
was quietly watching unsuspecting Cadet Holmes.