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. Their presence over by Battle Monument had not been officially
requested. Yet, as it was not time for taps, the cadets could
and did stand where they were.