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But the piece of boyish mischief that brings such keen delight to the youngsters in the battalion strikes terror to the heart of Philip Stanley. He knows all too well that an immediate inspection will be the result, and then, what is to become of McKay? With keen anxiety, he goes to the hall window overlooking the area, and watches the course of events. A peep into McKay’s room shows that he is still absent and that his room-mate, if disturbed at all by the “yearling fireworks,” has gone to sleep again. Stanley sees the commandant stride under the gas-lamp in the area; sees the gathering of the “bull’s-eyes,” and his heart well-nigh fails him. Still he watches until there can be no doubt that the inspection is already begun. Then, half credulous, all delighted, he notes that it is not Mr. Lee, but young Mr. Lawrence, the officer in charge, who is coming straight towards “B” Company, lantern in hand. Not waiting for the coming of the former, the colonel has directed another officer–not a company commander–to inspect for him.

There is but one way to save Billy now.

In less than half a minute Stanley has darted into McKay’s room; has slung his chevroned coat under the bed; has slipped beneath the sheet and coverlet, and now, breathlessly, he listens. He hears the inspector moving from room to room on the ground floor; hears him spring up the iron stair; hears him enter his own,–the tower room at the north end of the hall,–and there he stops, surprised, evidently, to find Cadet Captain Stanley absent from his quarters. Then his steps are heard again. He enters the opposite room at the north end. That is all right! and now he’s coming here. “Now for it!” says Stanley to himself, as he throws his white-sleeved arm over his head just as he has so often seen Billy do, and turning his face to the wall, burrows deep in the pillow and pulls the sheet well up to his chin. The door softly opens; the “bull’s-eye” flashes its gleam first on one bed, then on the other. “All right here,” is the inspector’s mental verdict as he pops out again suddenly as he entered. Billy McKay, the scapegrace, is safe and Stanley has time to think over the situation.

At the very worst, as he will be able to say he was “visiting in barracks” when found absent, his own punishment will not be serious. But this is not what troubles him. Demerit for the graduating class ceases to count after the 1st of June, and the individual sense of honor and duty is about the only restraint against lapses of discipline. Stanley hates to think that others may now believe him deaf to this obligation. He would far rather have had this happen when demerit and “confinements” in due proportion had been his award, but there is no use repining. It is a sacrifice to save–her brother.

When half an hour later his classmate, the officer of the day, enters the tower room in search of him, Stanley is there and calmly says, “I was visiting in barracks,” in answer to his question; and finally, when morning comes, Mr. Billy McKay nearly sleeps through reveille as a consequence of his night-prowling; but his absence, despite the simultaneous inspection of every company in barracks, has not been detected. With one exception every bed has had its apparently soundly sleeping occupant. The young scamps who caused all the trouble have escaped scot-free, and the corps can hardly believe their own ears, and Billy McKay is stunned and perplexed when it is noised abroad that the only man “hived absent” was the captain of Company “B.”

It so happens that both times he goes to find Stanley that day he misses him. “The commandant sent for him an hour ago,” says Mr. McFarland, his room-mate, “and I’m blessed if I know what keeps him. Something about last night’s doings, I’m afraid.”