"Jove, he'll crash into that car!" cried Dick aloud. "Why don't they keep that infernal horn still? It's making him wilder," for the autoists were frantically tooting away. "I've got to get in ahead of him, and ride him off to one side," thought our hero. "Rex, old boy, I hate to do it, but--just a touch." Gently Dick pricked his pet animal with the spurs--just a touch, for voice was not quite incentive enough. Like a shot Rex sprang forward, and covered the ground so rapidly that in another brief instant the young millionaire was ahead of his friend, and between Spitfire and the now stationary auto. Then, with the skill of long practice, Dick urged Rex up to Spitfire, who was losing speed, and a moment later the frightened steed had been forced off the road, into the grassy side path, and headed toward a fence, which effectually stopped farther progress. "Well ridden! Excellently well ridden!" cried the man at the wheel of the auto. Dick saluted, for there were several ladies in the car, and then turned to Paul. "All right, old man," he asked anxiously. "Yes, but I might not have been a little later. I should have looked to my reins. Thanks--for coming as you did," and Paul warmly grasped Dick's hand. "You knew I'd come. Now let's see if we can mend that leather and ride back. Are you game?" "Oh, sure. I fancy Spitfire has had all he wanted for to-day." In fact the animal was much subdued after his run. The auto passed on, not even the tooting of the horn causing Paul's steed to prance. Then he and Dick managed to patch up the curb leather, and rode back to meet the other cadets. "Don't spur up so suddenly when other horses are too near you," advised the young captain to Porter, who seemed a bit ashamed of the trouble he had caused. "I beg your pardon, old man--and yours, Captain," spoke the lad, who though impulsive, was not a bad fellow at heart. "All right," answered Dick easily. "We'll take it a little more slowly now." They finished the ride in about two hours, reaching the academy as the last of the other riding squads came in. Dick made no report of the little incident which, but for his promptness, might have had a fatal, or at least a serious, ending. Rifle practice, and field telegraph work occupied the rest of the day, and there was a final drill and inspection in the late afternoon. "A pretty strenuous day," remarked Paul to Dick, as they went to their room that evening. "Yes, and there'll be another to-morrow." "How so?" "We must get in some good football practice, for I expect the two coaches soon, perhaps to-day." "Then Martin and Spencer are both coming?" "Yes, the good salary and the influence of the old grads, including dad, brought them around." "I'm glad of it. Now Kentfield will do something." Out on the gridiron were a score or more of the mole-skin clad warriors, doing all sorts of things to a harmless pigskin spheroid. It was booted and passed about.