The girls added their entreaties to those of their father and Mrs. Weatherby, who had been busy at household duties, entered the dining room, to urge the cadets to remain, as she had plenty of room. But Dick and Paul would not.
There was obvious disappointment in the good-byes of the two girls, but Dick and Paul cared little for that, though the two Miss Weatherbys were rather pretty, even if they were a bit silly.
The two wayfarers thanked their hosts, and, feeling much refreshed and warmed, while the horses, too, had improved by the halt, they set off again.
The snow was not coming down so fast, but it was much colder, and they hastened on, anxious to get to the academy.
"Queer about Dutton, wasn't it?" asked Dick.
"It sure was," agreed Paul. "He'll get into trouble if he doesn't look out."
"Somehow he always seems to escape, but I s'pose he'll do it once too often. This must be where we turn."
They turned into the big meadow, crossed it, and came out into a road that showed some signs of travel. It was deserted now, however, as the winter night was settling down.
"A few more miles, and then for a good, hot supper," commented Dick "Don't talk about it," said Paul. "It makes me hungry."
Suddenly his horse shied, and the cadet, looking to see what caused it, beheld a dark object, half buried in the snow, at the side of the road.
"What's that?" called Dick, who had dropped a little to the rear.
Dick forced his rather unwilling steed up to the object. The next moment he uttered a cry.
He leaped off his horse, and bent closely to the black, huddled mass. Then he reached over and took hold of it.
"It's Dutton, and he's unconscious and half frozen. Must have fallen from his horse and struck on his head! We must get him to shelter in a hurry."
Paul was quickly at his companion's side. He helped Dick lift the unconscious youth from the pile of snow. Dutton seemed to be trying to say something, but though his lips moved no sound came from them.
"What's the matter? Are you hurt?" asked Dick. "How did it happen?"
Dutton murmured something, but the words "horse" and "Stiver" were all they could distinguish.
"Maybe he's only fainted," suggested Paul. "Rub some snow on his face."
Dick tried this, but it was evident that Dutton was semi-conscious from the effects of some injury.