Those who were going for drill at this hour fell in at the command, of their squad marcher, and strode away to the riding hall.
Once inside, the cadets disposed of their uniform raincoats.

The squad marcher reported to Captain Albutt, who was their instructor for the afternoon.
"To horse!" came the crisp order.
Each cadet stepped to his mount, untying the animal and standing by.
Haynes's heart gave a quick jump when he saw that to Dick's lot had fallen Satan, a fiery black, the worst tempered and most treacherous horse in the lot.
"My chance is coming sooner than I had thought for", quivered the turnback.
Dropping his handkerchief, Haynes bent over and quickly slipped the black pin in at the toe of his right boot.
"When we get into column of fours I have Prescott on my right, muttered the turnback.

He had straightened up again, in almost no time, tucking the handkerchief again inside his blouse.

His act had attracted no attention.
"Prepare to mount!" rang Captain Albutt's voice.
Each cadet took hold of mane, bridle and saddle in the way prescribed and stood with left foot in stirrup.
"Mount!" Jauntily each man swung up, passing his right leg over his mounts back, then settling easily into saddle.
For the first few minutes the squad walked, trotted, cantered and galloped around the tanbark in single file.

Then their instructor, riding always near the center of the floor, threw them into platoon front at the west end of the hall.