Each enlisted man held the bridle of another horse than the one he rode.

As the corporal dismounted his men, the cadets, at the word from their marcher, moved forward and took their mounts.

At the command, the detachment rode forward, by twos, at a walk, down the road that led to the cavalry drill ground below the old South Gate.
It was Greg who rode beside his chum.

In the drill, later, when in platoon front or column of fours, it would be Haynes who would ride on Dick's left.
The turnback had already made sure that his useful black pin was securely fastened inside his fatigue blouse.
Arrived at the drill ground, the cadets dismounted, standing by their horses in a little group until Captain Albutt should ride out of one of the cavalry stables and take command.
Haynes, with a rapid throbbing of his pulses, bent forward and down, pretending to examine his horse's nigh forefoot.
As he did so, with an expertness gained of practice, Haynes slipped the head of the black pin in under the front of the sole of his right boot.

Then he straightened up again, chatting with Pierson.
"I say, Haynes," drawled Anstey, a few moments later, glancing at the turnback's right foot, "that's a dangerous-looking thing you have in your boot." "What's that ?" demanded Haynes, losing color somewhat, yet pretending to be surprised.
"That long pin, sticking out of the front of your right boot," continued Anstey, pointing.
Haynes glanced down, saw the thing, and pretended to be greatly astonished.
"How did I get that thing in my shoe ?" he cried.
Then, with an appearance of indolent indifference that was rather overdone, the turnback stooped low enough to extract the pin.
But his fingers trembled in the act, and half a dozen cadets noted the fact.
"That's a reckless bit of business, Haynes," continued Anstey in a voice that did not appear to be accusing.
"Reckless ?" gasped Greg Holmes.