“I wonder,” asked Dave Darrin huskily, “whether it is really necessary for me to assure you of the tremendous burden of obligation that you’ve put upon me?”

“It isn’t necessary, any way that you can look at the question,” retorted Farley promptly.  “What we did for you, Darrin, is no more than we’d stand ready to do for any man in the brigade who was being ground down and out by a mean trickster.”

“Wouldn’t I like to take peep in on Henkel, now, while the commandant is grilling him in that gentle way the commandant has?” mocked Midshipman Page.

“David, little giant, the matter is cleared and as good as squared,” cried Dalzell.  “And now I know this is the first time in my life that I’ve ever been really and unutterably happy!”

During the nest two days it was known through the brigade at large that Midshipman Henkel was in close arrest.  The brigade did not at once learn the cause.  Yet, in such appearances as Henkel was permitted to make, it was noted that he bore himself cheerfully and confidently.

Then, one day, just before the dinner formation, Darrin was ordered to report at the commandant’s office.

“Mr. Darrin,” announced Commander Jephson, when the midshipman had reported and saluted, “I am glad to be able to announce that we have been able to pile up so much evidence against Mr Henkel that young man finally confessed that it was he, and he alone, who created all the disorders with your equipment, and in your room for which so many demerits have been inflicted upon you.  At the dinner formation.  Therefore, when the orders of the day are published by the brigade adjutant, you will again hear that your demerits, given for the offenses unjustly charged against you, have been remitted by order of the superintendent.  You will also learn that you have been restored to the first conduct grade, with all the privileges belonging to the midshipmen of that grade.”

It was with a light heart that Dave Darrin left the commandant’s office, though the young man had been expecting that very decision.

Yet, despite the fact that he knew it was coming, Dave’s heart thrilled with exultation and gratitude as he heard the order read out in the brigade adjutant’s quick, monotonous tones.

Then, immediately following, came another order.

Midshipman Henkel, for dishonorable conduct, was dropped from the rolls!

“Fours right, march!”

By companies the brigade wheeled and marched into the mess hall—­the air resounding with the quick, martial tread of eight hundred or more of the pick of young American manhood!

As the command “march” was given one man fell out of the ranks.  Henkel, from the moment of the publications of the order, was no longer a midshipman!

He had fallen deservedly, as one not fit to associate with gentlemen, or to figure among the future defenders of his country of honorable men.