“I am under the impression,” replied Pierson, “that this is not a personal matter so much as it is a class affair.”

But Haynes, feeling that he was almost cornered, became reckless and desperate.

“This is a personal matter, Pierson.  Stand aside until I knock that cur down.”

“From any other man in the detachment,” spoke Greg bitterly, “I would regard the use of that word an insult.  Haynes, if you hit me, I shall knock you clean into the Hudson River.  But I will not accept any challenge to fight until the class has passed on this matter.”

“The class has nothing to do with it,” insisted Haynes.

“I think the class has,” broke in Pierson.  “When the time comes I shall have considerable to say.”

“Then say it now!” commanded Haynes, glaring at his roommate.

“I will,” nodded Pierson.  “The other night, Haynes, I was awakened to find you walking about the room in your sleep.  You also talked in your sleep.  At the time I could make nothing of it all.  Now, I think I understand.”

Then Cadet Pierson swiftly recounted what he had seen and what he had heard that night in the room.

“You were fingering something on the left front of your blouse, and while doing so, you made the distinct remark that this was what had done the trick for Prescott,” charged Pierson.  “I did not see what it was that you were fingering, but the next day, the first chance I got, I, too, examined the left front of your blouse.  I found a small, black pin fastened there.  It has been fastened there every time since when I have had a chance to look at your fatigue blouse hanging on the wall.”

“I am not responsible for what I say when I’m sleepwalking,” cried Haynes in a rage.  “And, besides, Pierson, you’re lying.”

“I’ll wager that not a man here believes I’m lying,” retorted Pierson coolly.

“No, no!  You’re no liar, Pierson!” cried a dozen men at once.

“Is there a black pin inside your blouse at this moment?” challenged Greg.

“None of your business,” cried the turnback hoarsely.

“I demand that you show up, or stand accused,” insisted Cadet Holmes.

“I’ll show up nothing, or take any orders from anyone who tries to lie my good name away,” retorted Haynes.  “But at least two of you will have to fight me mighty soon.”

“I won’t fight you,” retorted Greg bluntly, “until the class declares you to be a man fit to fight with.”

“Nor I, either,” rejoined Pierson decisively.  “Stand aside, you hound, and let me get at that cur behind you!” cried Haynes hoarsely.

“Attention!” called the detachment marcher formally.  “The instructor for the day!”

Captain Albutt rode out of the nearest cavalry stable, mounted on his own pure white horse.

At the order of the marcher each cadet fell back to the lines of his own mount.

When Captain Albutt reached the detachment he saw nothing to indicate the disturbance that had just occurred.