That explained the constrained atmosphere at this one table, the one spot in all the big room where silence replaced the merry chatter of mealtime.

“The fellows are mighty unjust!” thought Dick bitterly, as he went on eating mechanically.  He no longer knew, really, whether he were eating meat, bread or potato.

That was the first thought of Prescott.  But swiftly his view changed.  He realized about him, were hundreds of the flower of the young manhood of the United States.  These young men were being trained in the ways of justice and honor, and were trying to live up to their ideals.

If such an exceptional, picked body of young men had condemned him—–­had sentenced him to bitter retribution—–­was it not wholly likely that there was much justice on their side?

“The verdict of so many good and true men must contain much justice,” Prescott thought, as he munched mechanically, trying proudly to bide his dismay from watchful eyes.  “Then I have offended against manhood, in some way.  Yet how?  I have obeyed orders and have performed my duties like a soldier.  How, then, have I done wrong?”

Once more it seemed indisputable to Prescott that his comrades had wronged him.  But once more his own sense of justice triumphed.

“I am not really at fault,” he told himself, “nor is the class.  The class has acted on the best view of appearances that it could obtain.  I was wholly right in obeying the orders that I received from Lieutenant Denton, and equally right in not communicating those orders to a class committee.  Nor could I refrain from reporting Mr. Jordan for breach of con.  That was my plain duty, more especially as Mr. Jordan is a member of the company that I command.  But the appearances have been all against me, and I have refused to explain.  The class is hardly to be blamed for condemning me, and I imagine that Mr. Jordan, in accusing me, has not been at all reticent.  Probably, too, he has taken no extreme pains to adhere to the exact truth.  I do not see how I can get out of the scrape in which I find myself.  I wonder if the silence is to be continued until I am forced to resign and give up a career in the Army?”

With such thoughts as these it was hard, indeed, to look and act as though nothing had happened.

But Cadet Jordan, taking eager, covert looks at his enemy from another table, got little satisfaction from anything that he detected in Prescott’s face.

“Why, that b.j.(fresh) puppy is quite equal to cheeking his way on through the last year and into the Army!” thought Jordan maliciously.  “However, he’s done for!  No matter if he sticks, he’ll never get any joy out of his shoulder straps.”

Little could Jordan imagine that Prescott’s proud nature would long resist the silence.  If this rebuke were to become permanent, then Prescott was not in the least likely to attempt to enter upon his studies at the beginning of they Academic year in September.