“That’s what,” added Fred.  “He struck Jack after Jack told him he didn’t believe in fighting.”

“He couldn’t save himself because he was too close to the wooden horse,” came from Coulter, who felt bound to stick up for his crony.  “It wasn’t fair to run him up against the horse.”

“Coulter, a poor excuse is worse than none,” answered Dale.

“Ritter was knocked out fair and square,” came from Bart Connors.

While the talking was going on, Paxton had rushed off for water.  Now he returned with a pailful and a sponge, and commenced to bathe the fallen one’s face.  Ritter soon opened his eyes and gave a groan.

“Le—­let me al—­alone,” he muttered.

“Get up, Reff,” said Paxton.  “Go for him again.”

“I—­I can’t,” mumbled the bully, and now it was seen that two of his front teeth were loose.  He stared around in a helpless fashion.  Paxton put some more water on his face.

“Has he had enough?” demanded Jack, stepping up.

“You go away,” answered Coulter, surlily.

“You wouldn’t hit him when he’s down, would you?” snapped Paxton.

“I asked you if he had enough.  If he has, I’m going for a sail.”

“I’ll—­I’ll finish this some other time,” mumbled Ritter, as he glared at the young major.

“No, Ritter, you’ll finish it now if you finish it at all,” answered Jack, coldly.  “You started this fight, and now you must take the consequences.  Get up, if you want to go at it again.”

“I don’t want to fight—­now.”

“Then you acknowledge yourself beaten?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Then get up.  I don’t want to wait here all afternoon for you.”

“He has all he wants,” said Pepper.  “He won’t get up.”

“It’s your fight, Ruddy,” cried Joe Nelson.

“So it is,” put in half a dozen cadets.

“Ritter is beaten and he knows it,” added Harry Blossom, the first lieutenant of Company A.

“I—­er—­I won’t fight any more now,” mumbled the bully.  He got up slowly and then, staggering to a bench, sank down heavily upon it.  Evidently his punishment at Jack’s hands had been heavy.

“Boys!  Boys! what is the meaning of this?”

It was a loud and harsh voice from the doorway of the gymnasium that startled all of the assembled cadets.  The next instant Josiah Crabtree, the head teacher, strode in.

“Skip, Jack, here is old Crabtree!”

“Run for it, Reff!”

“I demand to know what is going on here?” went on Josiah Crabtree, in his high-pitched voice.  “Who is fighting?”

There was no reply.  The assembled cadets looked at each other.  No one felt like saying a word.

“Ritter, have you been fighting?” went on the head teacher, noticing the bully’s condition.

“I was—­er—­that is, Ruddy attacked me, and I—­er—­I defended myself,” stammered the defeated one.

“Ruddy?  Do you mean Major Ruddy?” questioned Josiah Crabtree, in astonishment.