.

"I suppose I am expected to fight in a case like this," he said, his
voice shaking.

Some of the cadets who were always eager to see a fight of any sort, no
matter how unevenly the antagonists might be matched, quickly said:

"That's right. You must fight."

"I have never done such a thing in my life," declared Davis; "but I do
feel like it now. You have laughed at me because I promised my mother
that I would not lie, and I will give you a chance to laugh again. I
promised her I would not fight, and I shall keep my word."

"Baby boy!"

"Mamma's petsie!"

"Softie!"

These terms of derision came from several sources, and Frank was swift
to note every one.

Bascomb laughed again.

"You are altogether too good to live, Baby!" he said. "You make me
sick!"

Frank had kept quiet as long as was possible. He saw that Davis did
not mean to fight, and he made a resolve to save the plebe if possible
by taking up his quarrel.

With two swift steps Merriwell confronted Bascomb.

"Sir," he said, speaking rapidly, and in a low tone, "I have been a
witness to this entire affair."

"Well?" sneered the big yearling.

"I want to say that I think Davis perfectly right in refusing to fight
you. You are larger and older than he is, you have nearly, if not
quite, twice as much strength as he has, and your reputation is that of
a slugger. He would not stand a show with you, and you know it, for
which reason you have seemed to select him as an object of your
bullying attentions."

Frank looked Bascomb straight in the eye, and the big fellow's face
grew black with anger.

"What do you want?" he muttered.

"I want to tell you what I think of you, and I am going to do so.
Davis has been reared like a gentleman, and it is but natural that he
should recoil from contact with such as you."

"Do you mean to say I am no gentleman?"

"That is exactly what I mean to say, sir. No gentleman ever plays the
bully, as you have done."

Bascomb made a move, as if he would do something desperate, and, on the
instant, two of his particular friends caught hold of him, saying
hastily:

"Not now, old man--not here! It would spoil everything."

Now Bascomb was not longing for a fight with Merriwell, and he would
gladly have done something to cause the officers to interfere; but, to
his regret, he saw that he had been too slow about it. So he sullenly
muttered:

"All right, fellows; I won't smash him here."

"But you'll