e offender against class ethics dares
try to remain in the service.

At the least, Jordan hoped to stir up class feeling to such an
extent that, if Prescott were not actually "cut" by class action,
at least his popularity would be greatly dimmed.

"So won't you take part in the meeting?" coaxed Jordan, as Cadet
Stubbs moved toward the door.

"I don't believe I will," replied Mr. Stubbs. "I'd feel out of
place in such a crowd, for I've always considered myself Prescott's
friend."

"Do you place your friendship for Prescott above the dignity and
honor of the class?" demanded Jordan.

Stubbs flushed.

"I don't believe I'll stay, Jordan, thank you. But I can offer
you some advice, if you feel in need of any."

"Yes? Commence firing!"

"Go slow in your grudge against Prescott. Personally, I don't
want to see either of you hurt."

"Oh, Prescott won't really be hurt," sneered Jordan. "He told
me flatly that he'd decline any calling out that I might attempt."

"You---you didn't try to call him out, did you?"

"I hinted that I might do so."

"Call him out for reporting you?"

"Oh, I didn't specify what the cause of the challenge would be,"
returned Jordan airily and with a knowing wink.

"Jordan, old fellow, you don't mean that you'd call a cadet out
for reporting you officially? Why, that's against every tenet
we have. And if such a challenge came to the ears of the
superintendent, or of the commandant of cadets, you'd be fired out
of the corps before you'd have time to turn around twice."

"Who'd carry the tale that I did call Prescott out?" retorted
Cadet Jordan, with a knowing leer.

"Prescott would, if he were a tenth part of the bootlick that
you represent him to be," replied Stubbs.

"Better stay, old man; and I'll call in a few others."

"No, sir," returned Cadet Stubbs, with a shake of his head. "The
further I go into this matter the less I like it. I'm on my way,
Jordan."

Within half an hour, however, Cadet Jordan had found three members
of the first class who were willing to listen to him. The matter
was threshed out very fully. Jordan, to his listeners, pooh poohed
at the idea that he was "sore" on his own account. He posed, and
rather well, as the champion of first-class dignity.

"I think you're on the right track, Jordan," assented Durville
rather heartily. Durville was one of the few who had never liked
Dick well. Durville had always been one of the "wild" ones, and
Pre