A MYSTERY SOLVED

The end of March brought with it to Annapolis a veritable blizzard; the ground everywhere was covered with snow. The soft snow, clinging to the tree branches, had commenced to melt, when promise of good weather suddenly changed to sharp cold, followed by another snow-storm. The intense cold had turned the trees into glistening skeletons, and the powdered white falling upon them made a beautiful picture, but the weight caused many branches to break, and Annapolis presented a most wintry spectacle. And then of a sudden out burst the sun, sending down hot rays that in a few days turned winter into spring. In but a short time all the trees were budding and spring, turning rapidly into summer, came with leaps and bounds and the bleak desolate days were soon forgotten.

There remained to Robert Drake but two months more of Academy life—two months of deep contentment. He surveyed his previous four years and drew much satisfaction in contemplating them. He was sure to graduate high in his class, with probably only Stonewell, Farnum, Sewall and Ryerson ahead of him. He had had troubles, but everything now seemed clear sailing before him.

Midshipmen enjoy these last months of the school year. Out of town friends by the hundreds come to Annapolis, and after drills and on Saturdays and Sundays, the Naval Academy grounds are thronged with pretty girls, each flanked by at least one midshipman, and some by ten.

Every afternoon saw the midshipmen at their infantry or artillery drills, marching and executing military movements with precision that betokened much practice; or if not on the parade grounds the young men were to be seen in the steam launches, or else in the shops. After drill hours till seven o'clock four racing shells were out on the Severn River. The athletic field was sure to be crowded by baseball players; the tennis-courts always had a waiting list. And far off on the superstructure deck of the "Nevada," unknown and unseen by other midshipmen, were Robert Drake and four classmates, practicing loading and aiming with a six-pounder gun. Day after day this drill went on, always in recreation times.

Robert took the shoulder-piece, finger on trigger, keeping his gun aimed at some boat moving in the Severn River. He was, according to the prescribed gun drill, "First Pointer."

Peters was the "sight setter." He ran up the rear sight according to the distance away of the object aimed at, and also he would move the rear sight to the right or left, according to the speed the boat was moving.

Glassfell was loader, and as such acting gun captain. Robert picked out two other classmates, Taylor and Warren, to act as shell-men.

"All ready now, fellows," cried Glassfell, late one beautiful April day; "let's have one more drill to-night and then we'll knock off. We'll start with the gun empty and breech closed. Lenn, you throw down the breech as usual after each make-believe shot—you won't have to when we really fire the gun because the gun is semi-automatic and the discharge of one shot opens the breech, ready to load the next one."

"I learned that years ago, Mr. Glassfell. But I'll open the breech for you. We're all ready, sir."

"Load," rang out Glassfell's voice. Down went the breech, and instantly Glassfell threw in a dummy cartridge, and up slammed the breech, closing the gun with a click.

Robert snapped the trigger, and instantly Lenn threw down the breech; the dummy was ejected and Glassfell threw in another cartridge. This was repeated again and again, until Lenn called out "time."

"That was well done, sir; you loaded and fired twenty-nine times in a minute; I kept time; there wasn't a hitch. You have a well-trained crew, Mr. Drake."

On the way back, Robert met Helen Blunt walking with her brother. There was no question but that Helen expected Robert to stop and speak with her. She slackened her pace a bit, bowing to Robert with a sort of mute reproach in her manner; Robert hesitated a moment, then turned and joined her, while Harry Blunt walked on ahead, neither he nor Robert giving any greeting.

"What's the matter? Don't you and Harry speak?" asked Helen, in a surprised, hurt way.

"Midshipmen never seem to have time for that sort of thing," said Robert, trying to speak lightly. "Men of different classes seldom speak unless they are particular friends. Let's go down to the sea-wall, Helen, and watch the shells; I do hope we'll win this year; we ought to, we've splendid men on the crew. What have you been doing lately? I haven't seen you for an age, and there's——"

"Well, whose fault is that?" interrupted Helen with some spirit; "you bolted out of the house the other night as though you feared contagion, and I haven't seen you or heard from you since. I should think you would have something to tell me or explain."

"Yes, yes, Helen, I have ever so many things I want to speak to you about," and then Robert dropped into silence as they walked along.

"We've been such friends," said Helen quietly, "and had so many unforeseen things happen, that it seems as though we ought to get along without any more misunderstandings in the future; and yet we seem to be having one now. You have suddenly stopped coming to see me; surely there was a reason, Robert; what was it?"

Robert felt supremely miserable and uncomfortable; he did not know what to say. There was a reason, and yet he could not tell it to this sympathetic and congenial girl whose friendship he was so anxious to keep; he could not tell this reason, nor could he pretend there was none. It would be no act of kindness to Captain Blunt to inform him of the unworthiness of his son. And so Robert did not wish Helen to know that Harry was in any way concerned with the matter Helen wished to talk about.

"What's the reason, Robert?" repeated Helen with her eyes full of interest and concern.

Just then, the far-away bell of the "Santee" was struck four times. "Six o'clock," exclaimed Robert; "we've a whole hour before supper; let's walk along the sea-wall to College Creek and back; we'll just have time to do it." Poor Robert then relapsed into silence; he was happy to be with his friend again and eager to tell her that he could not explain his peculiar conduct; but he could not talk.

His mind was in confusion, yet seemed a blank; and the trivial things about him took a prominence that in milder moods would have remained unnoticed. He noted with the eye of a naturalist a squirrel that scampered across their path, and ran along the fence, disappearing up a maple tree; two robins were scolding and fussing in the tree top near their nest. And from the coxswain of the racing shell, out in the Severn River, came regularly, like the tick-tock of a clock, the monotonous words—"Stroke—Stroke—Stroke." Thump, thump, thump went his heart. "Stroke—Stroke—Stroke," called out the ruthless coxswain to his tired crew on the river a quarter of a mile away.

Robert did not know what to say. His heart was so full he could not speak lightly. Helen looked straight ahead and said nothing, waiting no doubt for Robert to begin his explanation. Each was intensely uncomfortable. After Maryland Avenue was crossed, Helen turned to her companion and wistfully said: "I thought you had so much to talk with me about, Robert; but you haven't said a word. What is the matter; are we not good friends? Or is there some misunderstanding which prevents our talking to each other?"

"Oh, Helen," cried he, "I'm awfully disturbed about something. It is of such a peculiar nature that I can't talk about it to any one. Can't you trust me and not ask me to explain myself? You see sometimes things occur that a midshipman can't talk about—it has nothing to do with any action of yours or mine,—I think so much of your friendship that it distresses me to appear as if I had any other feeling——"

"Robert, if you really are so anxious for my friendship, what Naval Academy affair could happen that would send you running out of my house and that would prevent you coming to see me?"

Then a great light broke upon her, and stopping suddenly, she confronted Robert and said excitedly:

"Robert Drake, I understand at last. You saw Harry that night, after I left you in the pantry. It was your duty, I suppose, to report him and you didn't do so because of—of the rest of us. And you haven't called since because you are afraid you will see him again. I'm right, I know I'm right!"

Robert looked helplessly at her, and then said: "Helen, you and I have been good friends, haven't we? And can't good friends expect favors of one another? Now I've a real favor to ask of you, and it's this. Don't think of this matter, and please, oh, please, don't talk about it. Don't talk about it to your father and mother; I beg of you don't refer to the matter in any way."

"Robert, I really will do as you want me to, though I don't see why you have been so much upset. Harry isn't Frenching any more; he has promised me not to do that again. And even if he should you will not know of it or see him at my home; but I'm confident he won't, now that he has given me his word. Won't you come next Saturday and have supper with us? And bring Mr. Stonewell and Mr. Farnum with you."

Robert returned to his room in a happy mood. He had worried much at how the Blunts would look upon his abrupt action, and of his sudden avoidance of their home. He had decided not to call so as to take no chance of seeing Harry Blunt there, and he knew he could never explain the reason of his action to any of the Blunts. But now he felt that Helen, in a way at least, understood; she would require no further explanation and would not gossip about his reasons. And also he believed that Helen would so arrange it that he would run no chance of seeing Harry Blunt at her home when that young man had no right to be outside of the Academy grounds.

And so Robert felt more light-hearted than for many days, so much so that after supper, while preparing for the next day's recitation, Stonewell, who knew his roommate's every mood, looked up smiling and said:

"Well, Bob, what is it; have you won the flag ahead of time, or have you made up with Helen Blunt? I've noticed you haven't been going to her house much of late; and for some time past you've been as glum as a Russian bear."

"Never you mind, Stone, I'm just feeling pretty fit, that's all."

Ten o'clock soon came, and with it out went the lights in Bancroft Hall and a perfect stillness broken only by the tread of midshipmen making taps inspection. Soon this measured tread ceased and complete silence reigned.

And then out of this profound stillness came again that terrible cry, shrieked out in affright, startling every midshipman in the armory wing of Bancroft Hall. "Help! Help!" Far away it first seemed, and yet it was plainly heard.

With lightning speed Stonewell leaped from his bed and jumped into his clothes.

"Turn out, Bob," he cried. "I've a job to do, and won't be with you; turn out everybody in armory wing; tell Farnum to have everybody fall in by companies on the ground and first floors," and Stonewell dashed from the room.

Again the weird shriek sounded, now heard much plainer. Robert had followed Stonewell out of the room, and ran down the corridor shouting: "Turn out, everybody! Company officers, get your companies together!"

Midshipmen from all the rooms poured into the corridors.

"Help, help, save me, save me!" in agonized fearful tones were resounding throughout the building. And these cries became clearer on the lower floors. They seemed to have started from above and to have come down gradually.

"Help, help," rang out the cry, now apparently on the first floor; it seemed to come right from the midst of a throng of midshipmen falling into their places in company formation; these were entirely mystified. And then the cry descended and was heard on the floor below, the ground floor.

"Where is Stone?" asked Robert of Farnum; "do you know where he went? He said he had a job to do."

"I turned out when I heard that awful yell," replied Farnum, "and I saw Stone run down these stairs into the basement. I wonder why he went down there."

Robert and Farnum were standing before the first division of midshipmen in the middle of the corridor, just in front of the stairway that led to the basement. "Where is Mr. Stonewell?" called the officer-in-charge, Lieutenant-Commander Brooks; "look overhead in each corridor—what's that going on on the stairway?" he suddenly exclaimed, interrupting himself.

A midshipman was seen fairly running up the dark stairway, dragging by the collar of his coat another midshipman, who was vainly endeavoring to regain his balance and foothold.

The first midshipman was Stonewell. In a moment he had reached the head of the stairway, and then, with a mighty effort, he hurled his heavy burden from him.

"It's Bligh," cried out Robert.

"What does this mean, Mr. Stonewell?" demanded Lieutenant-Commander Brooks, in wondering accents. Fourth Classman Bligh presented a rueful, crestfallen figure. Stonewell had handled him with no gentle force, and at the head of the stairway had thrown Bligh violently from him; and he now lay in a heap on the floor. But evidently he was not seriously injured, for he commenced to sob convulsively.

Stonewell came up to Lieutenant-Commander Brooks and quietly said: "Sir, some time ago I thought I learned the source of the mysterious cries we heard then and which were repeated a few minutes ago. I went up into the tower and saw a boatswain's chair in the ventilating shaft which leads from the top of the building to the basement. This boatswain's chair was on a long rope which led through a pulley block overhead, and by it a man can lower himself from the top of the building to the basement in the ventilating shaft—I suppose it's there so that a person can lower himself to make any repairs that are needed in the shaft. When I heard the cry to-night I ran to the basement—to the opening of the ventilating shaft—and before long I could see somebody coming down. I didn't know who it was, but suspected it was Bligh, and it was. He gave his last yell when he was even with this floor. Then he lowered himself to the bottom and I collared him just as he got down."

Mr. Bligh was a pitiable spectacle. "It was only a joke, sir," he gasped incoherently. "I meant to do no harm, sir; it was just a little fun. Mr. Stonewell had no occasion to use me so roughly—he hurt me, sir."

"Go to my office immediately, sir," ordered Lieutenant-Commander Brooks. "I will attend to your case later. Mr. Stonewell, you have done well, as usual. Dismiss the battalion, turn everybody in, and have the usual inspection made," and the officer-in-charge left and returned to his office.

Fourth Classman Henry Bligh got up slowly. He looked from face to face; not one friendly expression did he find.

Full of pent-up feelings which he dared not express Bligh turned and left.

"Dismiss the battalion, sir," ordered Cadet Commander Stonewell to Cadet Lieutenant-Commander Farnum.

"Companies are dismissed," rang out through the corridor. "Go to your rooms immediately and turn in. Company officers make the usual taps inspection."