GRICE APPEARS AGAIN

Robert Drake's character was singularly generous and ingenuous. He had taken the greatest of interest in his various studies and drills. At no time did he ever have desire or ambition of standing first in his class. Without being brilliant he had a good, clear mind with excellent reasoning ability, and by hard work and diligent application he had finally taken high class rank, and now he was certain to be graduated. So much had come to him this last year in the way of friendship and honors that it had proved one of heartfelt satisfaction to him, and Robert realized that he would always look back upon this year as probably the happiest period of his life.

Stonewell had left on Friday, and the next night Robert went to a hop given at the Armory. These occur many times during the year, and serve to bring desired relaxation and pleasure into the crowded, hard-working life of the midshipman.

"Helen, is your gown all ready?" asked Robert with glad triumph in his face.

"Oh, Robert," exclaimed Helen with enthusiasm, "I knew you would win the flag. I'm so happy about it, and so is father and mother. You see we are really proud of our friend who has done so well. Really, Robert, I am truly glad to be distinguished among your friends by your asking me to present the flag. I wanted you to win it for yourself, not for the brief distinction that comes to me; and actually I don't present it to you; it's already yours. I've had these thoughts all day, Robert; I can only say I'm proud to be the one to present the flag to you, just because I'm proud of my friend."

"Don't analyze too much, Helen; take the day as it comes and enjoy the honey of the hour. You see, the friendship of you and your father and mother is something I will always remember, and little as the flag presentation may be, neither you nor yours will forget it."

"Little!" exclaimed Helen, the real girl coming out, her philosophizing over; "well! I guess it won't be little. I'm to be out in front of seven hundred midshipmen, all by myself, and there will be ten thousand other people looking at me. I will have on a new gown made at the Convent at Baltimore and a new hat and a gorgeous bouquet of American beauties. I imagine you won't think it's little when it happens, Robert Drake."

Robert laughed. "That's right, Helen; that's the way to feel. By the way, do you remember that Sunday long ago, when we took our first walk? It was soon after I first met you."

"Oh, yes. And you helped me jump over a mud-puddle."

"Do you remember the invitation I gave you then to our class graduation german and ball?"

"Yes, Robert, I remember all that and you have spoken of it since. Indeed I shall be glad to go with you."

"I was just thinking how pleasant our friendship has been, Helen, and how all of these things have come to pass. I was so blue and unhappy the day I first went to your father's house—you see there weren't many people who had a friendly word for me then. Your father has always been a true friend of mine."

"Indeed he is. He is here to-night; hunt him up later; he always speaks of you when he comes to Annapolis; he will talk to you of your father; he sees him every day now. But, Robert, I can't help but be surprised that though you are so friendly to father and mother and me, you are always so hostile to Harry. Harry wants to be friendly; he said only yesterday that he liked you, but that you cut him every time you met him."

"I wish your brother every good luck, Helen, and I hope he'll be worthy of his father. Some time——"

"Robert, there's that old colored man in the doorway again, old Grice—he is surely beckoning to you—I wonder if he has 'disregarded' with his wife again about religion. Go and see what he wants and come back and tell me about it."

It was now nearing eleven o'clock. In their talk Robert and Helen had walked several times around the room, so engrossed with each other that they paid but little attention to the beautiful music and none to the happy throng of young people gliding over the floor. Robert looked with annoyance at Grice. The latter was now gesticulating frantically at him through the open doorway.

"What do you want, Grice?" he asked almost roughly.

"Come 'long, Mistah Drake," the old colored man cried; "come 'long or yo'll be too late."

"Come along where?"

"To the department of mathmax. The two midshipmen gwine ter steal the zamnation at 'leven 'clock ter-night."

"How do you know?"

"They come las' night. I was there. I heared dem talk; they had keys an' opened the doors and desk where the zamnations are kept. I heared one say the zamnations were not there; he says, 'We'll come back 'leven Saturday night; the zamnations are sure to be here Saturday night.' And they wuz right. I knowed the zamnation wusn't there den, but dey is there now. So, come 'long, hurry up."

"Have you told anybody?"

"No, suh," and a look of cunning came over the face of the old darkey. "'Deed I haven't, Mistah Drake. Ef I tole anybody he would say ole Grice lied and I would be dismissed. No, suh, I haven't tole no one. Come 'long, Mistah Drake, or the zamnation will be stole."

"You idiot," exclaimed Robert, intensely angry. He looked about hoping to see some officer he could consult, but none were near him; he had a notion of getting some midshipman to go with him, but at this instant "Home Sweet Home" was started by the band, indicating the close of the dance, and now it would be impossible to get any advice or anybody to come with him. "Fletcher," he said to the midshipmen's head waiter, who was at the lemonade stand, "find Captain Blunt; tell him I'm unexpectedly called away; ask him to tell his daughter."

"Come 'long, Mistah Drake, or the zamnation will be stole, an' ef it is I'll tell the commandant ter-morrer that I tole yo' an' yo' wouldn't come. Come 'long, suh," urged the old man, his face glowing with an eager, frightened look.

Robert groaned in extreme disgust. The matter was unutterably distasteful to him, but he felt helpless. He wished that the examination had been stolen and he had known nothing about it. But there was no help for him; he knew he had to go, so with an impatient angry exclamation he quickly went to the hat room on his right, and a moment later joined Grice. Without further talk the two then ran across the grounds and soon were in the Academic building. Here all was dark, but Grice had keys with him and led the way.

"They'll be heah soon, suh," whispered Grice; "now ef you go behind that table, an' kneel down, you'll be near the zamnation papers; I'll go over heah, an' after they get to the desk I'll turn on the 'lectric light."

Robert took the old man's suggestion and crouched down by a long table. The moonlight streaming through the window threw weird, ghostlike shadows over the floor and gave Robert a creepy sensation. He felt intensely annoyed and irritated to be there, but realized it was a duty he could not avoid. At the other end of the room was old Grice; outside was heard the rumble of carriages coming from the Armory; the bell in the yard struck six, and was followed like an echo by the bells from the ships and tugs at anchor in the harbor. A marine sentinel not far away called out in tones long drawn out the words, "Post number three—and all's well."

And then came a slight noise. Some one was surely fumbling at the door. In the stillness Robert could hear his heart beat. It seemed as though seconds were prolonged into hours. Soon Robert was conscious that the door leading out into the hall was being slowly opened and softly closed. And then in the dim moonlight, he saw two dark figures like phantoms, making no sound, approach the desk where he knew the examination questions of the coming week were kept. With painful intensity of mind, and with a suffocating feeling, he saw them pause before the desk and heard a faint jingle, as of keys on a ring.

Then the room was suddenly flooded with light.

Robert never afterward liked to think, far less to speak, of the feelings he experienced in the next few seconds. They brought him more agony, more desolate grief, than he had ever felt before, or, it is hoped, will ever come again to him.

With startled, frightened glances the two jumped up. One was in civilian garb, a brown slouch hat was down over his forehead, a heavy dark moustache and beard covered his face; he wore a tightly buttoned up coat. The other was in midshipman uniform, and five golden stripes adorned each sleeve.

"Oh!" gasped Robert, in anguish; "oh, Stonewell." Robert himself, unseen under the table, was almost overcome with grief and dismay. The bearded man jumped as if he had been shot, and then his companion exclaimed in a low voice: "Run, Harry, we're caught."

As he said this both bolted from the room, and the last Robert saw of them was the electric light flashing on the golden stripes, which for a year had been Robert's joy, and the pride of every midshipman, but were now so dishonored and disgraced.

The shock was too unexpected, too sudden for Robert. So his beloved friend, his idol of manhood and honor, the ideal all-around midshipman of his time, had proved to be but a low, contemptible dastard—

Robert's head sank on his knees and unrestrained convulsive sobs burst from his lips. He was suddenly robbed of that which was dearest to him; and blank hopeless desolation took possession of him.