"BLIGH, BLIGH, BLIGH!"

That Sunday afternoon the Naval Academy was in an uproar, for the complete history of Harry Blunt's disguise had become known to all midshipmen, and every one of them was fascinated and intensely amused at his daring.

It was not the commandant's intention that the facts should become generally known. But Harry Blunt never yet had been very amenable to orders. First he told two or three intimates under strict injunctions of secrecy, and each of these told three or four of their close friends in confidence; and in this strictly confidential way the history of Harry Blunt's disguise became known before dinner was over to every midshipman of the brigade.

Now the stern officers who inculcate discipline and a few other things on the minds and character of midshipmen know that these young gentlemen should have been pained and grieved to learn that one of their number had left a disguise in the office of the dreaded officer-in-charge of the first division of midshipmen; in that office where demerits were assigned and daily preachments were solemnly made to erring midshipmen. And we know they should have been dismayed that yet another one had proposed three groans for the highest authorities at the Naval Academy. But to be candid one is compelled to admit that the midshipmen's sentiments on these matters were far otherwise.

Indeed, the fact is Bligh's audacity thrilled and fascinated every midshipman of the brigade. It came as a violent shock; and after the thrill came amazement, and then uproarious laughter.

That a midshipman should have kept civilian clothes for months right under the nose of an austere lieutenant-commander touched the brigade's "funny bone."

It was felt that Harry Blunt had a good joke on that lieutenant-commander. Toward Bligh there suddenly developed great admiration. His proposing groans for the superintendent and the commandant was the most audacious thing that had happened in the memory of any midshipman then at Annapolis. And his frank assumption of the guilt of the acts charged against Third Classman Blunt, a man with whom he had been on the worst of terms, suddenly awoke all midshipmen to a belief that the despised Bligh had not merited the obloquy so universally cast upon him.

"Poor beggar," remarked Glassfell to Farnum, "he was only a plebe, and hadn't yet been educated up to the niceties of honor. He was only trying to save himself from bilging; and he hasn't been treated decently here, that's a fact. But what unparalleled nerve! Goodness! The idea of his standing up and shouting out those groans! Well, I think a good many of us have groaned more than once at the superintendent and commandant!" and Glassfell chuckled.

When Harry Blunt left the commandant's office that Sunday morning he went straight to Bligh's room.

"Bligh," he cried, "you are white, and by jingo! everybody in this Academy is going to know it before night. I've treated you badly, Bligh, right from the start; and when I think of what you did this morning—well, I'm ashamed of myself, that's how I feel. Look here, Bligh, would you shake hands?"

"Do you mean that, Blunt?" exclaimed Bligh, joyfully, his face aglow with happiness.

"Mean it? I'm proud to be your friend if you will only let me!" and these two young men who had so long cherished bitter feelings against each other jumped into a warm, generous friendship.

With the tale of Bligh's audacity went everywhere the story of how he had saved Blunt. And midshipmen were touched deeply in suddenly realizing the sad, lonely, ostracized life Bligh had led; of the generosity of conduct by one so universally despised. And thus there was a reaction by leaps and bounds of generous feeling toward that once unhappiest of young men.

Bligh's character was hardly changed in these few days; the strongest thing in it was still a desire for applause, and he fairly drank in the kindly words that were now profusely showered upon him. The direct effect was to make him tremendously happy; Bligh really had never been hopelessly vicious, unwarrantable as had been some of his acts. And no midshipman had ever lived a sadder life at the Naval Academy. And the sudden change from ostracism to popularity overwhelmed him with happiness and filled him with ambition to merit the kindly feelings that went with him in his final days at Annapolis.

On the following Wednesday Bligh received an official letter from the Secretary of the Navy with the curt information that his resignation as midshipman had been accepted, and so the fear of disgraceful dismissal vanished. He was to reËnter civil life without the stigma of expulsion from the naval service. He was all packed up and left on the afternoon train.

Beside him in the car sat Frank Stonewell.

"Stonewell," remarked Bligh, "you will never know the good you've done me; you came to me with your friendship when I had no friend and when I needed one badly. I was going to the dogs and hated everybody; you helped to restore my self-respect and gave me a hope I might be of some account after all. I'm going to try to live right from now on, to make a point of deserving friends."

"You're all right, Harry," replied Frank Stonewell; "you just needed to get a good grip on yourself; you had the academic regulations and standards on the brain when I first met you; you were actually morbid about them. Perhaps I pushed my defiance of them a little too far when I played the last trick, but I love to dare. However, it's all a phase of life. But, I say, Bligh, look out there! What are all those midshipmen running into the station for?"

"Oh, that's Blunt and a lot of third and fourth classmen. I guess they had a late dress parade and are trying to get to this train to bid somebody good-bye. Probably some girl is aboard whom they all like."

"All aboard!" shouted the conductor.

Then came a sharp cry in staccato words, from the well-known voice of Harry Blunt. "Four N yell, fellows," he cried, just before the train started.

And then from over a hundred throats came a well-known Naval Academy shout, as follows:

"N N N N
A A A A
V V V V
Y Y Y Y
Navy—
Bligh, Bligh, Bligh."

It was in this way, and with this shout tingling in his ears, that Bligh left Annapolis. His eyes glistened. A mist swam before them. A moment later he turned to his companion and said: "Frank, I've heard that same call before—but I'd given up all hope of ever hearing it again—I can't tell you what it means to me—but it seems as if those good chaps have forgotten scores of mean things and have remembered the one decent thing I did at Annapolis."

Three years later a recent Princeton graduate was speaking at Annapolis with Cadet Lieutenant Sexton.

"Tell me about Bligh," inquired Sexton. "I've heard you chaps at Princeton liked him there. He was here for a while, in fact was my roommate—he had a hard time at first, but everybody here liked him when he left."

"Liked him!" exclaimed the Princeton man. "I guess we did; we more than liked him. Harry Bligh was one of the squarest fellows that ever lived, and one of the kindest and best besides. We were proud of his football record, of course—he was probably the best half-back in the country last season. But he was lots more than that. He was a helpful friend to all of us. I remember he once pulled me out of a deep hole; and I wasn't the only one. Just let a fellow get into trouble and before long you'd find Bligh helping him out. Bligh could never be turned against any one. I remember one of our fellows did something off color; he offended our class feeling; well, we were going to do something—I don't know what—but Bligh sort of took charge of affairs and said: 'Let's not condemn that fellow; we may only succeed in shoving him deeper into the pit he is in; let's see if we can't find some good in him, or point him right, anyway.' Well, we did, and we were mighty glad of it afterward. He was always helping a fellow that needed a friend. I once said to him, 'Harry, what is your ambition?' He seemed to think quite a while and then said: 'I want to be square, and I want people to believe I am square.' And you just bet, Sexton, that a bullier, squarer chap than Harry Bligh never lived."