The chief event that concerned the Naval Academy at this time was its defeat in football by West Point; if one were to judge the importance of this defeat by the effect produced at Annapolis he would say it was a national calamity. All at Annapolis, officers, midshipmen and even citizens in the old town, were filled with consternation and dismay. During the game, on the bleachers, Ralph saw his eleven heroes, despite incredible effort, relentlessly pushed back, overwhelmed and crushed by the unconquerable West Point team. From the beginning, defeat for the midshipmen was seen to be inevitable, and for two hours many hearts throbbed in painful anguish. The return from Philadelphia was a bitter one for the midshipmen, for West Point had been victorious the previous year; but grim determination was in the heart of every midshipman, and “we’ll beat them next year” was the dogged resolve everywhere heard.

Ralph was now one of the marked men of his class. He maintained his lead in mathematics and was improving in his French and English studies. He took naturally to the study of the laws of chemistry, and of sound, light and heat, and though he had never studied these subjects before, he immediately took high rank in them, standing number five in his class for the first term.

Ralph took formation, drills and studies easily; inspections no longer worried him. Sometimes he was late at a formation and occasionally his room was reported for “out of order at morning inspection” and like all midshipmen he sometimes received demerits, but never enough in any one month to put him off the first conduct grade.

Three officers took turns in doing duty as officer-in-charge, spending twenty-four hours with the midshipmen. During his tour the officer-in-charge was kept busy carrying out the routine, making inspections, answering questions by midshipmen, and receiving reports. One of these officers, Lieutenant Fellows, afforded the midshipmen great fun by a peculiarity he had of frequently calling things by their wrong names, and mixing up the syllables of a word. It was probably a slight form of aphasia. One time during March, in evening study hours while Ralph and Creelton were having an animated conversation in their room, a sudden rap was heard on their door and in strode Lieutenant Fellows, his sword and white gloves proclaiming he was making an evening inspection.

Ralph and Creelton jumped to their feet, and stood at respectful attention.

“Have this stopping talked,” he ordered. “Who’s doing this stopping?”

Ralph wanted to laugh, but managed to say, “I was conversing with my roommate, sir.”

“You are reported for loud stopping during study hours, sir; what is your name?”

“Osborn, sir.”

This was told with great glee to third classmen and thereafter Mr. Fellows was dubbed “Loud Stopping,” though he probably never knew it. Another time in telling some apparently deeply interested midshipmen of a wonderful escape he had from drowning, he said, “And then I sankly gent into the water——” and he was surprised and perplexed at the spontaneous burst of laughter that greeted his remark. On another occasion he used the expression, “a paint of coat,” meaning to say of course “a coat of paint.” He was a kind-hearted man, pompous in manner and ordinarily altogether too lenient with the midshipmen. Many times after he had made some report against one, the delinquent would talk earnestly to “Loud Stopping” about it, and the latter would erase the report. Then at other times, Mr. Fellows would feel he had been altogether too easy with the young gentlemen and he would become most unexpectedly, tremendously severe. The midshipmen liked him but they constantly laughed at him.

The third class year was passing uneventfully for Ralph. It was very satisfactory to him because he was so successful in his studies. There was now additional zest in his work because he was aiming to, and stood good chance of standing first in his class. His most formidable competitors were his most intimate friends, Himski, Bollup and Creelton, so the rivalry was a very friendly one. Of all his classmates Ralph liked the jovial, great-hearted Himski most. He always kept on good terms with Creelton but was more drawn to the others.

As time went on Ralph thought less and less of his hidden enemy. Several times during the months that passed some third classman reported the theft of money, or of some valuable article. On each occasion Ralph always insisted on having his room searched, “for my own protection,” he explained to Bollup and Himski when they remonstrated with him, but nothing was ever found. It is likely that consciousness of a secret enemy made Ralph particularly careful about obeying the regulations. He had the feeling he was watched and that any grave misdemeanor would become known to the authorities.

One Saturday in April while walking alone through the grounds he passed a tall, pimply-faced, round-shouldered man about twenty-seven years old, dressed in civilian’s clothes. Ralph paid no particular attention to him until the man suddenly stopped, and in a rasping, snarling voice said: “Why don’t you salute me?”

“I didn’t know you were entitled to a salute sir,” Ralph said. “I never saw you before and will be glad to salute you if you are entitled to a salute,” and Ralph saluted as he spoke.

“I am entitled to a salute, and it’s your business to know me. I’m Professor Moehler, instructor in mathematics. You midshipmen make a point of never knowing civilian instructors; I’ve looked that point up; you’re required to salute me and you’d better not pretend another time not to know me.”

“I haven’t pretended, sir; I didn’t know you. I had no reason to think you were an instructor.”

“I hear what you say but I have my own ideas on that subject. Salute me again.”

Ralph’s face got red; he hesitated, and then slowly executed a proper naval salute, watching the professor narrowly.

The latter turned to resume his walk, saying, “You’d better not pretend another time, Mister Midshipman, unless you want to get reported for disrespect. That would give you twenty-five demerits.”

“One moment, sir,” said Ralph, a determined look shooting out of his eyes. “You are correct in saying the regulations require a midshipman to salute an instructor; and the same regulation is just as mandatory in requiring the instructor to return the salute. I have saluted you twice and you returned neither salute. Further, I consider you hazed me when you directed me to salute you the second time, and you have insinuated I was not speaking the truth when I told you I was not pretending, that I didn’t know you. I shall report you to the commandant, sir; he is here to protect midshipmen as well as to direct them and punish them.”

“Oh, I say, don’t do that; I didn’t mean anything,” cried Professor Moehler with a troubled face; “here, I’ll salute three times——” and he made three grotesque gyrations with his hand, which he helplessly intended for military salutes. “Look here, mister, don’t report me; I’ll lose my job if you do!”

Mr. Moehler ran after Ralph crestfallen and begging not to be reported, but Ralph was very angry and refused to listen to him. He went direct to his room and made a written report of the incident which resulted in a severe reprimand and warning for the instructor. Mr. Moehler had been at the Academy but a few days when this happened. He had been told that midshipmen looked down upon civilian instructors and objected to saluting them, which was entirely a mistake, and he had announced that he would force them to salute him.

This incident created much talk in the little midshipmen world. After this Mr. Moehler received the most elaborate salutes from midshipmen. He even noticed that the superintendent and commandant apparently didn’t receive as deferential salutes from midshipmen as he did. This bothered him somewhat, but he concluded that naval customs were queer and kept his opinion to himself.

When the sections in mathematics were posted for May, Ralph led his class; this pleased him but he had expected it. While looking at the room number where his section was assigned to recite, he suddenly slapped his hands together and exclaimed: “By George, that’s too bad; I’ve got Moehler as my instructor next month.”

“I wish I had,” replied Creelton ruefully. “I’ve tumbled down to the second section. This is the first time I’ve been out of the first section in math since the plebe semi-an exam.”

“I’m sorry for that, old fellow,” said Ralph. “You haven’t boned much this last month; you’ll get back without any trouble if you try.”

In May Ralph’s class in mathematics had integral calculus. As he believed Mr. Moehler would look at him with no friendly eye he was doubly careful in the preparation of his lessons. As number one man in his class it was to be expected his mark would be excellent, but Moehler gave him high marks grudgingly. For the fourth recitation Ralph had to Mr. Moehler, he was directed to deduce a formula which was in the day’s lesson. Ralph, always delighting in original work, arrived at the formula by a different method than that laid down in the book. Mr. Moehler, busy listening to demonstrations of other midshipmen in the section, did not get to Ralph till near the end of the hour. Then he glanced at the blackboard where Ralph stood, and said, “That’s all wrong, Mr. Osborn.”

“This is right, sir,” replied Ralph. “It will only take me a minute to explain it, if you’ll listen——”

“It’s all wrong; I can see that at a glance—you’ve cooked up the result somehow, but it’s wrong. Rub it out.”

“Sir, this work is right; it isn’t the method used in the book, but I can prove to you it’s right. Now——”

“Rub it out, I tell you,” thundered Mr. Moehler.

“Will you let me explain it, sir?”

“No, rub it out.”

“May I send for the head of the department to explain it to him?”

“No, you may not; I’m running this. Rub that out. You’ve earned a zero for this morning’s work.”

Moehler was pale with anger and his voice trembled. Ralph hesitated a moment, then slowly rubbed his work out, and without another word left the blackboard and took his seat. The section was soon marched out of the recitation room, and when Ralph reached his own room he hurriedly wrote the following letter, addressing it to the commandant:

Professor Scott was full of delight at Ralph’s original demonstration and of anger toward Mr. Moehler. “You will mark this paper, sir,” he said to the latter, his own voice trembling with indignation, “and you will change Mr. Osborn’s mark to correspond. And let me tell you, sir, if any further reports of this kind come I shall recommend your discharge. This is as fine a piece of original work as I’ve ever seen. It deserves a 4 and you marked it 0. Mr. Osborn is number one in his class; if you have occasion to mark him less than 4.0 in his future recitations you will inform me immediately.”

Mr. Moehler was chagrined to the last degree and correspondingly apologetic, but Professor Scott’s anger was not to be soothed. He required the instructor to inform Ralph that his mark was changed to 4.0.

Four days later at the end of an hour’s recitation, Ralph, with the rest of his section, at Mr. Moehler’s order, marched from the room. As is customary Mr. Moehler followed them out, saw them form and march away. He then went back in the section room.

“Shall I rub out, suh?” inquired the colored man.

“Wait a minute; I’ll just see if I’ve everything marked. What’s that?” he suddenly exclaimed in great amazement, and an expression of hot anger crossed his face. “Don’t rub out a thing, do you understand? Leave everything just as it is.”

“Yes, suh.”

Mr. Moehler then went to the corridor and calling for an attendant, sent him to Professor Scott with a request for the latter to come to the recitation room immediately.

“What’s the matter, Mr. Moehler?” demanded Professor Scott, a moment later; “you look excited.”

“Sir, I dismissed the first section but a couple of moments ago and went into the corridor with them according to your order. I’d like to call your attention to what I found on Mr. Osborn’s blackboard.”

Professor Scott quickly glanced at the blackboard indicated, and overwhelming astonishment was depicted on his face. “Incredible!” he exclaimed.

At the upper left-hand corner of the blackboard was the name “Osborn.” Below it was the demonstration of a problem and below this, in bold handwriting, was written the sentence:

“Professor Moehler is a liar and a fool.”