Weeks passed away and the strange fact presented itself that the cadet midshipman, who was devotedly studious, thorough in every duty devolving upon him, perfect in drill and courteous to all, yet kept his list of demerit marks steadily increasing against him, a circumstance that could only end in one way.

Pranks were played, and time and again the guilty one was said to be Mark Merrill, for he was the one who seemed to be leading two lives, as it were, secretly a wild one, openly a perfect one.

Half-smoked cigars were found by the officer of inspection in his room, and when he asserted he never smoked them, as proof against him was a box of perfectos nearly empty.

Upon another occasion the inspector found a bottle that had contained whisky in Merrill’s room, and there was enough left in it to prove that it had contained the real old beverage of the Kentucky colonels.

In many other ways had seeming proof been brought against Mark Merrill that he was not all that he professed to be, and many predicted that he would take his departure from the United States Naval Academy before very long.

But one afternoon the corps were assembled, and, to the surprise of all, the demerits against the cadets were read out openly.

Here and there a name was called which held no demerit mark against it, but when the adjutant came to the name of Mark Merrill he paused, and a moment of suspense followed.

Then came the reading of the number which was known as the “Fatal Figures.”

Beyond that number no cadet could go, and Mark Merrill’s face became deadly pale as he heard the calling out of the fatal figures. Other names followed, until the whole roll of the corps had been called, and no one else came within startling distance of the fatal figures.

“Cadet Mark Merrill to the front!” came the adjutant’s command, for that officer already had his orders.

Mark advanced promptly until halted.

White-faced but cool, with every eye upon him, he stood awaiting what was to come as though he were to hear his death warrant read.

To him it was worse, for he expected ignominious dismissal from the corps.

“Cadet Merrill, the number of demerits against your name has reached the limit, the fatal figures which mean dismissal. The commandant desires to know what you have to say in your defense?”

“Nothing, sir, for the demerits stand against me, and I submit to the laws of the academy in silence.”

Every one heard the distinctly uttered reply of the young cadet.

Then the commandant’s voice was heard:

“Adjutant, you are to cancel every demerit that stands against the name of Cadet Midshipman Mark Merrill.”

In spite of stern discipline a murmur ran down the line, for such a command could not be understood.

But the explanation was not long delayed, for again the stern voice of the commandant was heard:

“Cadet Merrill, I have reason to know that when you failed to appear at roll call, from having lost your cap, that it was taken from your room to bring about just such trouble for you. I have reason to know that ink stains were placed upon your uniform to get you into trouble, and that the night when you were reported absent from your room without leave, the one who answered the officer of the guard was not you, but used your name. The bottle found in your room, also the cigars, were put there by those who meant to get you into trouble. Against such acts, which are explained away, you stand perfect in your lessons, in drill and all duties devolving upon you. Hence I cancel these demerits with the warning to your secret enemies that, were they known, dismissal should at once follow the discovery, and if like underhand acts against you, or others, are perpetrated the guilty ones shall be hunted down and the severest penalty shall be visited upon them. Return to the ranks, Cadet Merrill, with your record clear.”

There are no more manly youths in the world, taken as a whole, than our baby tars of Annapolis and boy soldiers of West Point, and none more ready to do justice to one of their number wronged, and so it was that the cadet midshipmen felt assured that the commandant was doing only justice to Mark Merrill and letting his persecutors down lightly.

So they gave three rousing cheers for Mark’s “clear record,” and a groan for his secret foes.

If there were several in the corps who joined in the cheers and groans it was to hide their own confusion worse confounded.