There were six terrified plebes up at Camp McPherson, when Mark rushed in, pale and breathless, to tell them the reason for his summons to headquarters. The Banded Seven had not had such a shock since they organized to resist the yearlings.

"Benny Bartlett!" cried Texas, springing up in rage. "Do you mean that little rascal I licked the day he got sassy during exams?"

"That's he," said Mark, "and he's come back to get his revenge."

"And you don't mean," cried the six, almost in one breath, "Colonel Harvey believes it?"

"Why shouldn't he?" responded Mark, despairingly. "I cannot see any way out of it. The whole thing's a dirty lie from beginning to end, but it makes a straight story when it is told, and I can't disprove it."

"But I thought you said," cried Texas, "that you saw Benny himself cheating, or tryin' to, at the examinations right hyar."

"So I did," said the other. "But I cannot prove that. I know lots of things about him, but I can't prove one of them. They've simply got me and that's all there is of it. There are three of them, and it's almost impossible to make the superintendent think they're lying. Think of a rich old man like the squire's doing a trick like that!"

"Perhaps he ain't," suggested Texas, shrewdly.

"Perhaps not," admitted Mark. "Benny would not hesitate to lie to his own father. But all the same I have no proof. And what in Heaven's name am I to do?"

Mark sat down upon the locker in his tent and buried his face in his hands. His wretchedness is left to the imagination. The whole thing had come so suddenly, so unexpectedly, right in the midst of his triumph! And it was so horrible!

The six could think of no word of comfort; for they were as cast down, as thunderstruck, as he. Their regard for Mark was deep and true, and his ruin they felt was theirs. They sat or stood about the tent in characteristic attitudes, and with dejection written upon every line of their countenances.

First to move was the wild Texas, ever impulsive and excitable. And Texas leaped to his feet, with a muttered whoop!

"I'm a-goin' to prove them air fellers are lyin', by thunder, ef I have to resign to do it!"By the time that brief resolution was finished Texas was out of the tent and gone. The six glanced up as he left, and then once more resumed their dejected and bewildered discussion.

"I can see no way out of it. No way!" groaned Mark. "I am gone."

And the others could see no other way to look at it.

Texas was rather more bizarre and unconventional, more daring than his companions from the "effete East," and his detective efforts were apt to be more interesting for that reason. He paced up and down the company street, hearing and seeing no one, thinking, thinking for all he was worth.

"Proof! Proof!" he kept muttering to himself over and over again. "Proof! Proof!"

Perhaps it was ten minutes before he did anything else. Texas was like a fisherman waiting for a bite during that time. He was waiting for an inspiration. And then suddenly the inspiration came. He stopped short in his tracks, opened his eyes wide and staring, and his mouth also; his fingers began to twitch with a sudden wave of excitement; his face flushed and he trembled all over. The next moment with a joyful "durnation!" he had turned and was off like a shot down the street.

"I've got it! I've got it! Whoop!"

And then suddenly he halted again."I won't tell 'em," he muttered to himself. "I'll keep it for a surprise! But then, I'll want some one to help me. Who'll I—oh, yes!"

Texas had turned and started with no less haste the other way.

"I'll git one o' them ole cadets," he chuckled, "some one the ole man'll believe. I know!"

At the eastern side of the camp, in A Company Street, and facing the sentry post of Number Three, stood a single spacious tent. It belonged to the first cadet captain, Fischer by name. And at that tent, trembling with impatience, the plebe halted and knocked.

"Come in," called a voice, and Texas entered.

There was but one occupant in the tent—the first captain has a tent to himself, if you please. It was Fischer, tall and stately and handsome as usual, with his magnificent uniform and sash and chevrons. He was engaged in writing a letter at the moment; he looked up and then arose to his feet, a look of surprise upon his face as he recognized the plebe.

"Mr. Powers," said he.

Texas bowed; and then he started right in to business.

"Mr. Fischer," he began, "I know it ain't customary for plebes to visit first classmen, and especially B.J. plebes. But I got something to say right naow that's important, more important than ceremonies an' such. Will you listen?"

The officer bowed courteously, though he still looked surprised.

"It's about Mr. Mallory," said Texas. "I reckon you've heard the stories 'bout him?"

"I have heard rumors," said the other. "I shall be glad to hear more."

Texas told him the story then, just as Mark had told it a few minutes ago. And the look of surprise on the captain's face deepened.

"This is a serious business, Mr. Powers," he said.

"It's one lie from beginning to end!" growled the other. "Now look a-yere. You been a pretty good friend o' Mark's, Mr. Fischer. You're the only man I know of in this place that's tried to see fair play. When Mark had to fight them yearlings it was you saw he had his rights. When they tried to get him dismissed on demerits, you were the one to stop 'em. Now, I don't know why you did it, 'cept perhaps you're an honest, fair an' square man yourself, an' saw he was, too. Anyhow, you've been his friend."

"I have tried to see fair play," responded the other, slowly. "I have not approved of many of his acts, what he did last night at the hop, for instance. But still——""If you knew this yere plot was a lie, would you say so?" interrupted Texas.

"I most certainly should."

"An' if you saw a chance to prove it, knowin' that Mark'd be dismissed if you didn't, would you?"

"It would be my duty, I think, as captain of his company. I should do it anyway, for I respect Mr. Mallory."

And Texas seized the surprised Fischer by the hand and gave him a mighty squeeze.

"Wow!" he cried. "I knew you would! Whoop! We'll fool them ole liars yet!"

Then, to the still greater surprise of the cadet captain—who wasn't used to Texas' ways—the plebe dragged him over to the corner of the tent and whispered in a trembling, excited voice.

"Don't you tell a soul, naow, not a soul. S-sh! Do you want to turn highwayman?"

Fischer stared at the other in alarm.

"Turn highwayman!" he echoed.

"Yes," whispered Texas. "Don't you know what a highwayman is? He's a man what robs folks at night?"

Fischer gasped and looked dumfounded. The day that Texas had gone on his "spree" and tried to wreck West Point he had been reported by the surgeon on the sick list for "temporary mental aberration due to the heat.""This is an awfully hot day," thought Fischer. "I hope to gracious he hasn't got any guns!"

Texas waited a moment longer, and then he went on to whisper. He had lots to say, and one would have been interested to observe its effect upon the officer. His look of consternation faded; one of interest, doubt, and then finally of delight replaced it. And by the time the other was through he had forgotten the lad was a plebe. He seized his hand and slapped him upon the back.

"By George!" he cried. "I'll do it! It's a slim chance, slim as thunder, but if it'll clear Mark Mallory I'll try it if it costs me my chevrons!"

At which Texas gave vent to a whoop that awoke the echoes of the Highlands.