"You never did a mean thing, and you never will. Even your class
will learn that before very long. So buck up! Hit the center
of the line and charge through! Don't think Dan and I are not
sorry for you, but we're even more interested in seeing you charge
right through all disaster in a way that fits the pride, courage
and honor that we know you to possess. I asked Dan if he had
any message to send you. Old Dan's reply was: 'Dick doesn't need
any message. If there's any fellow on earth who can jump in and
scalp Fate, it's our old Dick.' There you are, Army chum! We're
merely waiting for word that you've won out, for you're bound
to."
January came, and with it the semi-annual examinations. So high
was Dick's class standing that he had to go up for but one "writ."
That was Spanish.
"I reckon Spanish is where he falls," chuckled Durville, when
Jordan spoke to him about it. "It's easy to make mistakes enough
on Spanish verbs and declensions to throw a fellow down and out.
That'll be Prescott's line."
"Of course," nodded Jordan. Yet Dick's enemy was very far from
feeling hopeful that such would be the case.
"I never imagined the fellow could stick as long as he has," Jordan
told himself disconsolately.
One night Anstey, just before the semi-ans., took a chance. Usually
the Virginian was careful in matters of discipline. But now he
invited a dozen members of his class to his room to discuss an
"important matter.
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