But "Durry" helped turn the fellow over, face down, and then all
three sat on their catch.
"Doug," however, felt something hard. Leaping up, he made a quick
search, then drew from Jordan's hip pocket a length of lead pipe
wrapped in red flannel.
"Ye gods of war," gasped Douglass, "what sort of weapon is this
for a former gentleman to carry?"
"Let me up," pleaded Jordan, "and I'll make a quick hike!"
"Don't you let him up, fellows," warned Douglass. "Now, whom
did Jordan seek with an implement like this? There could be but
one of our men---Prescott."
"Have you anything to say, Jordan?" demanded Atterbury.
"Not a blessed word," growled Jordan, no longer attempting to
disguise his voice.
"Then we have," returned "Doug."
"But you two fellows hold him until I come back."
Douglass ran over to the cliff, then, with a mighty throw, hurled
the bar of lead out into the Hudson, far below. Then he darted
back.
"Now, fellows," muttered Douglass in a low voice, "I'd like mighty
well to turn this scoundrel over. But we don't want to put such
a foul besmirchment on the class name, if we can avoid it, the
night before graduation. Jordan, if we let you go, will you hike,
and never stop hiking until you're miles and miles away from West
Point?"
"Yes; on my honor," protested the other eagerly.
"On your---bosh!" retorted "Doug" impatiently.
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