"I—I can't do it, sir," stammered the little fellow. "I'd do it if I could, but I can't."
"Why not, pray?" fiercely demanded Bascomb, towering above the shrinking lad and scowling blackly. "That's what I want to know—why not?"
"Because I promised mother I would not lie, and she—she has confidence in me."
"Oh, she—she has!" mocked Bascomb. "You make me sick—you do! I never took any stock in mamma boys. Now you're going to do as I want you to, or I'll make it hot for you."
"I shall not lie, sir."
"All right; wait till you get into camp. Oh, we won't do a thing to you!"
From that time Bascomb did his best to set his companions against Davis, a fact which Frank soon noted.
Knowing that Bascomb was at heart a bully, Frank immediately saw that Davis would have a hard life during his first months in the academy.
Frank's sympathy went out to the little fellow, who had been so tenderly reared that he knew very little of the harsh ways of the world outside his own home. He resolved that the little plebe should be given a fair show.
Somehow Frank divined that Bascomb intended to secure Davis for his fag, and he resolved to balk the bully in this. So it came about that, on the day that the plebes marched into camp, with their bundles under their arms, Merriwell found an opportunity to take Davis into his tent and instruct him in cleaning shoes and setting things to order.