Midshipman Bligh, though also in the same precarious position, seemed to lose some of the gloom he had been carrying about him and become more normal. He went into the city of Annapolis at every opportunity and always came back with a grateful heart; for Bligh had found a friend who believed in him, and this friend had rescued Bligh from the pit of despondency and terrible sadness into which he had descended.
"Say, Bob," remarked Stonewell one day, "have you noticed that fellow Bligh of late?"
"I never happen to think of him. What about him?"
"Nothing much, except that I am constantly meeting him. He never seems to look at me, but whenever I go out in town nowadays he's pretty sure to be standing at the Maryland Avenue gate; and then later, half the time I go out I meet him somewhere. This has happened so often of late that I can't help but feel he's interested in where I go."
"Lots of people are interested in where you go, Stone; every day somebody asks me why you go out so much alone. For years we have gone out together, but now you never want me."
"It's not that," replied Stonewell hurriedly,—"I've had some personal matters come up that require my attention. Look here, that Bligh is going to bilge, isn't he?"
"He is practically certain to. He is low in every study—he'll have to make bigger marks in each of them than he ever yet has made to get satisfactory in the final average. But he may do it; people have pulled out of worse holes than he is in."
"What are you reading, Bob? You seem to be giving that newspaper a good deal of your attention to-day."
"I'm reading about the boy who was kidnapped in Baltimore several days ago. First it was thought the boy was lost, but now the police believe he was kidnapped; it says here that Mr. Thompson has received word his boy will be restored to him on payment of ten thousand dollars. By George! I hope they catch the kidnappers and send them to prison for life. That's an awful crime!"