“Yes, sir; you just watch me and see how well I play it.”
Ralph and Bollup still sat on the iron bench in the state capitol grounds lazily talking over the three years that had passed. Both were about to become first classmen, the great goal of all midshipmen, and they were correspondingly elated.
“Os, you’ve never told me why you Frenched that night two months ago. Why did you do it old man? You had four stripes cinched up to then, but I’m afraid that spot has killed your chances for anything. Something happened to me that day which would have killed my chances had it become known, but I was luckier than you were. Why did you French, Os?”
Before Ralph had a chance to reply, they were rudely interrupted by an utter stranger, a young man of slender build, about eighteen or nineteen years old, suddenly sitting down on the bench between the two, crowding Ralph over to one side. “You don’t own all of this bench, do you?” he asked Ralph in insolent tones.
Ralph jumped up, angry clear through.
“What do you mean,” he cried, “and who are you?”
“I’m a candidate, old boy,” replied the youth, “and you’re a midshipman. You’ll be standing me on my head in a couple of weeks but you can’t do it now.” With that he deliberately put out his hand and pinched Ralph’s leg so hard that it really hurt him.
Ralph now lost his temper completely and drew back his fist to strike the insolent candidate, but it went against his grain to strike a man sitting down; and instead he passionately cried: “Get on your head, you bag of cheek; I’ll teach you a thing or two before you’re much older.”
The candidate was on his head in a flash and stayed there till Ralph ordered him to his feet. In the meantime Bollup had watched this episode with much surprise; as the candidate regained his feet Bollup sprang to his and seizing Ralph’s arm said: “Come along,” and Ralph went with him. He was still very indignant.
“I wish I had punched his face,” he grumbled to Bollup; “he needed it.”