It was with a light heart that Dave Darrin left the commandant's office, though the young man had been expecting that very decision.
Yet, despite the fact that he knew it was coming, Dave's heart thrilled with exultation and gratitude as he heard the order read out in the brigade adjutant's quick, monotonous tones.
Then, immediately following, came another order.
Midshipman Henkel, for dishonorable conduct, was dropped from the rolls!
"Fours right, march!"
By companies the brigade wheeled and marched into the mess hall—the air resounding with the quick, martial tread of eight hundred or more of the pick of young American manhood!
As the command "march" was given one man fell out of the ranks. Henkel, from the moment of the publications of the order, was no longer a midshipman!
He had fallen deservedly, as one not fit to associate with gentlemen, or to figure among the future defenders of his country of honorable men.
As the brigade marched indifferently off, and left him there, Henkel gazed, for a few moments at the solid ranks of blue and gold, and a great sob welled up within him. In this supreme moment he realized all that he had lost—his place among honest men!
Then, crushing down any feeling of weakness, he turned on his heel, a sneer darkening his face.