"I guess perhaps it isn't quite as bad as either," smiled Greg wanly.
"However, I couldn't help doing it."
He rose to his feet, a bit unsteadily, leaning one hand on his study desk.
Greg's hair was a bit awry, as though he had run his hands many times through it in some mood of desperation. This, in itself, was in defiance of West Point traditions for the personal neatness of the cadet.
"You still have me altogether in the dark, Greg," murmured Dick wonderingly.
"You'll lose all respect for me, Dick," went on Greg miserably.
"Then it must be something awfully bad that you've done," retorted
Dick, opening his eyes wider than ever.
Without another word Greg reached to his desk, picked up a sheet of paper and in silence passed it over to his comrade.
Dick read with a gathering of his eyebrows. Then gradually a look of anger shot into his clear eyes.
"Greg Holmes," uttered the other cadet indignantly, "you're a disgrace to your native town of Gridley!"
"Well, what are you going to do about it!" demanded Greg almost defiantly.