"I guess that's enough," thought Mark, as the other lay still and gasped. "I guess that's enough for poor Texas."
And so saying, he took out his handkerchief, wiped the blood from his face, and then opened the door and went out.
"I'm sorry I had to do it," he mused; "sorry as thunder! But he made me. And anyhow, he won't want to fight very soon again."
CHAPTER IV.
THE EXPLANATION.
Mark had barely reached the head of the stairs before the morning gun sounded, and five minutes later he was in line at roll call with the rest of his class. It is needless to say that Texas was absent.
Texas woke up a while later, and staggered to his feet, feeling carefully of his ribs to make sure they were not really broken. And then he went out and interviewed a sentry in the hall.
"Look a yere, mister," said he. "Where's this yere place they call the hospital?"
The sentry directed him to await the proper hour, and Texas spent the rest of that day, reported by the surgeon as "absent from duty—sick—contusions." And the whole class wondered why.
Mark noticed that the cadets were looking at him at breakfast; and he noticed that the members of his own class were rather distant, but he gritted his teeth and made up his mind to face it out.