"Mark."
"Oh!" cried Texas, springing up from his chair and wrenching a dilapidated shoulder. "He told me he did that—and I called him a liar!"
Texas walked up and down, and mused some more. Then it occurred to him there might be more paper under that bureau to explain things. He got down, painfully, and fished out another crumpled note. And he read that, too:
"Dear Mr. Mallory: I am in deep trouble, and I need your aid at once. You can tell how serious the trouble is by the fact that I ask you to come to me immediately. If you care to do a generous and helpful act pray do not refuse. Sincerely yours,
"Mary Adams."
Mary Adams was a girl well known to many of the cadets.
The letter was roughly scrawled on a pad, and when Texas finished reading it he flung it on the floor and went and glared at himself in the mirror.
"You idiot!" he muttered, shaking his fist at himself. "Here them ole cadets went an' fooled Mark Mallory again, an' you—bah!"
Texas was repentant through and through by that time; he grabbed up his cap savagely and made for the door, with a reckless disregard for sore joints. He hobbled downstairs and out of barracks, and caught Mark by the arm just as Mark was coming in.
"Well, Texas?" inquired Mark, smiling.