Then they marched him down to supper. Formerly the plebes had marched dejectedly in the rear and sat over in an obscure corner of the room. That had its advantages, however, for he did not have to pour the water and wait till everybody else was helped, and he was not subject quite so much to the merry badinage of the merciless yearling. On the whole he was rather glad when supper was over and after marching back to camp was dismissed for that day at last.
Mark and his chum, who as we have seen were now interested in nothing quite so much as sleep, or lack of it, made for their tents immediately to go to bed. But once more the fates were against them, for scarcely had they entered the door before another cadet rushed in. It was the excited first captain, and he was in such a hurry that he had not even stopped to remove his sword and sash, the remnants of “parade.” He bore the news that the committee had imparted to him; and its effect upon Mallory may be imagined.
“Fight you,” he gasped. “For Heaven’s sake, man, you’re wild.”
“I’m as serious as I ever was in my life,” replied the other. “The committee from the class told me just before parade.”
“What on earth made them select you?”
“I don’t know,” groaned Fischer. “I had a couple of fights here—I whipped Wright, the man you knocked out the time when the class attacked you so disgracefully. And they seem to think I’d stand the most chance, at least that’s what the committee said.”
“And what did you tell them?” inquired Mark, in alarm.
“Tell them? I haven’t told them anything yet. I was too horrified to say a word. I’ve come over to see you about it. I’m in a terrible fix.”
“Well, refuse, that’s all.”
“I can’t!”