“That is what I mean to do,” said Mark. “I mean to let them call it, and look them in the eye and laugh. And we’ll see what comes of it. I won’t fight Fischer, and they can’t make me. The more they taunt me, the better I’ll like it. When they get through perhaps I’ll get a chance to show them how much of a coward I am.”
With which resolution Mark turned away and prepared for bed.
CHAPTER XXVII.
MARK, THE COWARD.
The taunting of which Mark spoke with such grim and quiet determination was soon to begin; in fact, he was not destined to lie down for that night of rest without a taste of it. He had barely removed the weight of his uniform jacket, with its collar fastened inside, before he heard a sound of voices near his tent.
He recognized them instantly; it was the “committee,” and a moment later, in response to his invitation, the three first classmen entered, bowing most courteously as usual.
“Mr. Mallory,” said the spokesman, “I have come, if you will pardon my disturbing you, to deliver to you the decision of our class.”
“Yes,” said Mark, simply. “Well?”
It was evident that Fischer had not seen them, and that they suspected nothing. A storm was brewing. Mark gritted his teeth.
“It might just as well come now as any time,” he thought. “Steady!”