"I'm a printer's boy," he said, "and I works for the Roberts in Denver. I was a-walking along the street one day, I was and up comes this feller—indicating Mark—and he says, says he to me, 'Your people are printing the examination papers for Congressman Wheeler, ain't they?' 'Yes,' says I, and then after that a little while he says that he wants to win them examinations, 'cause there was a feller trying 'em that he wanted to beat. So he gimme a hundred—that was the next day; he said he'd earned it in a railroad smash up, or something—and then I got them papers and gave 'em to him. And that's all I know."
"Very good," commented the squire, tapping his cane with approval. "Very good! And what did he say about these West Point examinations?"
"He said, says he, 'If I win these here and git the appointment, I ain't a-going to do nothin' but skin through the others with cribs.'"
"That's right!" cried the squire, triumphantly. "There now! What more do you want?"
He glanced at the superintendent inquiringly, and the superintendent gazed at Mark. As for Mark, he was simply too dumfounded to move. He stood as if glued to the spot and stared in blank consternation from one to the other.
"Well," said the colonel at last, "what have you to say for yourself?"
Mark was too amazed to say much.
"So that is their plan!" he gasped. "So they seek to rob me of my cadetship by this—this——"
He stopped then, unable to express his feelings.
"Colonel Harvey," he inquired at last, "may I ask if you believe this story?"