It was Douglass, president of the first class.
"Mr.Douglass!" whispered Dick, stopping squarely before his successor in class honors.
Douglass, without looking at his appealing fellow classman, or opening his lips to answer, stepped around Prescott.
But Dick caught his unwilling comrade firmly by the arm.
"Douglass," he whispered, "in the name of justice, listen to me just an instant---a swift instant, too! I think the chance has come to clear me of the load of dislike and contempt with which I am regarded here.

This appeal is between man and man! Jordan is around the corner, telling a stranger how he trapped me and got me into disgrace with the class.

As a matter of cadet justice and honor, I beg you to go softly to the corner and hear what is being said.

Do not let Jordan suspect that you are near.
What he is saying will clear me.

Go, and go softly, I beg you, as a matter of justice from one man to another!" All the time that Dick had held his arm Douglass had stood there, not seeking to snatch himself free.
Nor did he utter a word.