but he had not told what part of the large range the chart
depicted.

"If he had lived thirty seconds longer, I should have learned his
secret--should have known how to reach the lost mine by aid of the
chart. Now----"

"You may be able to reach the mine after all," said Bart,
encouragingly. "You have the ring, and you know its value. When you
leave school, you may go West and search for your mine, for it
certainly belongs to you now. You may find somebody in the Santa
Catarina region that will recognize this portion of the country
depicted here."

"Long before that the mine may be found by some one else."

"It is possible, but hardly probable. If it were so easy to find, that
man would not have made such desperate attempts to obtain possession of
the ring."

"Well, I am not going to kick. I have the ring, and his knife did not
end my life, as it would if I had not dodged. He slit open my sleeve
from the shoulder to the elbow, and brought the blood."

"Oh, you're a lucky dog," laughed Bart. "You are sure to come out on
top every time."

Wat Snell found it convenient to take a vacation, but he returned to
the academy later, although he found himself regarded with scorn by all
save a certain few of his own sort.

Had Frank seen fit, he could have had Wat expelled; but it seemed that,
if the fellow had any sense of shame, the way he was treated by the
other cadets was quite punishment enough.

Sometimes Frank and Bart would get out the drawing the latter boy had
made from the lines on the ring, and they would study over it a long
time, but they always found it baffling, and they finally gave up in
despair.

Still Frank clung to both ring and chart, hoping they would some day
prove valuable to him.

CHAPTER XXXVII.

"BABY."

A year had passed since Frank entered Fardale Military Academy--a year
crowded with events and adventures such as made its memory both
pleasant and painful.

The time of the June encampment had again arrived.

Frank was no longer a plebe, and the glistening chevrons on his sleeves
told that the first year in the academy had not been wasted. He was
now Cadet Corporal Merriwell.

The graduates had departed, and the furlough men were away at their
homes.

A new squad of plebes had been admitted to the school, and the
yearlings, mad with joy at being released from plebedom themselves,
were trying every scheme their fertile brains could devise for making
miserable the