And I told you, on a former
occasion, what I thought about back-biters."

"Be careful, Furlong!" warned Dennison angrily.

"At your service, sir, any time," coolly replied Furlong, though
he was a head shorter than Dennison, who was one of the big athletes
of the yearling class.

"But the class ought to know some truths," retorted Dodge harshly.

"Here comes some of the class now," replied Furlong, as seven
yearlings, on their way back from the library, turned in at the
sally-port. "Tell them for a start, Dodge, and I'll listen.
Hold on there, fellows. Oh, you there, Prescott? That's lucky.
Dodge has some 'facts' he thinks the class ought to know, and
I want you to hear them. Now, Dodge, turn around and repeat what
you were just saying."

There was no help for it. Dodge had to speak up, or be considered
a cur that bit only in the dark.

So, with a show of defiance, Dodge spoke hotly giving a very fair
repetition of what he had lately said. Prescott stood by, his
fists clenched, his face white, but without interrupting or making
any move.

"Now, state what you said, Mr. Dennison," requested Furlong coldly.

Thus cornered, Dennison, too, had to state truthfully what he had
just been saying.

There was a pause.

Some of the yearlings looked straight ahead. Others glanced curiously
at the principals in this little drama of cadet life. None of
them took Furlong to be anything more than the stage manager.

"Have you said all you have to say, Mr. Dodge?" demanded Cadet
Prescott.

"Yes," flared Bert.

"Have you anything that you wish to add, Mr. Dennison?" demanded
Dick, wheeling upon his other foe in the corps.

"Nothing more, at present," replied Dennison coolly. He realized
how much bigger and more powerful he was than Dick Prescott.

"Then, as for you, Mr. Dodge," continued Prescott, fixing his
old-time enemy with a cold eye, "you're a liar and a coward!"

Dodge doubled his fists, springing forward, but two of the yearlings
caught him and dragged him back, for old ramrod's back was already
turned. Dick was eyeing his other detractor.

"You, Mr. Dennison," continued Prescott, "are a dirty scandal-monger,
a back-biter and a source of danger to the honor of the cadet corps!"

CHAPTER XVIII

THE FIGHT IN BARRACKS

"Let go of me!" roared Dennison, as two men held him. "Let me
at that-----"

"Any name that you would see fit to call me, Dennison, wouldn't
sting," retorted Dick. "Yo