Time has a way of passing very hurriedly when there is anything going to happen, especially if it be something disagreeable. The hands of the clock had been at half-past eleven when Mark left. It took them almost no time to hurry on to midnight, and not much longer to get to two. And from two it went on to three, and then to half-past. The blackness of the night began to wane, and the sky outside the window to lighten with the first gray streaks of dawn. Not long after this time up in one of the rooms on the second floor of barracks, Division 8, the occupant of one of the rooms began to grow restless. For the occupant had promised himself and others to awaken them. And awaken he did suddenly, and turned over, rubbed his eyes, and sat up.  
"Mark! Oh, Mark!" he called, softly. "Git up, thar! It's time to be hustlin'!"
 
There was no answer, and Texas got up, yawning, and went to the other bed.
 
[Pg 27]"Git up thar, you prize fighter you!"
 
And as he spoke he aimed a blow at the bed, and the next moment he started back in amazement, for his hand had touched nothing but a mattress, and Texas knew that the bed was empty.
 
"Wow!" he muttered. "He's gone without me!"
 
And with this thought in his mind he rushed to his watch to see if he were too late.
 
No, it was just ten minutes to four, and Texas started hastily to dress, wondering at the same time what on earth could have led Mark to go so early and without his friend.
 
"That was the goldurndest queer trick I ever did hear of in my life, by jingo!"
 
It took him but a few short moments to fling his clothes on; and then he stepped quickly across the hall and entered a room on the other side.
 
"I wonder if that Parson's gone with him," he muttered.
 
The "Parson" had not, for Texas found him engaged in encasing his long, bony legs in a pair of trousers that would have held a dozen such.
 
"Are you accoutered for the combat?" he whispered, in[Pg 28] a sepulchral tone, sleepily brushing his long black hair from his eyes. "Where is Mark?"
 
"The fool's gone up there without us!" replied the Texan, angrily.
 
"Without us!" echoed Stanard, sliding into his pale sea-green socks.
 
"Bless my soul!" echoed a voice from the bed—Indian was too sleepy to get up. "Bless my soul, what an extraordinary proceeding!"
 
"Come on," said Texas. "Hurry up."
 
The "Parson" snatched up his coat and made for the door.
 
"I think," said he, halting at the door in hesitation. "I think I'll leave my book behind. I'll hardly need it, do you think?"
 
"Come on!" growled Texas, impatiently. "Hurry up!"
 
Texas was beginning to get angry, as he thought, over Mark's "fool trick."
 
The two dodged the sentry without much trouble; it is probable that the sentry didn't want to see them, even if he did. They ran hastily out through the sally port and across the parade ground, Texas, in his impatience, dragging his long-legged companion in tow. They made[Pg 29] a long detour and approached Fort Clinton from behind the hotel, in order to avoid the camp. Hearing voices from inside the embankment, Texas sprang hastily forward, scrambled up the bank, and peered down into the inclosure.
 
"Here they are," called one of the cadets, and then, as he glanced at the two, he added: "But where's Mallory?"
 
And Texas gazed about him in blank amazement.
 
"Where is he?" he echoed. "Where is he? Why, ain't he yere?"
 
It was the cadets' turn to look surprised.
 
"Here?" echoed Corporal Jasper. "Here! Why, we haven't seen him."
 
"Hain't seen him!" roared Texas, wild with vexation. "What in thunder!"
 
"Wasn't he in your room?" inquired somebody.
 
"No. He was gone! I thought, of course, he'd come out yere."
 
And Texas fell to pacing up and down inside the fort, chewing at his finger nails and muttering angrily to himself, while the yearlings gathered into a group and speculated what the strange turn in the affair could mean.
 
[Pg 30]"It's ten to one he's flunked," put in Bull Harris, grinning joyfully.
 
Some such idea was lurking in Texas' mind, too, but it made him mad that any of his enemies should say it.
 
"If he has," he bellowed, wheeling about angrily and facing the cadet. "If he has it's because you've tricked him again, you ole white-legged scoundrel you!"
 
Texas doubled up his fists and looked ready to fight right then; Bull Harris opened his mouth to answer, but Jasper interposed:
 
"That's enough," said he. "We can settle this some other time. The question is now about Mallory. You say, Mr. Powers, you've not the least idea where he is?"
 
"If I had," responded Texas, "if I had, d'you think I'd be hyar?"
 
Jasper glanced at his watch. "It's five minutes after now," said he, "and I——"
 
He got no farther, for Texas started forward on a run.
 
"I'm a goin' to look fo' him!" he announced. And then he sprang over the embankment and disappeared, while the cadets stood about waiting impatiently, and speculating as to what Mark's conduct could mean. Poor Stanard sat sprawled out on top of the earthworks, where[Pg 31] he sat down in amazement and confusion when he discovered that Mark was not on hand; and there he sat yet, too much amazed and confused to move or say anything.
 
Meanwhile Texas was hurrying back to barracks with all the speed he could command, his mind in a confused state of anxiety and doubt and anger. The position of humiliation in which Mark's conduct had placed him was gall and wormwood to him, and he was fast working himself into a temper of the Texas style.
 
He rushed upstairs, forgetting that such a thing as a sentry existed. He burst into the room and gazed about him. The place was empty still, and Texas slammed the door and marched downstairs again, and raced back to the fort.
 
The cadets were still waiting impatiently, for it was a good while after four by this time.
 
"Find him?" they inquired.
 
"No, I didn't!" snapped Texas.
 
"No fight, then," said Jasper. "It's evident he's flunked."
 
"Wow!" cried Texas! "No fight! What's the matter with me?"
 
[Pg 32]And, suiting the action to the word, he whipped off his coat.
 
"Not to-day," responded Jasper, with decision. "You'll have your chance another day."
 
"Unless you run home, too," sneered Harris.
 
Texas' face was fiery red with anger, and he doubled up his fists and made a leap for the last speaker.
 
"You coyote!" he roared. "You an' me'll fight now!"
 
Bull Harris started back, and before Texas could reach him half a dozen cadets interfered. Williams, the would-be defender of his class, seized the half-wild fellow by the shoulders and forced him back.
 
"Just take it easy," he commanded. "Just take it easy. You'll learn to control yourself before you've been here long."
 
Texas could do nothing, for he was surrounded completely. Bull Harris was led away, and then the rest of the cadets scattered to steal into camp, but Texas snatched up his coat in a rage, and strode away toward barracks, muttering angrily to himself, the "Parson" following behind in silence. The latter ventured to interpose a remark on the way, and Texas turned upon him angrily.
 
"Shut up!" he growled. "Mind your business!"
 
[Pg 33]Stanard gazed at him in silence.
 
"I guess I'll have to knock him down again," he said to himself.
 
But he didn't, at least, not then; and Texas pranced up to his room and flung himself into a chair, muttering uncomplimentary remarks about Mark and West Point and everything in it. It was just half-past four when he entered, and for fifteen minutes he sat and pounded the floor with his heel in rage. Texas was about as mad as he knew how to be, which was very mad indeed. And then suddenly there was a step in the hall and the door was burst open. Texas turned and looked.
 
It was Mark!
 
Texas sprang to his feet in an instant, all his wrath aflame. Mark had come in hurriedly, for he had evidently been running.
 
"What happened——" he began, but he got no further.
 
"You confounded coward!" roared Texas. "Whar did you git the nerve to show yo' face round hyar?"
 
"Why, Texas?" exclaimed Mark, in amazement.
 
Texas was prancing up and down the room, his fingers twitching.
 
[Pg 34]"I jest tell you, sah, they ain't no room in my room fo' a coward that sneaks off when he's got a fight. Now I——"
 
"I left word for you," said Mark, interrupting him.
 
"Word for me! Word for me!" howled the other. "You're a—a—a liar, sah!"
 
Mark's face was as white as a sheet, but he kept his temper.
 
"Now, Texas," he began again, soothingly. "Now, Texas——"
 
"Take that, too, will ye?" sneered Texas. "You're coward enough to swallow that, too, hey? Wonder how much more you'll stand. Try that."
 
And before Mark could raise his arm the other sprang forward and dealt him a stinging blow upon the face.
 
Mark stepped back, his whole frame quivering.
 
"How much?" he repeated, slowly. "Not that."
 
And then, just as slowly, he took off his coat.
 
"Fight, hey?" laughed Texas. "Wow! Ready?" he added, flinging his own jacket on the floor and getting his great long arms into motion. "Ready?"
 
"Yes," said Mark. "I am ready."
 
And in an instant the other leaped forward, just as he[Pg 35] had done at Fort Clinton, except that he omitted the yelling, being indoors with a sentry nearby.
 
Physically two fighters were never more evenly matched; no one, to look at them, could have picked the winner, for both were giants. But there was a difference apparent before very long. Texas fought in the wild and savage style of the prairie, nip-and-tuck, go-as-you-please; and he was wild with anger. He had swept the yearlings at Fort Clinton before him that way and he thought to do it again. Mark had another style, a style that Texas had never seen. He learned a good deal about it in a very few minutes.
 
Texas started with a rush, striking right and left with all the power of his arms; and Mark simply stepped to one side and let the wall stop Texas. That made Texas angrier still, if such a thing can be imagined. He turned and made another dash, this time aiming a savage blow at his opponent's head. In it was all the power of the Texan's great right arm, and it was meant to kill. Mark moved his head to one side and let the blow pass, stopping the rush with a firm prod in the other's chest; then he stepped aside and waited for another rush. For he did not want to hurt his excited roommate if he could help it.
 
[Pg 36]A repetition of this had no effect upon Texas, however, except to increase his fury, and Mark found that he was fast getting mad himself. A glancing blow upon the head that brought blood capped the climax, and Mark gritted his teeth and got to work. Texas made another lunge, which Mark dodged, and then, before the former could stop, Mark caught him a crushing blow upon the jaw which made his teeth rattle. Texas staggered back, and Mark followed him up rapidly, planting blow after blow upon the body of his wildly striking opponent. And in a few moments Texas, the invincible Texas, was being rapidly pummeled into submission.
 
"I'll leave his face alone," thought Mark, as he aimed a blow that half paralyzed the other's right wrist. "For I don't want the cadets to know about this."
 
And just then he landed an extra hard crack upon the other's chest, and Texas went down in a corner.
 
"Want any more?" inquired Mark, gravely.
 
Texas staggered to his feet and made one more rush, only to be promptly laid out again.
 
"I guess that's enough," thought Mark, as the other lay still and gasped. "I guess that's enough for poor Texas."
 
[Pg 37]And so saying, he took out his handkerchief, wiped the blood from his face, and then opened the door and went out.
 
"I'm sorry I had to do it," he mused; "sorry as thunder! But he made me. And anyhow, he won't want to fight very soon again."