Barney Breslin was not a popular youth in the Naval School.
His nature was somewhat morose; it seemed to go against him to salute
his superiors, and he had never won golden opinions for his studious
habits and strict attention to duty.
He had but one intimate in the corps of cadets, and that one was Scott
Clemmons, his roommate.
Many wondered how it was that Scott Clemmons had gotten in with Barney
Breslin, for, where the one was an aristocrat, the other had just
escaped being born in the Emerald Isle, for his parents had set foot
upon the “land of the brave and the free” only a week when Barney made
his _début_ in life.
The father of the youth had played his cards so well in the metropolis
that he had gotten to be a man of wealth and a politician of influence,
and it had been the dream of the mother’s life to see her boy an
admiral before she died.
An only son, Barney had gone it a trifle rapid for a youngster, and was
sent to the Naval School for training. As he passed his examinations he
had the courage, when a full-fledged cadet, to write to his father of
certain unpaid debts left behind in New York, and they were promptly
settled by the parent, but with an admonition that not a dollar
more should be received from the Breslin bank account until he had
graduated, and if he failed to do this he had better ship before the
mast, and not show up again under the parental roof tree.
Now, Barney was fond of a game of chance, and when he could find a
congenial spirit to play with, he often indulged in gambling, generally
to his sorrow, for he soon had several I. O. U.’s for various amounts.
It was supposed that Scott Clemmons helped Barney Breslin in his
studies, for the former was bright and stood splendidly in his classes.
In return it was hinted that Barney did many little favors for
Clemmons, mostly of a menial nature, however.
The inspector always found Clemmons’ wardrobe and half of the room neat
as a pin, while Barney was often “spotted” for disorder.
Cadets generally “size up” a man very correctly, and they decided
that when examination day came and Barney’s displacement was taken,
his tonnage in knowledge would fall short, even though aided by Scott
Clemmons.
In other words, Barney could never “bone” hard enough to step across
the threshold into the third class.
“He’ll bilge, certain,” was the general way of putting Barney’s
prospects by his fellow cadets.
It may, therefore, be inferred that Barney Breslin was as unpopular as
his roommate, Scott Clemmons, was popular, for the latter was looked
upon as a “good fellow all round,” though a trifle too haughty, perhaps.
From the first Barney had not liked Mark Merrill, and he made no effort
to disguise it.
A tall, heavily formed fellow, he possessed great brute strength, and
was brave from this very reason, feeling his power over weaker mortals,
and inclined to be a bully from nature.
One afternoon the cadets assembled in considerable force in the
gymnasium, and many were giving exhibitions of their prowess as
athletes, and no mean exhibition it was, either, for the training that
they received made iron physiques of the youths.
For some reason an unpleasant feeling rested upon many, which soon
became general when it was known that Scott Clemmons had lost a
valuable coin that morning.
It was a rare coin, what is known as a fifty-dollar gold piece,
octagonal in shape, and always quoted at a large premium on account of
the scarcity of such issues of money.
All who had seen Scott Clemmons with it knew that he called it his
“luck coin,” and that he prized it most highly.
He had changed his clothes that morning, leaving the coin in the pants
he had taken off, and, going for it an hour after, he found it gone.
Barney Breslin had expressed himself boldly about one whom he believed
had taken the coin, as he had said that he met a cadet coming out of
the room of Scott Clemmons and himself, and unless the gold piece was
returned that night, he would make his accusation public.
He would not give a hint as to whom he suspected, but said:
“Wait until night, and then I shall accuse the one I deem the thief,”
and he turned away to perform an act which he had won quite a
reputation for, which was to walk around the pedestrian track of the
gymnasium on his hands.
“Can you do that, Merrill?” asked Scott Clemmons, who stood near him,
and there was a sneer in his tone and manner.
“I think so,” was the quiet response, and Mark Merrill threw himself
upon his hands and began to go around the track, when suddenly, with a
loud ring, the missing gold-piece rolled from his pocket amid almost a
roar of amazement from his brother cadets.