Not until the captain was out of hearing did the roommates dare to look about. Then, with a sigh that told more than words, Barry stooped and picked up two big, fuzzy “rats” of dust. Wordless, Chick Enders took the can of foot powder from the desk and wiped up what had been spilled. Hap Newton groaned. “It was Crayle, all right,” he declared. “I recognized him by the way he carries his head.... But _why_? Why should he want to sabotage _us_?” “I think I know,” said Barry. “Two days ago he overheard Chick and me talking about him. What we said was true enough, as this frame-up proves—that Crayle is a sorehead, with an inflated ego.” “Inflated and inflamed, both!” Chick Enders exclaimed. “He’s always trying to tell what a hot pilot he is. He hates anybody who shows him up.” A hard grin stretched Hap’s wide, good-natured mouth. [Illustration: _Smoke Drifted Through a Crack in the Drawer_] “We’ll show him up for a sneaking rat,” he said. “Nose up to the desk, fellows, and we’ll get busy on that written report....” “Pull out of it, Hap!” Barry Blake interrupted. “We’ll only do a ground loop that way. Our best maneuver is to say nothing about Crayle and take our medicine. We can’t prove a thing against him, anyhow.” Hap Newton’s jaw dropped. He sat down hard on his chair. “You-you’re crazy, Blake!” he gasped. “We’re likely to be dismissed from Randolph for what’s happened this morning. Why should we sacrifice our wings, our reputation—everything we value here—to protect a yellow snake-in-the-grass like Crayle? That’s what it will mean!” “We’ve circumstantial evidence that Crayle did it,” Chick Enders put in. “He had no business in our quarters. And it _would_ have been idiotic for us to stand inspection in a room as raunchy as this, if we could help it. That ought to be plain to anybody. Get your pen and paper out, Barry.” Seated at the desk, Barry Blake shook his head. “We won’t make anything plain by accusing Glenn Crayle, fellows,” he stated. “That mister may be a fool in some ways, but he’s covered his tracks. Remember, we only _thought_ that he came from our room. And, from the captain’s viewpoint, it would be natural for us to accuse someone else if we were guilty.” Barry let those points sink into his roommates’ minds for a full minute. “On the other hand,” he went on, “suppose we face the music. That is what Captain Branch would expect us to do if we were innocent and had no proof. We’ll pay a stiff penalty, of course, but I don’t think we’ll be dismissed from the Field.” Hap Newton rose and stared out of the window. Chick Enders passed nervous fingers through his short, tow-colored hair. “You’re right as always, Barry,” the homely cadet said finally. “There’s a paragraph in ‘Compass Headings’ that says: ‘_Flying Cadets do not make excuses._’ I have a hunch we’ll be doing punishment tours for the rest of our course, but I’m ready to suffer in silence.” Hap Newton grumbled and fumed, but he, too, gave in.