Arlington’s face grew purple with rage. With a quick movement, he seized the proffered foil, and an instant later the blade whistled through the air as he sought to strike Dick across the mask with it. Down dropped Merriwell, his left foot sliding back and the fingers of his left hand lightly touching the floor. At the same instant he thrust, and the button of his foil struck against Chester’s padded jacket with such force that the blade was doubled into a half circle. For all of this thrust Dick was up and away before Chet could recover. “Try that again! Try that again!” grated Arlington. Even as he uttered the words, while he was following Dick up, the latter once more dropped and thrust. To every one it seemed that Chester was beyond reach, yet that movement on the part of his antagonist gave Dick such a long lunge that he easily counted. “There you have it!” whispered Buckhart, in great satisfaction. Arlington was astounded. “What do you think of that, professor?” he demanded. “Is it allowable?” “Perfectly,” answered Broad. “All right! all right!” snarled Chet, once more seeking to engage his antagonist. By this time Arlington realized that he was in no way a match for Dick with the foils. Still he vowed to himself he would not stop until he had countered once on Merriwell. At last Dick lowered the point of his foil in such a manner that Chester fancied the opening was such that he could not be checked. Nevertheless, with a sidelong movement of his hand, the marvelous young fencer caught Chet’s blade and turned it so that again the foils slid past until the guards touched. Once more there came that twisting snap of the wrist, and once more Arlington’s blade was sent spinning into the air. Chet stood panting and baffled, making no attempt to pick the weapon up. “I should say that was about enough,” declared Broad, who saw that Arlington was too angry to continue. “You had better try some one for whom you are more nearly a match.” “Oh! I am a match for him,” panted Chet. “He will find it out yet!” With that, overcome with chagrin and shame, Arlington turned and hastened to the dressing room. CHAPTER XII. A DASTARDLY DEED. The following afternoon there was an extra drill of Arlington’s class, in which he was compelled to take part. He detested this work, and his heart was full of envy as he stood in line with his classmates, bearing a rifle, and saw the members of the baseball team, several of whom had been excused from drill, hastening away to the ball ground. “Oh, this is a fine old school!” he thought. “Now if I was on the baseball team I could get out of this work.” His mind wandered so that he failed to hear the command, twice repeated, of “right dress,” and at length the cadet officer in command was compelled to speak directly to him. “Dress, Cadet Arlington!” was the order.