When rigged out in his uniform Mark Merrill was certainly a very handsome and striking-looking lad. The corps tailor had complimented him by saying he had never measured a finer formed lad for his clothes, and seldom one his equal. Fortunately for the new men, there had recently been several dismissals from the academy of “hazers,” so that no great indignities were heaped upon Mark and the others. Still they came in for their share of petty jokes played upon them, all of which Mark submitted to as really a part of the discipline of the institution. He was universally good-natured, dignified, yet courteous to all, and on duty and in study hours nothing could move him from what he deemed right. He was a favorite with the officers, popular with his comrades, and yet for all that there seemed to be some mysterious undercurrent working against him. Once his cap was missing, and he was absent at roll call, so a demerit went against him; but he did not report that his cap had been cleverly taken from his room by some one. Another time he could not find his shoes for parade, and again a demerit went down against his name. A third time his handsome uniform was disfigured by enormous ink stains, and he knew that he was no more responsible for that than he had been for his missing hat and shoes. His books, too, became disfigured in some mysterious way, and one morning he was reported as having been caught out of his room at night when he had been fast asleep in bed. So Mark Merrill, without a word in his own defense, had been put on the list for a reprimand and punishment. These constant demerits were counting up sadly against Mark, until he knew that by the end of his first year they would be so formidable as to mean dismissal. Yet what could he do to save himself? He was innocent of wrong-doing, and though he suspected his persecutor, he had no proof of it that he was right in his suspicions, while, if he was, he had too manly a nature to go and report him. So he determined to suffer in silence, and trust to some good fortune to make all things even in the end. CHAPTER XXIV. A SECRET FRIEND. The petty persecutions of Mark Merrill became so persistent, so annoying, and so frequent that those who knew how matters were going became confident that, as they all counted against the young sailor and not against unknown persecutors, he would not be able to stay his year out at the academy. It had leaked out that Mark Merrill had been a tough citizen at home, and was nothing more than a coast fisherman, until brought into a position above his station by an appointment to the naval school. In truth there were a number of rumors about the academy detrimental to our young hero, and though they reached his ears, often most unpleasantly from hearing them himself, oftener from having them told him by his devoted chum, Bemis Perry, he suffered in silence, making no denials.