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.