Chick stood staring at the angry youth in amazement. He could not understand why his well-intentioned advice should have brought forth such a burst of wrath. Still less could he understand why he should be ordered to leave a room in which, so far as he knew, he had been welcome as a friend and helper for the last three years. Nor could Halpert McCormack understand it. Or, if he did dimly understand the cause of Barriscale’s wrath he could have no sympathy with him in his angry outburst. Up to this moment he had been a silent witness to the affair. Now he felt that it was just to Chick, and due to his own self-respect, that he should take a hand in it. “You don’t have to go, Chick,” he said quietly. “I’ve as much authority here as Barriscale has, and I tell you to stay.” Ben’s face, already flushed with anger, turned scarlet now. For a moment he could not find words with which to express his indignation. But when he did speak it was apparent that the current of his wrath had changed and was setting violently toward Hal. “What business is it of yours,” he demanded, “what orders I give to this intermeddling runt?” “It’s my business,” replied Hal, “because you’ve no right to give such orders. Besides, Chick wasn’t intermeddling; he intended to do you a favor.” “Me? Do me a favor?” He spoke in a voice and manner of infinite scorn. “Yes. He was entirely right when he said it was improper and against the rules to use emery paper on your rifle barrel. A little oil, a piece of soft wood, and a woolen rag will remove a spot of rust effectually and save the finish on your barrel.” If Hal had thought to appease his comrade’s wrath by this explanation, he soon discovered his error. Barriscale was more violently angry than before. “Who set you up,” he shouted, “as an instructor in the care of arms?” McCormack was still calm. “No one,” he replied. “I’ve simply studied my regulations, and Chick taught me, a week ago, how to remove rust.” “Oh, Chick taught you, did he? Major-General Chick! No wonder you’ve made a bosom friend of him! It seems to be the height of your ambition to make boon companions of anarchists and fools!” This was his parting shot. He put his rifle in its place in the rack with a bang, flung his cleaning appliances into his locker and snapped the door shut, and then, white with unreasonable rage, he left the room. CHAPTER VI