That man was turnback Haynes.
His trouble was that he had allowed a private and senseless grudge
to get uppermost in his mind. He lived more for the gratification
of that grudge than he did for the realization of his own ambitions.
"This confounded Prescott has escaped me, so far, though his last
experience was a narrow squeak. I've had two tries---and, by
the great blazes! the third time is said never to fail. He's
in such bad shape now that it won't take much of a push to put
him over the edge of physical condition. But how can I do it?"
So much thought did the turnback give to this problem that he
fell further and further behind in general review. He was moving
rapidly toward the bottom of the class.
Worse, he began to dream of his grudge by night. In his dreams
Haynes always reviewed his hopes of successful villainy, or else
found himself trying to put through some new bit of profound rascality.
Always the turnback awoke from such dreams to find himself in a
cold sweat.
"I'll hit the right scheme---the real chance---yet!" the plotter
told himself, as he tossed restlessly at night, while his roommate,
Cadet Pierson, slept soundly the sleep of the just and decent.
"Haynesy, what's the matter with you?" demanded Pierson one morning,
as he watched his roommate going toward the washstand.
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