The professor was lecturing the class on presence of mind as the
supreme requisite of a successful soldier. He paused, and looked
directly at his young enemy:
"Of course, there are some who will always be confused and wanting in an
emergency--not from cowardice, but from the mediocre nature of their
minds."
The insult was direct and intended. He hoped to provoke an outburst
which would bring punishment, if not disgrace.
The cadet's lips merely tightened and the steel from the depths of his
blue eyes flashed into his enemy's for a moment. He would bide his time.
Three days later, in a building crowded with students, the professor was
teaching the class the process of making fire-balls.
The room was a storehouse of explosives and the ball suddenly burst into
flames.
Cadet Davis saw it first and calmly turned to his tormentor:
"The fire-ball has ignited, sir,--what shall I do?"
The professor dashed for the door:
"Run! Run for your lives!"
The cadet snatched the fire-ball from the floor, dashed it through the
window and calmly walked out.
He had saved many lives and the building from destruction. His revenge
was complete and sweet. But deeper and sweeter than his triumph over an
enemy was the consciousness that he was master of himself.
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