dick prescott's third year at west point or standing firm for flag and honor by h. irving hancock contents chapters i. on furlough in the old home town ii. brass meets gold iii. dick & co. again iv. what about mr. cameron? v. along a "dangerous" road vi. the surprise the lawyer had in store vii. prescott lays a powder trail viii. a father's just wrath strikes ix. back to the good, gray life x. the scheme of the turnback xi. brayton makes a big appeal xii. in the battle against lehigh xiii. when the cheers broke loose xiv. for auld lang syne xv. heroes and a sneak xvi. roll-call gives the alarm xvii. mr. cadet slowpoke xviii. the enemies have an understanding xix. the traitor of the riding hall xx. in cadet hospital xxi. the man moving in a dark room xxii. the row in the riding detachment xxiii. the degree of "coventry" xxiv. conclusion chapter i on furlough in the old home town "my son, richard. he is home on his furlough from the military academy at west point." words would fail in describing motherly pride with which mrs. prescott introduced her son to mrs. davidson, wife of the new pastor. "i am very glad to meet you, mr. prescott," said mrs. davidson, looking up, for up she had to glance in order to see the face of this tall, distinguished-looking cadet. dick prescott's return bow was made with the utmost grace, yet without affectation. his natty straw hat he held in his right hand, close to his breast. mrs. davidson was a sensible and motherly woman, who wished to give this young man the pleasantest greeting, but she was plainly at a loss to know what to say. like many excellent and ordinarily well-informed american people, she had not the haziest notions of west point. "you are learning to be a soldier, of course?" she asked. "yes, mrs. davidson," replied dick gravely. neither in his face nor in his tone was there any hint of the weariness with which he had so often, of late, heard this aimless question repeated. "and when you are through with your course there," pursued mrs. davidson, "do you enlist in the army? or may you, if you prefer, become a sailor in our--er--navy?" "oh, i fear, mrs. davidson, that you don't understand," smiled mrs. prescott proudly. my son is now going through a very rigorous four years' course at the military academy. it is a course that is superior, in most respects to a college training, but that it is devoted to turning out commissioned officers for the army. when richard graduates, in two years more, he will be commissioned by the president as a second lieutenant in the army." "oh, i understood you to say that you were training to become a soldier, mr. prescott," cried mrs. davidson in some confusion. "i did not understand that you would become an officer." "an officer who is not also a good soldier is a most unfortunate and useless fellow under the colors," laughed dick lightly. "but it is so much more honorable to be an officer than to be a mere soldier!" cried the pastor's wife. "we do not think so in the army, mrs. davidson," dick answered more responsibility, to be sure, but we feel that the honor falls alike on men of all grades of position who are privileged to wear their country's uniform." "but don't the officers look down on the common soldiers?" asked mrs. davidson curiously. "if an officer does, then surely he has chosen the wrong career in life, madam," the cadet replied seriously. "we are not taught at west point that an officer should 'look down' upon an enlisted man. there is a gulf of discipline, but none of manhood, between the enlisted man and his officer. and it frequently happens that the officer who is a graduate from west point is called upon to welcome, as a brother officer, a man who has just been promoted from the ranks." mrs. davidson looked puzzled, as, indeed, she was. but she suddenly remembered something that made her feel more at ease. "why, i saw an officer and some soldiers on a train, the other day," she cried. "the officer had at least eight or ten soldiers with him, under his command. i remember what a fine-looking young man he was. he had what looked like two v's on his sleeve, and i remember that they were yellow. what kind of an officer is the man who wears the two yellow v's?" "a non-commissioned officer, mrs. davidson; a corporal of cavalry." "was he higher that you'll be when you graduate from west point?" "no; a corporal is an enlisted man, a step above the private soldier. the sergeant is also an enlisted man, and above the corporal. above the sergeant comes the second lieutenant, who is the lowest-ranking commissioned officer." "oh, i am sure i never could understand it all," sighed mrs. davidson. "why don't they have just plain soldiers and captains, and put the captains in a different color of uniform? then ordinary people could comprehend something about the army. but in describing that young soldier's uniform, i forgot something, mr. prescott. that young soldier, or officer, or whatever he was, beside the two yellow v's, had a white stripe near the hem of his cuff." "just one white stripe?" queried dick. "just one, i am sure." "then that one white stripe would show that the corporal, before entering the cavalry, had served one complete enlistment in the infantry." "oh, this is simply incomprehensible!" cried the new pastor's wife in comical dismay. "i am certain that i could never learn to know all these things." "it is a little confusing at first," smiled dick's mother with another show of pride. "but i think i am beginning to understand quite a lot of it." mrs. davidson went out of the bookstore conducted by dick's parents in the little city of gridley. dick sighed a bit wearily. "why don't americans take a little more pains to understand things american?" he asked his mother, with a comical smile. "people who would be ashamed not to know something about st. peter's, at rome, or the london tower, are not quite sure what the purpose of the united states military academy is." yet, though some people annoyed him with their foolish questions, he was heartily glad to be back, for the summer, in the dear old home town. so was his chum, greg holmes, also a west point cadet, and, like prescott, a member of the new second class at the united states military academy. both young men had now been in gridley for forty-eight hours. they had met a host old-time friends, including nearly all of the high school students of former days. readers of "_dick prescott's first year at west point_" and of "_dick prescott's second year at west point_," are familiar with the careers of the two chums, prescott and holmes, at the united states military academy. the same readers are also familiar with the life at west point of bert dodge, a former gridley boy, but who had been appointed a cadet from another part of the state. our old readers are aware of the fact that dodge had been forced out of the military academy for dishonorable conduct; that it was the cadets, not the authorities, who had compelled his departure, and that dodge resigned and left before the close of his second year. readers of these volumes of the _high school boys' series_ know all about bert dodge in the course of his career at gridley high school. dodge, back in the old days in gridley, had been a persistent enemy of dick & co., as prescott and his five chums had always been called in the high school. of those five chums greg, as is well known, was dick's comrade at west point. dave darrin and dan dalzell were now midshipmen at the united states naval academy at annapolis. their adventures while learning to be united states navel officers, are fully set forth in the annapolis series. tom reade and harry hazelton had chosen to go west, where they became civil engineers engaged in railway construction through the wild parts of the country, as fully set forth in the _young engineers' series_. just after mrs. davidson left the bookstore there were no customers left, so dick had a few moments in which to chat with his mother. "what has become of the fellow dodge?" asked the young west pointer. "oh, haven't i told you?" asked his mother. a shade of annoyance crossed her face, for she well knew that it was dodge who, while at west point, had nearly succeeded in having her son dismissed from the service on a charge of which dodge, not dick, was guilty. "no, mother; and i haven't thought to ask." "bert dodge is here in gridley at present. the dodge family are occupying their old home here for a part of the summer." "do people here understand that dodge had to resign from west point in order to escape a court-martial that would have bounced him out of the military academy?" dick inquired. "no; very few know it. i have mentioned dodge's disgrace to only one person beside your father." "you told laura bentley?" "yes, dick. she had a right to know. laura has always been your loyal friend. when she reached west point, last winter, expecting to go to a cadet hop with you, she remained at west point until you had been tried by court-martial and acquitted on that unjust charge. laura had a right to know the whole story." "she surely had," nodded dick. "as to gridley people in general," went on mrs. prescott, "i have not felt it necessary to say anything, and folks generally believe that bert dodge resigned from the corps of cadets simply because he did not find army life to his liking." "he wouldn't have found it to his liking had he chosen not to resign," smiled prescott darkly. "are you going to say anything about dodge while you are home?" inquired his mother, glancing up quickly. "not a word, if i can avoid it," replied dick. "i hate tale-bearers." at this moment the postman came in, blowing his whistle and rapidly sorting out a pile of letters, which he dropped on the counter. "there are probably a lot here for me, mother," smiled dick. "shall i separate then from the business mail?" "if you will, my boy." some dozen of the envelopes proved to be addressed to young prescott. of these two were letters frown west point classmates. three were from old friends in gridley, sending him congratulations and expressing the hope of meeting him during his furlough. the remainder of the letters were mainly invitations of a social nature. "odd!" grinned the young soldier. when i was merely a high school boy i could go a whole month without receiving anything resembling a social invitation. now i am receiving them at the rate of a score a day." "well, a west point cadet is some one socially, is he not?" smiled mrs. prescott. "i suppose so," nodded dick. "the truth is, a cadet has so much social attention paid to him that it is a wonder more of the fellows are not spoiled." "are you going to accept any social invitations while you are home?" asked his mother. "that depends," dick answered. "if invitations come from people who were glad to see me when i was a high school boy here, then i shall try to accept. but i don't care much about meeting who didn't care about meeting me two years ago. here is a note from miss clara deane, mother. she trusts that greg and i can make it convenient to call at her home next saturday afternoon, and meet some of her friends. when i attended gridley miss deane used to look down on me because i was a poor man's son. i believe her set referred to me as a 'mucker.' at least, the fellows of her set did. so i shall send miss deane a brief note of regret." dick continued to examine his mail while carrying on a running fire of talk with his proud and happy mother. "oh, here is a very nice note from susie sharp," he murmured, opening another epistle. "she is having quite a few friends at the house this afternoon, and she begs that greg and i will be present. miss sharp was a very nice girl in the old days, although she and i never happened to be very particular friends. now, i want to have all the time i can for my real friends of the old days." "miss sharp would be very proud to entertain two men from west point," suggested his mother. "that's just the reason," dick answered. "miss sharp invites us not because she was ever much a friend of ours, but simply because she is anxious to entertain two cadets. she probably reasons that it may give distinction to her afternoon tea, or whatever the affair is." "then you are not going?" asked mrs. prescott. "i hardly think so. not unless greg wishes it." the next envelope that dick picked up was addressed in laura bentley's handwriting. dick read for a moment, then announced: "i have changed my mind. i shall go to call on miss sharp. laura urges me to, saying that miss sharp has been very kind to her in the last year. if laura wishes it, i'll go to call on any one." at this moment greg holmes, tall, muscular, erect and looking as though he had just come from the tailor's iron, stepped cheerily into the store. "morning, old ramrod," hailed the other cadet. "i know you don't mind that kind of talk, mrs. prescott. it's our term of affection for dick at west point. going through your invitations, are you? aren't they the bore, though. especially as we had very few invitations when we were high school boys in this same old town." "you received one from susie: sharp, of course?" "yes," greg assented. "and i'm going---not!" "you are going---yes!" dick retorted. "oh!" nodded greg. "am i entitled to any explanation?" "laura wishes it." "that's a whole platoon of reasons boiled down into one file-closer," grinned greg. "yes; i am going to visit miss sharp this afternoon." "have you heard that bert dodge is in town at present?" "no!" muttered greg. then added tersely: "the b.j.(fresh) rascal! i wonder what folks here think of a sneak who was forced to resign by a cadet committee on honor?" "folks here don't know that dodge was forced out of the academy." "thank you for telling me," nodded greg. "then i shall know how to keep my mouth shut. laura will be a miss sharp's this afternoon, of course?" "naturally. and belle meade, also." "then," proposed greg, "suppose we 'phone the girls and ask if we may call this afternoon and escort them to miss sharp's. we must do something to show that we appreciate their loyalty in remaining at west point last winter until your name was cleared of disgrace." "yes; we'll 'phone them," nodded dick. on both days, so far, that he had been home, dick had called at dr. bentley's to see laura. in fact, that was the only calling he had done, though he had met scores of friends on the street. both young ladies were pleased to accept the proffered escort. "by the way," proposed greg, "what are you going to do this morning?" "going out for a walk, for one thing," replied dick. "i've talked to mother until she must have ear-ache on both sides, and feel tired of having me home." "what do you saw if we trot around and extract handshakes from some of the follows we used to pack schoolbooks with?" hinted holmes. "for instance, ennerton is down at the bank, in a new job. foss is advertising manager in curlham & peck's department store. i know he'll be glad to see us if we don't take up too much of his employer's time. then ted sanders-----" and so greg continued to enumerate a lot of the old gridley high school boys of whose present doings he had gotten track. dick and greg left the bookstore and started on the rounds to hunt up the best remembered of their old schoolmates. and a pleasant morning they had of it. thought the sun poured down its heat over the little city, these two cadets, who had drilled for two summers on the blistering plain and the dusty roads at west point, did not notice the warmth of the day. in the afternoon, in good season, dick called for laura, waiting there until belle meade arrived under the escort of greg. "these west pointers make the most correct and attentive escorts imaginable," laughed belle. "but there's just one disadvantage connected with them." "i hadn't noticed it," smiled laura. "why, when greg walks beside me, and holds my parasol, i feel as though i were in the street with my parasol tied to the methodist steeple. where's your rice powder, laura? i'm sure the sun has made a sight of my nose and neck." laughing merrily, the young people set off for miss sharp's. the home was a comfortable one, with attractive grounds, for the elder sharp was a well-to-do merchant. some three score of young people were present, and of these nearly two thirds had belonged to the high school student body in the old high school days of dick and greg. naturally, the young ladies outnumbered the young men by more than four to one. "oh, i am delighted that you two have come," cried susie, moving forward to greet her cadet visitors. this was wholly true, for miss sharp had planned the affair solely in order to have the distinction of entertaining the young west pointers. had dick and greg remained away, susie, without doubt, would have been both disappointed and humiliated. through the connecting drawing rooms dick and greg moved with a grace and lack of consciousness greatly in contrast with their semi-awkwardness in their earlier high school days. many pleasant acquaintances were renewed here. suddenly, susie, catching a glimpse of the front walk, hastened out into the hallway. then she came in, smiling eagerly, a well-dressed, pompous-looking young man at her side. "mr. prescott! mr. holmes!" called susie. "here is an old comrade whom you both may be surprised to meet!" dick and greg turned, and indeed, they were astonished. for the latest arrival was bert dodge! "howdy, fellows!" called dodge carelessly, though inwardly he was quaking with alarm. how would these two decent cadets treat the fellow who had been kicked out of west point for dishonorable acts? prescott bowed, but did not speak. greg's line of conduct was identical with his chum's. bert turned white, at first, with mortification. then a red flush set in at his neck, extending to his face and temples. but dodge possessed "brass," if not honor, so he decided to face it out. turning to a young woman standing nearby, bert spoke to her, and they laughed and chatted. from her, bert passed through the room nodding here, chatting there. dick and greg, after the first look of amazement, followed by their cold bows, had turned to the old friends with whom they had been chatting. in the course of a few minutes bert dodge had got along close to the two cadets. "how are you, prescott?" called bert. "how is good old west point? and you, holmes---how are you?" dodge held out his hand with all the effrontery of which he was capable. turning, dick gave the sneak only a cold, steady look. chapter ii brass meets gold neither dick nor greg took the trouble to answer the greeting. dodge's outstretched hand both cadets affected not to see. as it happened, few of the others present noted this brief little scene. a natural break in the crowd left dick alone for the moment, with holmes standing not far away and looking coldly in the direction of the ex-cadet, yet not appearing to see him at all. "well, what's the matter?" hissed dodge in an undertone that the other guests did not hear. "are you going to make a fool of yourself, prescott?" "you'd better execute a right-about face and make double-time away from here," replied dick in a freezing undertone. "otherwise i don't believe the guests will fail to observe how west pointers regard a convicted sneak." "are you going to open your mouth and do a lot of talking?" whispered dodge menacingly. "or are you going to keep your tongue behind your teeth?" "i can't undertake to lower myself by making any promises to a sneak," retorted dick, still in an undertone. "but i warn you that any further conversation i have with you will be carried on in ordinary conversational tones. and if you undertake to remain, we shall be obliged to inform our hostess that we regret our inability to stay any longer." conscious that others were probably looking their way, bert dodge tried to make his face as expressionless as possible. "see here, prescott-----" the fellow began coaxingly. but dick turned and walked away. greg, very stiff and straight, moved at his friend's side. afraid of what others might notice, dodge passed on. he presently reached a door leading into the hallway. here he remained briefly. then, when he believed himself to be unobserved, he slipped out, took his hat and got away. a few minutes later, as dick and greg passed the door of a little reception room, susie sharp called them in quietly. they found her there alone. "oh, mr. prescott! mr. holmes! have i made any mistake, i thought it would be a pleasant surprise to you both if i had mr. dodge here to meet you, as you all three were classmates at west point. but i should have remembered that in the old high school days you two and mr. dodge were not the best of friends." there was an agitated catch in susie's voice. their young hostess was worried by the thought that she had invited jarring elements to meet. "why, to be candid, i don't believe dodge ever admired either greg or myself very much, replied cadet prescott evenly. "but did i make a fearful mistake?" pleaded susie. "one cannot make a mistake who aims at the pleasure of others," dick answered smilingly. somewhat reassured, susie asked her cadet guests to return with her to the drawing rooms. there they joined a little group, and were chatting when a girl's voice reached them from a few feet away. the girl who was speaking did not realize that her tones carried as far as the ears of dick and greg as she explained to two other young women: "mr. dodge said he resigned from the military academy because he could not stand the crowd there." "i guess that's true," muttered dick inwardly. "the crowd couldn't stand dodge, either." but sam foss made the conversation general by calling: "how about that, dick! i always thought west point was a very select place. bessie frost says dodge left west point because he thought the fellows there rather below his grade socially." "perhaps they are," nodded dick gravely, but in even tones. "i have heard it stated that about sixty per cent. of the cadets are the sons of wage-earners. indeed, one of the cadets whom i most respect has not attempted to conceal the fact that, until he graduates and begins to draw officer's pay, his mother will have to continue to support herself at the washtub. that young man is now in the first class, and i can tell you that we are all mighty anxious to see that man graduate and find himself where he can look after a noble mother who has the misfortune to be unusually poor in purse." "then as an american, i'm proud of west point, if it has fellows with no more false shame than that," cried foss heartily. "why, i always thought west point a very swell place, extremely so," murmured bessie frost. "in fact--pardon me, won't you---i have always heard that the young men at west point are very much puffed up and very exclusive." dick laughed good-humoredly. "of course, miss frost, the cadet is expected to learn how to become a gentleman as well as an officer. yet why should any of us feel unduly conceited? we are privileged to secure one of the best educations to be obtained in the world, but we obtain it at public expense. not only our education, but all our living expenses are paid for out of the nation's treasury, and that money is contributed by all tax-payers alike. if we of the cadet corps should get any notion that we belong to a superior race of beings, to whom would we owe it all? are the cadets not indebted for their opportunities to all the citizens of the united states?" "did bert dodge have any especial trouble at west point?" asked another girl. "mr. dodge did not make us his confidants," evaded dick coolly. "what do you say, mr. holmes?" persisted the same girl. "about the same that dick does," replied greg. "you see, there are several hundred cadets at west point, and dick and i were not in the same section with dodge." "was he one of the capable students there?" "why, he was in a much higher section than either dick or myself," admitted greg truthfully; but he did not think it necessary to explain the trickery and cribbing by which dodge had secured the appearance of higher scholarship. at this point the tact and good sense of miss susie sharp caused her to use her opportunities as hostess to break up the group and to start some new lines of conversation. but susie was uneasy, and presently she found a chance to whisper to laura bentley: "tell me, dear---what lies back of the fact that mr. dodge does not seem to be on good terms with mr. prescott and mr. holmes?" "did bert dodge know that dick and greg were to be here!" asked miss bentley. "no; i wanted it to be a surprise on both sides." "it must have been, my dear," smiled laura "the fact is that dick and greg are not on friendly terms with mr. dodge." "oh!" murmured susie, moving away. "i am glad that it was no worse." a large tent had been erected on one of the lawns. to this tent, later in the afternoon, miss sharp invited her guests. here a collation had been served, with pretty accessories, by a caterer, and several waiters stood about to serve. when the guests returned to the house they discovered that the rugs had been removed, and that an orchestra was now at hand to furnish music for dancing. given music and a smooth floor, young people do not mind exertion on a hot june afternoon. dancing was at once in full swing. nor did the young people leave until after six o'clock. greg escorted belle meade home, dick walking with laura. the two cadet chums met on main street a little later. they stood near a corner, chatting, when bert dodge came unexpectedly around the corner. he saw the two cadets, changed color, then halted. neither dick nor greg checked their conversation, nor let it be known that they were aware of the ex-cadet's presence. but dodge, after looking at the chums sourly for a moment, stepped squarely in front of them. "see here, you fellows-----" he began, his voice sounding thickly. "have you the impudence to address us," asked prescott coolly. "don't talk to me about impudence!" snarled dodge. "what did you two say about me, after i left this afternoon?" "oh, i assure you we didn't discuss you any more than was necessary," replied dick frigidly. "what did you say?" insisted dodge. "we couldn't say much about you," greg broke in icily. "you know, you're hardly a fit subject for conversation." "see here, you two fellows," warned bert angrily, "you want to be mighty careful what you say about me! do you understand? a single unfriendly word, that does any injury to my reputation, and i'll take it out of you." prescott would not go to the length of sneering. he allowed an amused twinkle to show in his eyes. "on your way, dodge that's the best course for you," advised greg coldly. "we're not interested in your threats of fight, and you ought to know better, too, after some of the thumpings you've had." "fight?" jeered dodge harshly. "you fellows seem to think you're still in cadet barracks, and that all you have to do is to call me out, and that my only recourse is to put up an argument before a class scrap committee. but you fellows aren't at west point just now, and cadet committees don't run things here. you're back in civilization, where we have laws and regular courts. now, if i find that you fellows are saying a single word against me i'll have you both arrested for criminal libel. i'll have you put through the courts, too, and sent to jail. then, when you get out of jail, you can find out what your high and mighty west point friends think of that!" dodge finished with a harsh, sneering laugh, then turned on his heel. "the cheap skate!" muttered greg, looking after the retreating fellow. "humph! i'd like to see him make any trouble for us!" "he may try it," muttered prescott, gazing thoughtfully after their ancient enemy. "how?" demanded greg. "we don't think him worth talking about among decent people, so we'll give him not the slightest chance to make any trouble." "we won't give dodge any real cause, of course," nodded dick gravely. "but a scoundrel like dodge doesn't need real cause. that young man has altogether more spending money than is good for his morals. why, with his money, greg, dodge would know how to find people, apparently respectable, who would be willing to accept a price for perjuring themselves." "humph!" uttered greg. "if dodge could get such testimony, and his perjurers would stick to their yarns," continued dick, "then the young scoundrel might be actually able to carry out his threats." "he wouldn't dare!" "if it were anything high-minded and dangerous, dodge wouldn't dare," admitted dick. "but minds like his will dare a good deal to put through anything scoundrelly against people who try to be decent." chapter iii dick & co. again "hey, there, you galoot! you thin, long-drawn-out seven feet of tin soldier!" after having been home a week, dick prescott flushed as he wheeled about to meet this jeering greeting. in another instant every trace of his wrath had vanished. "tom reade!" hailed dick in great delight, turning and rushing at his old high school chum. "and good little harry hazelton!" it was, indeed, the young engineer pair, reade and hazelton, old-time members of dick & co., the great high school crowd of gridley. reade and hazelton, after finishing at the high school, had gone out to colorado to serve under the engineer in charge of a great piece of railway construction work. the adventures of tom and harry, in the wild spots of the west, are fully set forth in the volumes of the _young engineers series_. "the last fellow i expected to meet in gridley!" cried dick, overflowing with delight as he stuck out both hands at once and grasped theirs. "well, we are, aren't we?" demanded reade. "you are---what?" "the last fellows you've met in gridley. but where's greg?" "if he's out of bed," grinned prescott, "he's in cit. clothes." "carrying a rifle and marching the lock-step---the route-step, i mean---has dulled your brain," growled tom reade. "is greg in gridley?" "what scoundrel is taking my name in vein?" demanded holmes, coming upon the trio. then there were hearty greetings, all over again. but in the end reade looked greg over from head to foot. "do they make you sleep on a stretcher at west point?" tom wanted to know. "or what do they do, to pull a pair of galoots out to the length that you two have attained." "it's the physical training and the military drills," explained prescott, laughing. "but my! you fellows look like the indian's head on a copper cent!" tom and harry were, indeed, highly bronzed by the hot southwestern sun. harry, in fact, was well on the way to being black, so burned had he become by his last few months of work. "i hope, if you fellows are ever allowed to go forth into the army, you'll get your first station down in arizona," teased tom. "i don't," retorted greg, "if it will make us look like you two." "oh, it won't," broke in harry mockingly. "you see, we have to work down in arizona. but you fellows wouldn't. we've seen some thing of the soldiery down in that part of the world, and they're the laziest crowd you ever saw. why, the army officers in arizona sleep all day and grumble about the heat all night. they have tame apaches to do their work for them. oh, no, you wouldn't suffer down in arizona!" "but how do you fellows come to be home at this time?" asked dick. "homesick!" sighed tom. "the fellows in our engineer corps are entitled to some leave. so harry and i waited until we had enough leave piled up, and then we started back for gridley." "well, it's hot on this corner," muttered greg, "and there's an ice cream place down the block, where the electric fans are going. let's make a raid on the place. do you fellows remember when we were happy if we could buy a ten-cent plate and then get by ourselves with six spoons to dip into the ice cream? come on! let's get good and square for those days." "yes; it is hot here on this corner," assented dick. "hot?" demanded reade impatiently. "humph! harry and i were just regretting that we hadn't worn our top coats today. we came to gridley to cool off, and this old town seems like a heaven of coolness after the baked-brown alkali deserts of arizona." "double orders for each one of us," explained harry, after the quartette of one time high school chums had seated themselves under a buzzing fan. now, the chums of old days had time to look each other over more closely. tom and harry were taller than in the old high school days, but they had not quite reached the height of dick and greg. both of the young civil engineers, besides being heavily bronzed, were thin and sinewy looking. thin as they were, both looked the pictures of health. though tom and harry did not "advertise" their tailors as well as did the two west point cadets, nevertheless the pair of young civil engineers looked prosperous. they had the general air of being the kind of young men who are destined to succeed splendidly in life. before the ice cream---the first double order, that is---reached the table, all of the young men were plunged into stories of their adventures during the last two years. readers of these two series are familiar with the adventures that the young men discussed. "you've been getting a heap more excitement out of life, you two," prescott admitted frankly. "still, from my point of view, i wouldn't swap with you." "just as bughouse on west point and the army as ever, are you?" quizzed hazelton. "just as much, and always will be," dick nodded, beaming. "i can't share your enthusiasm," laughed hazelton. "we've seen the army in the west, and they're a lazy, little-account lot." instead of getting angry, however, dick and greg laughed outright. "i wish we had you at west point for forty-eight hours, right in barracks and academic building," declared greg, his eyes dancing. "whew! but you'd be able to view real world from a new angle!" "oh, maybe at west point," nodded hazelton teasingly. "but afterwards, in the army, it's just one dream of indolence." "well, what do the army officers actually do, out your ways" challenged greg. "why, they---well, they-----" "you don't know a blessed thing about it, do you?" dared greg. "i thought not. you see, we do know something about what army officers do with their time. that's what we're learning at west point." "don't let's fight," pleaded tom pathetically. "fellows, we may never meet again. before another year rolls around hazelton and i may have been scalped and burned by the apaches, and you fellows may have died at west point, from nervous prostration brought on by overeating and lack of exercise. so let's be good friends during the little time that we may have together." "when you get time," put in dick dryly, "you might as well tell us when you reached gridley." "after ten o'clock last night," supplied harry. "of course, we had to go home first. but this morning we set out to find you. we knew, of course, that any place would be likelier than your homes, so we tried main street first." "many folks were glad to see you?" asked tom. "too many," sighed dick. "that remark doesn't apply to any old friends, but there are a good many who always turned up their noses at us in the old days. now, just because we're cadets, and because half-baked army officers are supposed to be somebody in the social world, greg and i are getting so much social mail that we fear we shall have to hire a secretary for the summer." "nobody will bother _us_, i guess," grimaced tom. "most people here probably think that, because we're engineers, we run locomotives. that's what the word 'engineer' suggests to ignoramuses. now, the man who runs a locomotive should properly be called an engine-tender, or engineman, while it's the fellow who surveys and bosses the building of a railroad that is the engineer. you get a smattering of engineering work at west point, don't you?" "we've been at math. and drawing, so far," dick explained. "that all leads up to the engineering instruction that we shall have to take up in september." "oh, i dare say you'll get a very fair smattering of engineering," assented tom. "it's nothing like the real practice that we get, though, out in the field with the survey and construction parties. i guess you fellows, after your grind in the high school, found west point math. pretty easy, didn't you?" dick laughed merrily before he answered. "tom, the math. that a fellow gets in high school would take up about three months at west point. how are you on math., now?" "oh, not so fearfully rotten," replied reade complacently. "harry and i have had to dig up a lot of new math. since we've taken on with an engineering corps in the field. harry, trot up some of the kind of mathematics that we have to use." "wait a moment," put in dick. "greg, sketch out an easy one from the math. problems we have to dig into at west point. give 'em something light from conic sections first." cadet holmes sketched out, on the back of an envelope, the demonstration of a short problem. tom and harry looked on laughingly, at first. then their eyes began to open. "do you really have to dig up that sort of stuff at west point," demanded reade. "yes," nodded dick. "and now i'll show you another easy one, belonging to descriptive geometry." the two young engineers looked on and listened for a few moments. "stop!" commanded hazelton, at last. "my head is beginning to buzz!" "if that's the sort of gibberish you have to learn, i'm more than ever glad that i didn't go to west point," proclaimed reade. the old-time chums had eaten their fill of ice cream some time before, but they still sat about the table, chatting gayly. "there's one thing you never really told us about in your letters," muttered tom. "you wrote us that bert dodge had resigned from the military academy, but you didn't tell us why. now, that fellow, dodge, never gave up anything good that he didn't have to give up. was he kicked out of the academy?" "that story isn't known in gridley," replied prescott, lowering his voice. "dodge tells people that he left because he didn't like the crowd or the life there. we haven't changed the story any since our return. we'll tell you fellows, for we never used to have any secrets from you in the old days. but you mustn't pass the yarn around." "no," grimaced greg. "you mustn't tell the story around. dodge has threatened to have us imprisoned for life, for criminal libel, if we allow his secret to reach profane ears." "just why did dodge leave west point?" asked reade. "he was invited to," replied prescott, "by a class committee on honor." "i thought it was something like that," grunted reade. then, in low tones that could not be overheard by other patrons of the ice cream place, dick prescott told the story of dodge's cribbing at west point, and of the way that bert nearly succeeded in palming his guilt off on to prescott. "i'd believe every word of that yarn, even if a plumb stranger told it to me," declared hazelton. "it has all the earmarks of truth. it's a complete story of just what bert dodge would do in one form or another, in any walk of life." "but you fellows won't repeat insisted dick. "and thereby have us consigned to prison cells for the balance of our unworthy lives?" mocked greg. "you know us better than to think that we'd blab," retorted tom half indignantly. "you had a right to know, though," prescott went on. "dick & co. always were a close corporation," laughed hazelton. "and i hope the time will never come when we can't tell our secrets to each other." "i am sorry you fellows have so short a leave," murmured dick. "why, what would you want us to do!" queried tom. "greg and i would be tickled to death if you were going to be here all summer," dick answered. "in the first place, just for the sake of having your company. in the next place, we'd think it great if you could go back to west point with us when our furlough is over. if you could be there, over a saturday and a sunday, we'd have time to show you a lot about the life there. you'd feel acquainted from the start, for lots of the fellows of our class have heard about you. you'd get a great reception." "gridley must seem dull, after your life in the west," mused cadet holmes. "oh, i don't believe there's any place where you get excitement all the time," declared tom. "and there's no place so dull that it doesn't have a little excitement once in a while." bang! bang! bang! sounded several sharp explosions of firearms out in the street. "there's some, right now!" muttered greg, jumping up. "come along!" bang! bang! bang! as they ran forward toward the door of the ice cream place the young men saw people fleeing in frantic haste along main street. five or six of these fugitives darted into the ice cream place. as they did so, chief of police simmons backed into the same doorway. he had his revolver in his right hand, while he called back over his shoulder to the owner of the store: "granby, telephone the station for my reserves. the indians and cowboys of the wild west show are on a rampage, and shooting up gridley. tell sergeant cluny, from me, to bring the reserves on the run!" bang! bang! bang! up the street came a picturesque, dangerous looking group. three men in cowboy hats, flannel shirts and "chaps," with revolver holsters dangling from their belts, and each with a pair of automatic revolvers in his hands, came along. just behind this trio were two indians, painted and wearing gaudy blankets. the indian were armed like the cowboys. it was evident that all the members of the wild band were partially intoxicated. bang! bang! bang! "get back into the store, you young men!" ordered chief simmons crisply. "these heathen are pie-eyed and they'll shoot you up quicker than a flash!" "who, that lot of freaks?" demanded tom contemptuously. "dick! greg! indians are the specialty of the army. you go after the redskins, while harry and i tame these bad men!" like a flash, ere chief simmons could interfere, the four young men were off. straight up to the "raiders" dashed the former high school boys. one of the indians wheeled, firing a fusillade just over prescott's head. "oh, stop that noise!" ordered dick dryly. before the indian could guess it, prescott had leaped in, had grabbed the redskin by a famous old gridley football tackle and had sent the rampaging indian to the ground greg, equally reckless, floored the other indian and sat on his chest. tom reade made a bolt for the fiercest-looking cowboy. "stop spoiling the pure air on a hot day, and give me those guns!" commanded reade, going straight at the fellow. the big cowboy wheeled, aiming both weapons at reade. "get back!" ordered the shooter. "if ye don't i'll pump ye full of hole-makers! i'm bad! i'm a wolf, and this is my day to howl. i'm a wolf---d'ye catch that, partners?" "then back to the menagerie for yours!" muttered reade dryly. "and first of all fork those guns over. you're making the air smell of sulphur." "get back! i'm bad, i tell ye!" "you, bad; you cheap piute from rhode island!" sniffed tom contemptuously. reaching forward, quick as a flash, reade twisted a revolver from the fellow's left hand. "now, pass me the other," continued tom. "if you don't i'll wring that wooden head of yours from your neck! i'm coming, now!" having tossed the captured revolver in the street behind him, reade made a sudden leap at the "bad wolf." "hold on!" cried the fellow sheepishly. "don't get excited. here it is; take it!" seeing how readily their companion had surrendered, the other two headed hazelton's demand for their weapons. from the doorway chief simmons had looked on at this brief, bloodless battle like one dazed. from up and down main street at respectful distances, crowds of gridleyites gazed in stupefied wonder. "come on out, chief, and talk to these naughty boys!" called tom good-humoredly. "they didn't mean to be troublesome, but fourth of july had got into their blood." the police reserves came running up now. first of all, the revolvers of the five wild ones were gathered up. then the officers turned to the prisoners that had been captured by the west point cadets and the young engineers. "these fellows are only medicine-show cowboys," tom explained, with a grin, to the chief of police. "i know the real kind---and these sorry specimens are not it. probably these fellows have never been west of ohio." "you're an indian, i'm pretty sure," said cadet prescott to the painted redskin whom he now held by one arm. "but you're a tame indian. what part of maine do you come from?" "yes, i'm an indian," grinned dick's captive "i own a farm on the east end of long island." "humph! you've been through the pubic schools, too?" demanded dick. "yes, sir." greg's indian was quite as docile. the police now had the weapons of all the party, except one automatic weapon that greg was examining. "yah!" grinned holmes. "this gun is loaded with blank cartridges. i guess all the others were, too." the guess was a wholly correct one. by this time the main street crowd, wholly over its fright, was crowding about the police and their captives. "say, this seems like old times!" called sam foss, laughingly. "dick & co. right in the thick the excitement." "there hasn't been any," grinned prescott. at this instant a new actor arrived on the scene. wild charlie, the indian medicine "doctor," immaculate in black frock suit and patent leather shoes, with a handsome sombrero spread over the glistening black hair that hung down over his shoulders, rushed up. "let these people go, chief," begged the picturesque quack doctor. "i'll pay for any damage they've done." chief simmons looked the long-haired "doctor" over with a broad grin. "you're wild charlie, are you?" demanded the chief. "yes, partner." "what part of vermont do you come from! or is germany your hailing place, wild charlie?" "don't josh me too hard, chief," pleaded the medicine fakir "will you let my people go, if i settle?" "these terrors," retorted chief simmons, "are about due for thirty days for disturbing the peace." "but that would bust my summer season, chief," pleaded "wild charlie." "oh, don't run these innocents in, chief," urged tom reade. "they aren't really bad, and they admitted it as soon as we told 'em so. these people are not dangerous---only a bit nervous." "see here, wild charlie," grinned the chief of police, "i don't want to do anything to make you wilder. i'll let these human picture books go on condition that you take your show at once and clear on out of town." "i may just as well go," sighed the long-haired one. "this job has ruined my business here. and say, chief, won't you break the guns and knock the cartridges out, and then let me have the guns, too? they cost a lot of money!" but on this point chief simmons was firm. "no, sirree! you can take your infant terrors and load them on the first train away from here. but the revolvers are confiscated, wild charlie, and they'll stay here. you can try to recover the revolvers by a civil suit, if you want to risk it in court. otherwise, make your get-away as fast as you can. i'll admit that your outfit had the josh on me, and had me tickling the wire for the reserves. but just now the town holds two west point cadets, and two young engineers from the real west, which makes gridley no place to turn a vaudeville powder-play loose in." "wild charlie" and his band fled as fast as they could, for the crowd was jeering loudly and talking of taking all six to the nearest horse-trough for a ducking. "is that the best the old town can do for excitement in these days?" laughed reade, as soon as our young friends had separated themselves from the laughing crowd and had started on a stroll. "why, that little episode was doing well enough for any town," smiled dick. "a laugh is better than a fight, any day." "queer text for a soldier to preach from," grinned hazelton. "not a bit," dick retorted. "the soldier, above all men, hates a fight, for the soldier knows he's the only one that's likely to get hurt." "oho!" "yes; and moreover," broke in greg, "armies aren't organized, in the first place, for fighting, but for preserving peace." "just as railroads are built to keep people from traveling," jeered reade. "if we don't look out the greatest excitement that we'll find today will be starting a fight among ourselves," warned harry dryly. "rot!" scoffed tom. "the old chums of dick & co. couldn't fight each other, any more that they can avoid joshing each other." though none of the chums guessed it, excitement enough for two of them, possible, was brewing in another part of gridley at that moment. bert dodge was talking almost in whispers with a young fellow named fessenden, who had discharged from the bank in which bert's father was vice president. "you do my trick---put it through for me, fessenden---and i'll do my best with my father to get you back in the bank," bert promised. "even if i fail in that, i'll pay you well, in addition to the money i've just given you." "oh, it won't be a hard job to put through," nodded young fessenden, understandingly. "i can find two fellows who have nerve enough, and who will go into court and swear to anything i want them to." "that's the talk!" glowed young dodge. "you will testify that dick prescott was talking with you, and that he told innumerable lies to blacken my name that he libeled me!" chapter iv what about mr. cameron? one place that dick prescott made it a point to visit early in his furlough was the office of the morning "blade," for which paper, in his old high school days, the cadet had worked as a local reporter "on space." a "space writer" is one who is paid so much per column for all matter of his that is published in the paper. had it not been for the "blade" dick prescott would not have been as well supplied with pocket money as he had been during his high school days. everyone about the "blade" office, in the old days, had expected that prescott, at the end of his high school course, would join the "blade" staff as a "regular." but dick had had his own plans about west point, although he had kept his intentions a secret from nearly every one but his chums. early one bright june afternoon dick strolled into the "blade" office. "why, hullo, my boy!" cried editor pollock, jumping up out of his chair and coming forward, hand outstretched. bradley, the news editor, and len spencer, the "star" reporter, now growing comically fat, rushed forward to meet the cadet. "sit down, dick, and let's hear all about west point," urged mr. pollock, placing a chair beside his own, while the other members of the staff crowded about. "what sort of a place is west point, and how do you like it there?" dick smilingly gave them a lively account of life at the united states military academy. "i hope you're keeping track of all this, len," nodded the editor to reporter spencer. "tell us plenty more, too dick. we want to give you and holmes at least a bully two-column write-up." dick's cheery look suddenly changed to one of mild alarm. "do you want to do me a big favor, mr. pollock?" "anything up to a page, my boy, and you know it," replied the editor heartily. "we still regard you as one of the 'blade' family." "the favor i'm going to ask, mr. pollock, is that you don't give greg and myself a write-up." the editor looked so hurt that prescott made haste to add, earnestly: "please don't misunderstand me, mr. pollock. but you simply cannot imagine the trouble that a fine write-up in a home paper may make for a cadet. if i were a plebe, now, the upper classman would get hold of the write-up, somehow, and they'd make me read it aloud, at least a hundred times, while upper classmen stood about and congratulated me on being such a fine fellow as the paper described. as greg and i are now second classman, we couldn't be hazed in quite that way. but the other fellows would find some other way of using that home-paper write-up as a club for pounding us every now and then. mr. pollock, believe me, cadet is mighty lucky whose home paper doesn't say anything about him." "what is the matter?" asked the editor gravely. "are the other cadets jealous?" "no; it isn't that," prescott answered. "that sort of thing is done, at west point, to keep from getting the 'big head.' probably your memory goes back easily to the spanish war days. you will remember that mr. hobson, of the navy, sank the merrimac in the harbor at santiago, so that the spanish ships, when they got out, had to come out in single file. mr. hobson has a younger brother then at the military academy. well, the story still runs at west point that military cadet hobson was forced to read aloud all the best things about his brother in the navy that the other cadets could find in the newspapers. besides that, cadet hobson, so we are told today, had to 'sail' chips on a tub of water, at the same time bombarding the chips with pebbles and cheering for his brother. at west point it doesn't pay a cadet to be famous, even in the light of reflected glory. now, that is why i beg you, not to give greg and myself the write-up that you propose." "all right, then," sighed the editor. "on the other hand, mr. pollock, i'll tell you all manner of lively and printable facts about west point, if you won't mention greg or myself or even mention the fact that gridley has any cadets at the military academy." "that will have to answer," nodded mr. pollock. "but we wanted to do something big for you, dick." "and you'll be doing something very big for us, if you don't mention us at all," smiled prescott. so the "blade" had a good deal of interesting reading about west point the next morning. many gridleyites were not satisfied because neither prescott nor holmes was mentioned in connection with the military academy. the second time that mr. pollock met his former reporter was on the street. "i've been kicking myself, dick, because i forgot something the other day," declared the editor. "i have one of the nicest, gentlest little trotting mares in this part of the state, and a very comfortable light buggy with top and side curtains. i hardly ever use the rig in hot weather. now, won't you often have use for a horse and buggy while you're at home? if so, just ring up getchel's livery at any time, day or night, and tell 'em to hitch up against your coming. will you?" dick tried hard to find words in which to thank mr. pollock for the generous offer. first of all, prescott took holmes out driving, one forenoon, to "try out" the mare. the little animal proved speedy but tractable---a wholly safe driving horse. "i'm not a betting man," quoth greg, "but i'll lay a wager that i can guess who gets the next drive behind this horse. "post your wager," laughed dick gayly. "lau-----" "wrong! my mother gets the next drive." and so she did, that same afternoon. but the following afternoon prescott, after a good deal of attention to his personal appearance, walked to getchel's and drove away from there behind the mare. the next stop was at the house of dr. bentley. yet, when cadet prescott caught his first glimpse of the broad, cool veranda of the doctor's house, the young man felt a sudden throb of the heart. another young man---he looked to be somewhat under thirty---was seated in a big rocker, close to laura. both young people were laughing gayly before miss bentley caught sight of dick. "you're occupied, i see," called prescott lightly, though the tone cost him an effort. "come right up, dick," called laura, so the cadet leaped from the buggy, hitching the horse. the he turned into the broad walk and gained the veranda, where he was presented to mr. cameron. mr. cameron greeted the cadet pleasantly, yet didn't seem overjoyed at his presence. nor did mr. cameron seem in the least inclined to take himself away. usually most self-possessed, dick prescott fidgeted a trifle, and felt uncomfortable now. he wondered if good taste did not call for him to take himself away after a brief conversation. it was laura who finally came to the rescue. "dick," she laughed, "there's something on your mind. i'm afraid i shall have to help you out. did you come to ask me to go driving?" "yes," dick nodded. "but of course i realize that some other time will be better." "oh, don't let me spoil fun," begged mr. cameron, half rising, as though hoping to be asked to seat himself again. "mr. cameron," miss bentley replied sweetly, rising also as her caller completed the act of getting upon his feet, "i know you will excuse me now, rude as it seems in me to ask it. but mr. prescott's time in gridley is very limited, and we are all anxious to see as much of him as possible." "say no more, miss bentley," begged mr. cameron, forcing a genial smile. "mr. prescott, i congratulate you on having such a good champion. good afternoon, laura. good afternoon, mr. prescott; i am very glad indeed to have had the pleasure of meeting you." "i am most happy to have met you, sir; if it were not for my own great good fortune, and my natural selfishness, i would feel most regretful over being the means of distracting miss bentley's attention." laura, as soon as she had extended her hand to mr. cameron, had run inside to get her hat. by the time that mr. cameron had reached the front gate laura came out again, adjusting a wonderfully becoming bit of headgear. "i am almost ashamed of myself for having spoiled another's call," prescott told her. "oh, don't mind about mr. cameron," laughed laura lightly. "he has plenty opportunity, if he enjoys it, to call at other seasons of the year." "oh! does he?" muttered dick. he began to feel a most unwarrantable dislike for mr. cameron. chapter v along a "dangerous" road "oh, yes," smiled laura. "mr. cameron is a frequent visitor." this information had the effect of making prescott almost feel that he would enjoy kicking that other young man. "you are old friends, then?" he asked lightly, as he tucked the thin carriage robe about laura, then picked up the lines. "no; quite recent acquaintances. we met about four months ago, i think it was." though she spoke with apparent indifference, prescott covertly caught sight of a slight flush rising to the girl's face. "after all," muttered dick inwardly, "why not? laura isn't a schoolgirl any longer, and it certainly most be difficult for any young man who has the chance to call to keep away from her!" so cadet prescott tried to persuade himself that it was all very natural for mr. cameron to call and for laura to be glad to see mr. cameron. dick even tried to feel glad that laura was receiving attentions---but the effort ended in secret failure. then dick, as he drove along, tried to tell himself that he didn't care, and that he hadn't any right to care---but in this also he fell short of success with himself. so he fell silent, without intending to. laura, on her part, tried to make up for his silence by chatting pleasantly, but after a while she, too, found herself out of words. then, for a mile, they drove along almost in complete silence. yet cadet prescott found plenty of chance to eye her covertly. what he saw was a beautiful girl, so sweet and wholesome looking that he had hard work, indeed, to keep ardent words from rushing to his lips. "she grows sweeter and finer all the time," he muttered to himself. "why shouldn't men be eager to call, often and long?" at last the mare stumbled slightly, and prescott jerked the animal so quickly and almost savagely on the lines that miss bentley looked at him with something of a start. "dick," spoke laura at last, turning and looking him frankly, sweetly in the eyes, "have i done anything to offend you?" "you, laura?" "i wondered," she continued. "you have been so very silent." "i am afraid i was thinking," muttered dick. "and that's a very rude thing to do when it makes one seem to ignore the lady who is with him," he added, forcing a smile. "i beg your pardon, laura, ten times over." "oh, i don't mind your being abstracted," she answered simply, "so long as i am not the cause of it." "you-----" dick checked himself quickly. he had been right on the point of admitting that she had been the cause of his abstraction, and such a statement as that would have called for an abundance of further explanation. so he forced himself into a peal of laughter that sounded nearly natural. "if i were to tell you what a ridiculous thing i was thinking about, laura!" he chuckled. then his west point training against all forms of deceit led him to wondering, at once, whether mr. cameron could truthfully be defined as "a ridiculous thing." "tell me," smiled the girl patiently. "not i," defied prescott gayly. "then you would find me more ridiculous than the thing about which i was thinking." "oh!" she replied, and the cadet fancied that his companion spoke in a tone of more or less hurt. but, at least, dick could look straight into her face now, as they talked, and every instant he realized more and more keenly how lovely miss bentley was growing to be. they were driving down sweet-scented country lanes now. the whole scene fitted romance. the cadet remembered flirtation walk, at west point, and it struck him that there was danger, at the present moment, of flirtation drive. "i wonder what the dear girl is thinking about at this present moment?" pondered dick. "i wonder what it was that made him so abstracted, and then so suddenly merry?" was the thought in miss bentley's mind. "that was a very pretty road we came through before we turned into this one," commented dick at a hazard. "i didn't notice it," replied laura. "where are we now? oh, yes! i know the locality now." "you have driven out here before---with mr. cameron?" the words were out ere cadet prescott could recall them. he felt indescribably angry with himself. in the first place, the question he had asked was really none of his business. in the second place, his inquiry, under the circumstances, was a rude one. "mr. cameron was in the party," laura replied readily. "there was quite a number of us; it was a 'bus ride one may afternoon. we came out to gather wild flowers." "if i had the right," flamed up within the cadet, "i'd soon make mr. cameron my business, or else i'd be some of his. but it wouldn't be fair. i'm not through west point yet, and i may never be. until my future is fairly assured i'm not going to ask the sweetest girl on earth to commit her future to my hands. even if i felt that i could, a cadet is forbidden to marry and a two years' engagement is a fearfully long one to ask of a girl. and a girl like laura has a chance to meet hundreds of more satisfactory fellows than i in two years." it required all the young soldier's will power to keep silent on the one subject uppermost in his mind. and even dick realized that some very trivial circumstance was likely to unseat his firm resolve. what he was trying to act up to was his sense of fairness. hard as it was under the circumstances, he was more anxious to be fair to this girl than to any other living being. "i mustn't spoil her afternoon, just because my own mind is so dizzy!" he thought reproachfully. so, a moment later, he became merrier than ever---on the surface. it was laura's turn to take a covert look at his face. she wondered, for she felt that prescott's assumed gayety had an almost feverish note. "how much further are you going to drive?" she asked presently. "the only pleasure i recognize in the matter, laura, is yours. so i am wholly at your command." he tried to answer lightly and gallantly, yet felt, an instant later, that his words had had a strained sound. the same thought had struck the girl. yet, instead of asking him to turn the horse's head about, laura ventured: "gridley must be pleasant, as your home town, yet i fancy you are already looking forward to getting back to your ideals at west point?" "is she tired of having me around?" wondered cadet prescott, wincing within, as though he had been stabbed. "i'm keener for west point, every day, laura," he answered quietly. "yet, even in the case of such a grand old place as the military academy, it is worth while to get away once in a while. if it were not for this long furlough, midway in the four years' course, many of us might go mad with the incessant grind." "oh, you poor dick!" cried laura bentley, in quick, genuine sympathy. "yes; i think i can quite understand what you say." and then a new light came into her eyes, as she added, very softly: "we in gridley, who hope for you with your own intensity of longings, must take every pains to make this furlough of yours restful enough and full enough of happiness to send you back to west point with redoubled strength for the grind." "the same laura as of yesterday!" cried dick with sincere enthusiasm. "always wondering how to make life a little sweeter for others!" "thank you," she half bowed quietly. "yes; i want to see your strength proven among strong men." again she looked frankly into prescott's eyes, and he, at the same moment, into hers. his pulses were bounding. what was to become, now, of his resolution to hold back the surging words for at least two more years? yet resolutely he stifled the feelings that surged within him. he was a boy, though the training at west point was swiftly making him over into a man. "i may lose her," groaned cadet prescott. "i may have lost her already---if i ever had any chance. but a soldier has at least his honor to think of, and no honorable man can ask a woman to give herself to him, and to wait for years, when he isn't reasonably certain he is going to be able to meet the responsibility that he seeks." never had prescott been more earnest, more serious, nor more attentive than during the remainder of that drive. yet he studiously refrained from giving the girl any hint of the thoughts that were surging within him. was he foolish? dick felt, anyway, that he was not, for he was waging a mighty fight to stand by his best sense of honor. chapter vi the surprise the lawyer had in store the days went by swiftly, merrily. dick continued to see all that was possible of laura bentley, without seeming to try to monopolize her time. as for careless, good-humored, nearly heart-free greg, that young man divided his time almost impartially among several very pretty girls. cadet holmes had no thought of arousing baseless hopes in any young woman's mind. he simply had not yet reached the age when he was likely to be tied closely by any girl's bright-hued ribbons. tom reade and harry hazelton were much with the young west pointers. had dave darrin and dan dalzell been able to be home from annapolis at this time, the cup of joy would have been full for all the old chums of dick & co. but that was not to be. even reade and hazelton were home only on limited leave, for they were still very young engineers, who could not sacrifice much time away from their work lest they lose the ground already gained. so just after the fourth of july, tom and harry left, on a morning train, the two young west pointers going to the station to see them off with many a handshake, many a yearning wish for the two dear old chums of former days. "the blamed old town will seem a bit empty, won't it?" demanded greg, as the cadet pair strolled back from the railway station. "what'll it be in after years," sighed dick, "with you up at some fort on the great lakes, say, with me in boston, tom and harry somewhere out west, with dave on the european station and dan, perhaps, on the china station? oh, well, chums who want to stick together through life should go in for jobs in the same factory!" "i suppose we'll get more used to being apart, as the years roll on," muttered greg. "but i know it would be mighty jolly, this summer, if all the fellows of dick & co. could be here in gridley." "there's bert dodge," whispered prescott. "it was hardly worth the trouble to tell me anything about him," retorted holmes, not taking the trouble to look at their ancient enemy. "but what a scowl the fellow is wearing," smiled dick, half in amusement. "scowling is his highest pleasure in life," returned greg. "he looked at me," continued dick, as though he had discovered some new reason for hating me." "if he knew how little thought you gave to him he wouldn't really take the trouble to hate you. dodge has far more reason to dislike himself. where are you heading now?" "home and to the store," replied dick. "i just saw the postman leaving. come along." as dick and his chum entered, both his father and mother were behind the counter. "dr. davidson and his wife are in the back room," announced mrs. prescott. "they would like to see you, dick." "oh, your new pastor and his wife? will you excuse me, and wait for me a few minutes, greg?" asked dick. holmes, nodding, picked up a magazine and seated himself. it was twenty minutes ere dick came out from that back room. then the chums started out for another stroll. "where are you going now?" asked greg, suddenly, realizing that his chum was walking at an almost spurting gait. "in looking over my mail," replied dick grimly, "i found a letter from lawyer griffin." "what does he want, you don't owe any money, here or anywhere else." "griffin wrote me that he wanted to see me about a case that has been placed in his hands," replied prescott quietly. greg started, then changed color. "dick," he demanded, "do you know what the lawyer's business is about?" "the lawyer's letter doesn't state any more than i have told you." "dick, that hound dodge must be up to some trick!" "i imagine that's the answer," replied cadet prescott quietly. "and you're going to see the lawyer?" "yes." "humph!" muttered greg. "i know what i'd do. i'd make the lawyer come to see me." "but i prefer going to his office." "right away?" "as soon as i can get there." "and you want me with you?" "most decidedly, greg. i don't care to go into the lawyer's office without a competent witness." "then i'm yours, old fellow." "i know that, greg." despite himself holmes began to feel decidedly uneasy. "what on earth can dodge be up to?" muttered greg. "he threatened a libel prosecution one day last month. can it be that he has found people who can be bribed to perjure themselves, and that he is going to make his hint good?" "it half looks that way," assented dick. "then may a plague seize the cur!" cried greg, vehemently. "why, if the fellow can buy other people into making out a case of libel against you-----" "i might be convicted, and that conviction would cut short my army career," replied prescott as quietly as ever. greg stopped short in his walk, staring aghast at his chum. "why, can dodge be scoundrel enough for that?" he gasped. "the best way to judge a man, like a horse, is by the record of his past performances," responded prescott as quietly as ever. "so that unutterable cur, since he couldn't remain in the army, is determined that you shan't, either! dick, old ramrod, i'm shaking all over with indignation and contempt, and you're as cool as an old colonel going under fire again for the thousandth time!" "if there's any real danger i guess i'd better remain cool," spoke prescott slowly, though there was a flash of fire in his eyes. "there's bert dodge again!" quivered holmes, glancing along the street. "hurry up! let's meet him. just on general principles one of us ought to thrash him, and i most joyously volunteer." "don't you do anything of the sort," begged dick quickly. "we don't want to make any matter worse. here's the building where griffin has his offices. come; we'll go up and see him." the two west pointers were soon in the lawyer's office. mr. griffin was disengaged, and saw the young men at once. this attorney was rather a new-comer in gridley. dick and greg met him for the first time. prescott rather liked the man's appearance. "do you want the whole affair discussed before your friend, mr. prescott?" demanded griffin. "by all means, sir," dick responded. "very good, then," replied the lawyer, who was still engaged in studying the faces of both cadets. then, while the two west pointers sat before him, their faces impassive, mr. griffin continued. "when i was retained on this case i was asked to put the whole matter before the grand jury at its next sitting. it is so very unusual, however, to have criminal cases against west point men that i insisted with my clients that i would not take a decisive step, mr. prescott, until i had first seen you." "thank you, sir," nodded cadet prescott. "in brief then," went on the lawyer, "mr. dodge and his son bert have placed a good deal of sworn evidence in my hands, and they have instructed me, prescott, to procure your indictment on a charge of uttering criminally libelous statements against bert dodge!" chapter vii prescott lays a powder trail greg holmes turned very white for an instant. then a flush rose to his face. he leaped to his feet, his hands clenched. "this is an infamous, outrageous, lying-----" "thank you, greg," prescott broke in coolly. "but will you let me question mr. griffin?" "yes," subsided greg, sinking back into his chair. "i don't know that i could say any more. it would be merely a change in the words." cadet prescott turned back to the lawyer. "mr. griffin, will you tell me why you sent for me?" "because," replied the man of law, "i have some knowledge of the average west point material. frankly, i couldn't wholly credit this charge against you. i wanted to see you and have a talk with you, and i so informed the elder dodge. unless you can satisfy me that this is a ridiculous case, or a wholly malicious prosecution, then i shall feel obliged, as a lawyer, to take up the charges with the district attorney, after which we shall proceed in the usual way. but, first of all, i want to have a talk with you." "that is very fair, sir," replied dick. "and i want to be fair," replied the lawyer with emphasis. "i want to make sure that i am not taking part in a case needlessly malicious, and one which, pushed to a needless conclusion, might rob the army of a valuable future officer." "i appreciate your courtesy and fairness, and i, thank you, sir," dick acknowledged. "now, mr. prescott, do you mind telling me, in a general way, at least, just what you have said to others about young dodge since you have been home on your furlough?" "i would rather, sir, tell you something else instead," replied cadet prescott, with the ghost of a smile. "you have some affidavits, mr. griffin---or, at least, you have some witnesses, and they have very likely furnished you with affidavits. the names of your witnesses, or of your most important witnesses, are fessenden, bettrick and deevers. fessenden was a bank clerk, discharged from the bank by the elder dodge. bettrick is a truck-driver, and deevers is---well, i understand he has no more important occupation than lounging about drinking places." "i am sorry that you know the names of my witnesses," replied lawyer griffin gravely. "i am beginning to be impressed with the idea that you know their names so readily because you recall having said something in their presence or hearing against young dodge." "that is hardly likely," replied dick, smiling coolly, "because i do not believe that i know either of the three young men by sight." "then why," demanded the attorney, eyeing the young west pointer keenly, "do you know so much about their occupations or lack of occupation? and why do you know that they are all young men?" "i will tell you," replied dick. "in the first place, you know dr. carter, do you not?" "yes." "he is a reputable physician, isn't he?" "i believe dr. carter to be a very honorable man." "do you know dr. davidson?" "i understand that he is one of the new pastors in town," admitted the lawyer. "you imagine he would make a creditable witness, don't you?" "jurors generally accept the testimony of a clergyman at its face value," replied attorney griffin. "down in one of the tenements of gridley," pursued prescott, rising and leaning one elbow upon the corner of the top of the lawyer's roll-top desk, "is a young man named peters. he is a mill hand who has been away from his work for weeks on account of illness. dr. carter has been attending him, probably without charging much if any fee. last night peters had a small boy rush out and telephone in haste for dr. carter. as it happened, the physician was at his office, and answered quickly. after dr. carter had been in peters's room, perhaps a minute, the physician hurried out into the street, stopping the first man whom he met. that man happened to be dr. davidson. the two men returned to peters's room. now, all three of them listened." lawyer griffin was eyeing prescott curiously. "yesterday afternoon," continued dick, changing the subject with seeming abruptness, "fessenden, bettrick and deevers were all here, and signed affidavits before a clerk of yours, who is a notary public." "proceed," requested mr. griffin, without either denying or admitting the truth of dick's statement. "since he lost his bank position," dick went on, "fessenden has been compelled to live in a wretched room next to that occupied by the sick man peters. two nights ago, as you will remember, there was a heavy rain. now, the roof leaked at that tenement house, and the dripping water washed away some of the plaster covering the none-too-thick partition between the room of fessenden and the room of peters. so our sick man heard much of the conversation between fessenden and the fellow's confederates. now peters, the physician and the clergyman are all willing to swear to the statement that bert dodge hired fessenden, bettrick and deevers to testify against me. young dodge, according to the overheard conversation, met and drilled all three in their parts. that was before the three came here yesterday afternoon, with the dodges, and supplied you with the affidavits that you now hold. for this service, dodge is believed to have paid each young loafer the sum of twenty dollars, with a promise of eighty more apiece after they had told their tales in court. that, mr. griffin, is the other side of the story. bert dodge has deliberately hired three men to swear falsely against me." as he finished dick dropped carelessly back into the chair. he appeared wholly cool. not so greg holmes, whose face, during this recital, had been a study. now greg was upon his feet in a flash. "how long have you known this, old ramrod?" he demanded. "dr. davidson told me this, in the back room at the store, just before we came here," prescott replied. "and you never told me---didn't even give me a hint?" cried holmes reproachfully. "why, i thought i'd tell mr. griffin first," answered dick. "i have seldom heard anything that interested me more," admitted the lawyer. "yet, why didn't you bring dr. davidson and dr. carter here with you?" "one good reason," replied dick bluntly, "was that i didn't know anything about you, mr. griffin. i am glad to say that i have found you most fair minded. but, not knowing you, i wanted to see you and judge for myself whether there was any chance that you were in league with my enemies. had i made up my mind that you were anywhere nearly as bad as young dodge, i would have let this matter get as far as the courts, when i would have overwhelmed you all with charges of perjury, and would have proved my charges at least against bert dodge and his three tools." "mr. prescott, of course i don't mean to throw any doubt over the truth of what you have just told me. at the same time, as counsel for the dodges, i shall have to satisfy myself on these particulars. "do you know dr. carter's voice well?" asked prescott. "very well." "then kindly allow me to use your telephone." pulling the desk instrument toward him, and hailing central, dick called for "33 main." "hello, is dr. carter in," called dick after a moment. "this is prescott. do you recognize my voice? very good, sir; will you now talk with lawyer griffin, who is beside me, and tell him what you heard last night in the room of one peters? here is dr. cater waiting for you mr. griffin." lawyer and physician talked together for some minutes, the attorney's excitement increasing. greg, in the meantime, was executing a silent jig over near the door of the room. "now, you can call up dr. davidson," suggested cadet prescott. "i don't need to," replied the lawyer. "dr. carter has substantiated all that you told me, and has informed me that dr. davidson is ready to be called upon for the same information. instead, i shall call upon some one else." an instant later the attorney called up another number. "hello," he said presently. "connect me with mr. dodge. hello, is that you, mr. dodge? can you reach your son readily? oh, he is there at the bank with you, is he? this is mr. griffin. i shall expect you both at my office within five minutes. yes; about the prescott matter. no; i can't tell you over the 'phone. both of you come here. goodbye!" as though to wind up the conversation abruptly, lawyer griffin rang off and hung the receiver on its hook. "now, we'll wait and here the other side," remarked the lawyer grimly. "if the other side dares make its voice heard!" laughed cadet dick prescott. there being now no need of silence, greg holmes relieved himself of some noisy enthusiasm. chapter viii a father's just wrath strikes a very few minutes later a knock sounded at the door. then bert dodge entered very abruptly, his tongue starting with the turning off the knob. "well, have you seen the mucker prescott?" called bert airily. "was he scared to-----" here bert caught sight of the two west pointers and stopped short, while his father entered behind him. "no," broke in holmes, dryly, "prescott wasn't even scared silly." "oh, you shut up, you two!" growled bert. "mr. griffin, what are these pieces of airy nothing doing here?" "that advice about preserving silence will very well apply to you, also, mr. bert dodge," rejoined the lawyer. "take a seat in the background, please. i want to talk with your father." "what's the matters" demanded bert, not taking a seat, but advancing and leaning against the top of the lawyer's desk. "has this fellow won you over with a lot of his smooth talk?" "mr. griffin i warned you that prescott is a most accomplished liar." instead of flaring up at this insult, dick merely turned to exchange amused smiles with holmes. at this moment the attorney was paying no heed to bert, but was placing a chair courteously for the elder dodge. "now, mr. dodge," began the lawyer, speaking rapidly and paying heed only to the father, "i am very glad that i insisted on seeing mr. prescott before going further in the case that you placed with me. i expected only a denial. i have, instead, been astounded. now, listen, sir, while i tell you the all but incredible story." thereupon lawyer griffin launched into a swift narration of the story told by dick prescott and dr. carter. as soon as bert dodge began to get wind of what it was all about, his face became ghastly. "stop right here, griffin!" commanded bert. "this is all a tissue of lies that have been sprung upon you." "silence, young man!" commanded the lawyer sternly. "this talk is between your father and myself. as for you, young man, remember to what you have sworn, and bear in mind that the upshot of it all for you may yet be a term of years in the penitentiary." as the lawyer went on talking there could not be a moment's suspicion that the elder dodge had been concerned in the plot of perjury. mr. dodge had been guilty only of believing his son and of sharing the latter's feigned indignation. "now, dr. carter has confirmed all of this over the 'phone, and he assured me that dr. davidson stood ready to add his testimony," wound up lawyer griffin. "mr. dodge, what is to be done?" "why," stammered bert's father, "we---we shall have to drop the whole case." "what?" raged bert, his face going purple with anger. "drop the case on any such stacked-up mess of lies? father, are you losing all the nerve you ever had?" "young man," broke in lawyer griffin severely, "you do not appear to have the slightest idea of values. i do not for a moment imagine that your father will go any further in this matter. if he does, it will be necessary for him to get another attorney." "why!" challenged bert, glaring at the lawyer. "because the outcome of this case, if it reached court, would be your indictment for conspiracy and the subornation of perjury. the latter is one of the most heinous crimes known to the law." "but i tell you this is all a tissue of lies trumped up against me!" stormed young dodge. while this conversation was going on dick and greg remained silent in their seats. they had no need to talk. they were enjoying it all too much just as it was going. "do you expect, dodge, that a court and a jury would take your unsupported word against the testimony of two such men as dr. carter and the rev. mr. davidson? do you imagine, for a moment, that fessenden and your other tools wouldn't become utterly frightened and confess to everything against you? do you imagine that anything you could do or say would save you, dodge, from going to the penitentiary for ten or fifteen years?" the attorney's cool, incisive manner brought bert dodge to his senses. a deathly fear assailed him. his knees began to shake. "the case is too well fixed against me," he replied hoarsely. "ye---es, i guess you had better drop it all." the elder dodge now sprang to his feet. "drop it, you young scoundrel?" he yelled at his son. "why did you ever drag me into any such infamous piece of business? i went into this believing that you told me the truth." "i---i did, sir," stammered bert. "bah, you are a perjurer, you young villain!" raged his father. "griffin, this matter cannot go a step further. you will destroy those miserable affidavits before my eyes!" "i am sorry, mr. dodge," replied the lawyer, "but i am not at liberty to do that." "you can't destroy the affidavits?" howled bert, his voice breaking. "why not! aren't you our lawyer?" "i am even more an officer of the court than i am anyone's attorney," replied mr. griffin gravely. "a lawyer has no right to conceal a crime when he knows one has been committed not even to save his own clients." "wh---what do you propose to do, griffins?" demanded the elder dodge, shaking. "why, i hope to save your worthless son from prosecution, mr. dodge," returned the lawyer. "but a crime has been committed, in that your son procured others to swear to false affidavits true, the affidavits have not yet been presented in court, and on that i base my hope that the matter will not have to go further. but i feel in honor bound to submit the facts to the district attorney, and to be governed by his instructions." "you are going to try to send me to jail?" gasped dodge, clutching at the ledge of a bookcase to save himself from falling. "i am going to try to persuade the district attorney to let the matter drop," replied griffin. "it will be the district attorney's decision that will govern the matter." "then what are you doing fooling around here, governor?" screamed bert hoarsely. "don't you see that it's your job to hurry to the district attorney as fast as you can go? use your money, your political influence---" in his extreme terror young dodge seemed to forget that he was providing amusement for his enemies. but mr. dodge cut in quickly. advancing a step or two, he brought his uplifted stick down sharply, once, across his son's shoulders. with a snarl bert wheeled, crouching as though to spring upon his father. prescott and holmes jumped up, prepared to step in. but the banker was not cowed by the evil look in his son's face. "begone, you young villain!" quivered the old man. "get out of my sight. never let me see you again. don't dare to go to what was once your home, or i'll have you thrown out. i disown you! you are no blood of mine!" "i guess you forget," sneered bert cunningly that you are responsible for me, and that you will have to pay my bills." "not a penny of them," retorted the banker sternly. "it is you who forget that you reached the age of twenty-one just three days ago. you are your own master, sir---and your own provider! now, go---and never again let any of your family hear from the scoundrel who has disgraced us all." vainly bert opened his mouth, trying to speak. the words would not come. his father again advancing threateningly, bert edged towards the door. "this looks like your fun, as it is your work, dick prescott!" snarled the wretch. "wait! if it takes me ten years i'll make you suffer for this!" crash! mr. dodge had again raised his cane to strike the young man. but bert had pulled open the door, closing it after him as he fled, and only the plate-glass panel stopped the fall of the cane. "i'll pay for the damage done to your door griffin," promised the banker. "don't worry about that, sir," nodded the attorney. "i feel that we've been here long enough, gentlemen," broke in cadet prescott, as he and greg rose. "mr. dodge, i can't begin to tell you how sorry i am that this scene was necessary." "i feel sure of your sympathy. prescott, and of yours, too, holmes. thank you both," replied the banker. "you are both fine, manly young fellows. i wish i had been favored with a son like either of you. now, i have no son!" dick and greg got away as unobtrusively as they could. bert dodge did try to go home to see his mother, but, by his father's orders, he was put out of the house by two men servants. immediately after that bert vanished from gridley. at first he tried the effect of writing whining, penitent, begging letters home. receiving no replies, bert finally drifted off into the space of the wide world. later on in the course of these chronicles he may reappear. lawyer griffin consulted with the district attorney, and it was decided not to make perjury cases out of the affair. fessenden, bettrick and deevers, however, were all three warned and the district attorney filed away the lying affidavits, in case a use for them should ever come up. by degrees the story of bert dodge's latest infamy leaked out. the news, however, did not come through any word spread by either of our young west pointers. chapter ix back to the good, gray life a glorious summer it was for the two second classman on furlough! yet, like all other things, good and otherwise, it had to come to an end. one morning near the end of august, dick and greg, attended by a numerous concourse of friends, went to the railway station. the proud parents were there, of course, and so were the parents of dave darrin and dan dalzell, the latter happy in the knowledge that their boys would soon be home for the brief september leave from the united states naval academy at annapolis. "why, you haven't seen dave since you youngsters all left home, have you, dick?" asked mr. darrin. "no, sir. greg and i hoped to, this last summer, when the army baseball nine went down to annapolis and defeated the navy nine," dick replied. "but both greg and i found ourselves so hard pressed in our academic work that we didn't dare go, but remained behind and boned hard at our studies." "you don't forget the fact that the army nine did defeat the navy nine, do you?" laughed dan's father. "no, sir; of course not," smiled dick. "the army and navy teams exist mainly for the purpose of beating each other. i am glad to say that the army manages to win more than its share of games." "that's because the west point boys average a little older than the annapolis boys," broke in mrs. dalzell pleasantly, though warmly. even she, as the mother of a midshipman, felt her share in the rivalry between the nation's two great service schools. "you will bring laura and belle up to some of the hops this winter, i hope, mrs. bentley," dick begged. "oh, she's pledged to take us to west point, and to annapolis," broke in belle meade, smiling. "you don't think we are going to lose the hops at either academy while we have friends there, do you?" "i should hope not," dick replied earnestly. five minutes before train time leonard cameron appeared. he greeted the two cadets with great cordiality. "i couldn't help coming to see you off, prescott," cameron found chance to say in an undertone. "laura is so deeply interested in your success that i, too, am longing to hear every possible good word as to your future career. laura couldn't be more interested in you if she were truly your sister." that was the sting that made dick's going away bitter. cameron's manner was so easy and assured that dick saw the crumbling of one of his more than half built castles in spain. the train carried the two cadets away. the parents of both young men had seen to it that the cadets went away in a parlor car. dick and greg, after leaving gridley behind, swung their chairs around so that, while they looked out of the window, their heads were close together. "cameron had a nerve to show up, didn't hey" demanded greg indignantly. "i don't know," dick replied very quietly. "he tried to be very kind and cordial." "shucks!" uttered greg, disgustedly. "doesn't he know that laura bentley is your girl, and that he's only a b.j. hanger-on there?" "i'm afraid laura herself doesn't know that she's my girl," sighed dick. cadet holmes swung about so that he could gaze straight into his comrade's face. "dick, didn't you tell her?" demanded greg aghast. "you have to do something more than tell a girl," smiled prescott patiently, though wearily. "you have to ask her." "well, thunder and bomb-shells, didn't you?" "i didn't, greg." "oh, pardon me, old ramrod. i don't mean to pry into your affairs-----" "i know you don't." "-----but i thought you were deeply interested in laura bentley." "i think i am, greg. in fact, i'm sure i am." "then why-----" "greg, i'm not yet sure of my place in life. i'm not going to ask any girl to tie her future up in my plans until i feel that i have a fair start in life." "army officer's pay is enough for any sensible girl." "i'm not an army officer yet." "oh, rot! you're going to be! you're half way through west point now. you're past the harder half, and you stand well enough in your class. you're sure to graduate and get into the army." "greg, within ten days of getting back to west point i may be injured in some cavalry, or other drill, and become useless for life. a cadet hurt even in the line of duty gets no pension, no retired pay. if he is a wreck, he is merely shipped home for his folks to take care of him. when i graduate, and get my commission in the army, it will be different. then i'll have a salary guaranteed me for life; if i am injured, and become useless in the army, i still have retired pay enough to take care of a family. if i am killed my wife could draw nearly pension enough to support her. all these things belong to the army officer and his wife. but the cadet has nothing coming to him if he fails, for any reason, to get through." "well, cadets don't marry," observed greg. "they're forbidden to. but a cadet can have things understood with his girl. then, if he fails to make the army, or to get something else suitable in life, he can release the girl if she wants to be released." "but if a girl considers herself as good as engaged to a cadet she lets other good chances go by, and the cadet may never be able to make good," objected dick. "it's good of you to be so thoughtful for that fellow cameron," jibed greg. "i'm not thoughtful for him, but for laura," retorted prescott staunchly. "confound it," growled greg to himself, "dick is such a stickler for the girl's rights that he is likely to break her heart. hanged if i don't try to set laura straight myself, when i see her! no; i won't either, though. dick would never forgive me if i butted into his own dearest affairs." "i know, greg," prescott pursued presently, "that some of the fellows do become engaged to, girls while still at the military academy. but becoming engaged to marry a girl is a mighty serious thing." "then i'm in for it," muttered holmes soberly. "i'm engaged to the third girl." "what?" gasped his chum incredulously. "you engaged to three girls?" "oh, only one at a time," greg assured his comrade. "the first two girls, each in turn, asked to be released, after we'd been engaged for a while. so, now, i'm engaged to my third girl." holmes spoke seriously, and with evident truth. dick leaned back, staring curiously at his chum, though he did not ask the latest girl's name. "at least, i was engaged, at latest accounts," greg went on, after a few moments. "by the time i reach west point, just as likely as not, i'll get a letter asking me to consider the matter as past history only." "greg, greg!" muttered prescott, shaking his head gravely. "i'm afraid you're not very constant. "i?" retorted cadet holmes indignantly. "dick, you're harboring the wrong idea. it's the girls who are not constant. though they were all nice little bits of femininity," greg added reminiscently in a tone of regret. late in the afternoon the chums arrived in new york. after putting up at a hotel they had time for dinner and a stroll. "somehow, i don't feel very sporty tonight," sighed cadet holmes, as they waited, at table, for the evening meal to be served. "yet, in a week, i suppose i'll be kicking myself. for tomorrow we're due to get back into our gray habits and re-enter the military convent life up the river." after a late supper and a short night's rest, the two young men found themselves, the morning following, on a steamboat bound up the hudson river. "after all these weeks of good times," muttered greg, "it doesn't seem quite real." "it will, in a couple of hours," predicted prescott, smiling. "and, now that home is so far behind, i'm really delighted to think that i'll soon be back in gray old barracks, donning the same old gray uniform." "oh, it will be all right. there are a lot of fellows that i'm eager to see" greg admitted. "is the---er---er-----" "out with it!" "is miss number three likely to be at the point when we get there?" "i don't know," holmes admitted. "i haven't heard from her in four days. i hope she'll be there." all in due time the two cadets worked their way forward on the boat. now they encountered nearly a dozen other members of their class, all returning. yet none of the dozen were among their warmest friends in class life. "look, fellows!" cried dick at last. "there's just a glimpse of some of the high spots of west point through the trees!" it was all well enough for the cadets to claim that the life at west point was a fearfully hard and dull grind, and that they were little better than cadet slaves. as they picked out, one after another, familiar glimpses of west point, these young men became mostly silent, though their eyes gleamed eagerly. they loved the good old gray academy! they rejoiced to find themselves so near, and going back! then at last the boat touched at the pier. some moments before the gangplank was run aboard from the wharf everyone of the more than dozen cadets had already leaped ashore. "whoop!" yelled greg, tossing his hat in the air. "mr. holmes!" growled cadet dennison with mock severity. "report yourself for unmilitary enthusiasm!" "yes, sir," responded greg meekly, saluting: his fellow classman. "fall in!" yelled dennison. "where?" inquired dick innocently. "in the hudson? i decline, sir, to obey an illegal order." amid a good deal of laughter the returning cadets trudged across the road, over the railroad tracks and on up the steep slope that led to the administration building. across the inner court of the administration building walked the second classman briskly, and on up the stairs. there was no more laughter. even the talking was in most subdued tones, for these young men were going back to duty---military duty at that! in one of the outer offices on the second floor the cadets left their suit cases. dick, being one of those in the lead, stepped into the adjutant's room, brought his heels together, and in the position of the soldier, saluted. "sir, i report my return to duty at the military academy." "very good, mr. prescott. report to the special officer in charge at the cadet guard house, and receive your assignment to your room. the special officer in charge will give you any further immediate orders that may be necessary." again saluting, prescott wheeled with military precision and left the adjutant's office. as he was going out dick was passed by greg coming in. for a moment prescott waited outside until greg had joined him. "it would be a howling mess if we didn't have a room together this year, old ramrod, wouldn't it?" muttered cadet holmes as soon as they were clear of the administration building. "oh, that isn't one of our likely troubles," dick answered. "we asked for a room together, and second classmen generally have what we want in that line." on reporting to the special officer in charge, the two chums found that they had been given quarters together. moreover, their room was one of the best assigned to second classman, and looked out over the plain and parade ground. "we ought to be jolly happy in here this year, old ramrod," predicted greg. "especially as we haven't any fellow like dodge in the class." "nor in the whole military academy," rejoined prescott. "i hope not," murmured cadet holmes thoughtfully. boys at boarding school would have needed at least the rest of the day to get themselves to rights. trained to soldierly habits, our two cadets had quickly dropped the furlough life. citizen clothes, in dress-suit cases, were deposited at the cadet store, and the two cadets, back in "spooniest" white duck trousers and gray fatigue blouses, were soon speeding along the roads that led across the plain to where the other three classes were having their last day of summer encampment. "greetings, old ramrod!" called a low but pleasant voice, as first classman brayton hurried up, grasping dick's hand. then greg came in for a hearty shake. brayton, who had been a cadet corporal when the two boys from gridley were plebes, now wore the imposing chevrons of a cadet captain. "my, but i'm glad to see you two idlers return to a fair measure of work," laughed another voice, and spurlock, whom dick, as a plebe, had thrashed, pushed his right hand into the ceremonies. spurlock, too, was a cadet captain. other first classmen crowded in for these returning furlough men were popular throughout the upper classes. "may a wee, small voice make itself heard?" dick and greg half wheeled to meet another comer. little briggs, a trifle less plump and correspondingly longer, stood before them, grinning almost sheepishly. "hullo, briggsy!" cried prescott, extending his hand, which the third classman took with unusual warmth. "being no longer a plebe, i enjoy the great pleasure able to address an upper classman before i'm addressed," went on briggs. "that's so, briggsy," affirmed greg. before going off on their furlough both had been compelled to regard briggs as an unfortunate plebe, with whom it was desirable to have as little to do as possible. then it had been "mr. briggs"; now it was "briggsy"; that much had the round little fellow gained by stepping up from the fourth class to the third. "have you found any b.j. beasts among the new plebes, briggsy!" dick wanted to know. "plenty of 'em," responded briggs with enthusiasm. "any that were b.j.-er than mr. briggs?" inquired greg. a shade annoyance crossed the new yearling's face. "i never was b.j., was i?" he murmured. "think!" returned dick dryly. "however, you're briggs, now, with all my heart---no longer 'mister.'" "we've had a busy, busy summer," murmured briggs, "licking the new beasts into shape." greg laughed heartily at memory of some of the hazing stunts through which he had once helped to rush briggs. furlong, griffin and dobbs, of the second class, hurried over to greet prescott and holmes. "where's anstey?" dick inquired. "not back yet, i'm sure," replied briggs. "oh, well, he'll be back before the day's over," dick went on confidently. "that youth from virginia is much too good a soldier to fail to report on time." soon after the instruction parties of the first, third and fourth classes came marching back into camp. it seemed, indeed, like old times, to see the fellows all rushing off to their tents to clean up and change uniforms before the dinner call sounded. then the call for dinner formation came. dick and greg fell in, in their old company, and marched away at the old, swinging soldier tread. most of the afternoon the returned furlough men spent in their new rooms. during that afternoon anstey pounced in upon them. the virginian said little, as usual, but the length and fervor of the handclasp that he gave dick and greg was enough. with evening came the color-line entertainment. dick and anstey walked on the outskirts of the throng of visitors. cadet holmes, having discovered that the especial girl to whom he was at present betrothed was not at west point, played the casual gallant for a fair cousin of second classman mcdermott. the night went out in a blaze of color, illumination and fireworks just before taps. in the morning the cadet battalion marched back into barracks, and on the morning after that the daily grind began in the grim old academic building. cadets prescott and holmes were thus fairly started on their third year at west point. there was a tremendous grind ahead of them, the very grind was becoming vastly easier, two years of the hard life at west point taught them how to study. chapter x the scheme of the turnback "i must be getting back to my room," murmured anstey. "i haven't had a demerit so far this year, and i don't want to begin." "if you must go, all right," replied dick, though he added, with undoubted heartiness: "whether in or out of proper hours, anstey, your visits are always too short." "thank you, old man," replied the virginian gratefully. the time had worn along into october. during the first month of academic work, neither dick nor greg had stood as high in their class as they had wished. this is often the case with new second classmen, who have just returned from all the allurements and excitements of their furloughs. "are you studying very hard, anstey?" asked greg, turning around, as the virginian entered the door. "not very," drawled the virginian. "i never did like haste and rush. i'm satisfied if i get through. i did hope to stand high enough to get into the cavalry, but now i think i'm going to be pleased if i get the doughboy's white trousers stripe." the "doughboy" is an infantryman. "i think i'm going to find it all easy enough, now, after i once get my gait. thank goodness, we're past the daily math. grind." "we'll all find plenty of math. in its application to other studies," sighed prescott. "but what gets me is for an army officer to have to be roundly coached in philosophy, as regards sound and light." "and chemistry," groaned greg, "with heat, mineralogy, geology and electricity. and how the instructors can draw out on the points that a fellow hasn't been able to get through his head!" "don't!" begged the virginian. "it makes my temples throb. i've written mother, asking her to send me some headache powders. unless our third-year science instructors let up on us, i see myself eating headache powders like candy." as anstey turned the knob, and started to go out, another cadet, about to enter, pushed door open and stepped inside. "howdy fellows," was the greeting of the newcomer. "how do you do, haynes?" asked dick, though not over impressed by the newcomer. haynes was a former second classman, who, on account of illness in the latter half of his third year, had been allowed to "turn back" and join the new second class. it often happens that a "turnback" is not extremely popular with the new class that he joins. not less often does it happen that the turnback wonders at the comparative lack of esteem shown him. the reason, however, is very likely to be found in the fact that the turnback considers himself a mile or so above the new class members with whom circumstances have compelled him to cast his lot. it was so in this instance. haynes felt that he was, properly, a first classman. true, the members of the first class, which he had fallen behind, did not take that view of the case. "you fellows busy?" asked haynes, as he took a seat across the foot of prescott's cot bed. "oh, no more busy than cadets usually are," smiled dick pleasantly. "we are finding the new grind a hard one---that's all." "now, there's nothing very hard about the first half of the year in this class," replied haynes knowingly. "i've been through it you know." "you're lucky," rejoined greg. "we haven't been through it---yet." hayes, however, chose to regard what was meant as a slight hint. "don't bone too hard at this first-term stuff, fellows," he went on. "save your energies for the second half of the academic year." "i wonder whether we shall have any energies left by that time," replied greg, opening one of his text-books in philosophy with a force that made the cover bang against the desk. "oh, go ahead and bone 'sound,' then, if you want," permitted mr. haynes. "i'll talk to prescott. old ramrod, i haven't seen you at any of the hops this year." "haven't had a femme to drag," replied dick, as he picked up a sheet of notes and began to scan it. "why don't you turn pirate, then, as i do," yawned haynes, "and get the fellows to write you down on the cards they're making up for their femmes?" "i hadn't thought of that," replied dick. "i don't believe, when i have no femme to drag to the hops, that it would make me any more popular with the fellows, either. a fellow who pirates at all should drag a spoony femme pretty often himself." "why," asked hayes, opening his eyes rather wide, "are you boning bootlick with any but officers?" "boning bootlick" means to curry favor. occasionally a cadet who wants cadet honors resorts to "boning bootlick" with the tactical officers stationed at the academy. "i'm not boning bootlick with cadets or with officers either," retorted dick rather crisply. "i've never had the delight of wearing chevrons, you know." haynes flushed a trifle. the year before he had worn a sergeant's chevrons. this year, for some reason, he did not have the chevrons. "wearing chevrons isn't the only sign of bootlick," replied haynes. "is it one of them?" smiled prescott good-humoredly. again haynes flushed. he had meant to take down this new member of the second class, but found prescott's tongue too ready. "i don't know," replied haynes shortly. "i've never been one of the authorities on bootlick." "nor i, either," laughed prescott quietly. "so we won't be able to come to the point of any information on the subject, i'm afraid." greg, with his back turned to the visitor as he bent over the study desk, had been frowning for some time. holmes wanted to study; he knew how badly he needed the time. but haynes showed no sign of leaving the room. suddenly, holmes closed his book, perhaps with a trifle more noise than was necessary. "what you going to do, greg?" inquired his chum, as cadet holmes rose stiffly, holding himself very erect in his natty gray uniform. "i believe i'll get out for a while," replied greg. "i---i really want to think a little while." "oh, i'll go, if you say so," volunteered cadet haynes, though without offering to rise. "not necessary," replied greg briefly, and stepped over to the door, which he next closed---from the outside. "your roommate cocky?" asked haynes, with a short laugh. "holmes!" inquired dick. "one of the best fellows in the world." "guess he didn't want visitors, then," grinned: haynes. "he's a chump to bone hard all the time. really, prescott, you don't get any further with an excess of boning." "i always try to get as high in my class as i can," sighed dick. "true, that has never been extremely high yet. but a fellow wants to be well up, so he can spare a few numbers, in case anything happens, you know." "i'd just as soon be anywhere above the three fellows at the bottom of the glass," replied haynes, stifling another yawn. "well, i hope you at least attain to your ambitions in the matter," replied dick, regretfully eyeing two of his text-books that he wanted to dig into in turn. there was not a heap of study time left now, before the call came for supper formation. "my ambitions run along different lines," announced haynes. "along different lines than class standing?" inquired dick. "yes; if you mean the kind of class standing that comes from the academic board," went on haynes. "why, i didn't know there was any other kind, except standing in drill, and believe nearly all of the men here stand well in drill." "oh, there are some other kinds," pursued haynes. "personal standing, for instance?" "thank heaven personal standing is rather easily reached here," replied dick. "all a fellow has to do is to be courteous and honorable and his personal standing just about takes care of itself." "oh, there are some other little matters in personal standing. take the class presidency, prescott, for instance." "yes?" queried dick. "what about it?" "well, you've been president of your class for two years." "yes; thanks to the other fellows of the class." "now, prescott, do you intend to go right along keeping the presidency of the class?" "why, yes; if the fellows don't show me that they want a change." "maybe they do," murmured haynes. dick wheeled and regarded the turnback rather sharply. "you must mean something by that, haynes. what do you mean?" "are you willing to resign, if the class wants someone else?" "of course," replied prescott, with a snap. "i'm glad to hear you say that," murmured haynes. "see here, haynes, have you been sent here by any faction in the second class?" "no," admitted the turnback promptly. "have you heard any considerable expression of opinion on the subject of a new class president being desired." "no," admitted haynes, coloring somewhat under the close scrutiny of his comrade in the class and the corps. "you're speaking for yourself only?" "that's it," assented the turnback. "why don't you want me for class president?" cadet haynes looked a trifle disconcerted, but it was always dick's way to go openly and directly to the point in any matter. "why, perhaps i don't know just how to put it," replied haynes. "but see here, prescott, wouldn't it be better for any class---say the second class, for instance---to have a man as president who has been longer at the military academy than the other members of the class?" "do you mean," pursued dick relentlessly, "that you want to be elected president of the present second class, haynes?" "why, i think it would be a nice little courtesy from the class," admitted the turnback. "you see, prescott, you've held the honor now for two years." dick smiled, looking straight into the eyes of his visitor, but he made no other answer. "now, what do you think about it, prescott?" insisted the turnback. "i don't like to tell you, haynes." "but i wish you would." "you'd be offended." "no; i would---see here not trying to be offensive with me, are you?" "certainly not." "oh, that's all right then. go ahead and tell me what you think." "i was a good deal astonished," went on prescott, "when back in plebe days, the other fellows chose me for their president. i wasn't expecting it, and i didn't know what to make of it. but the fellows of the class gave me that great honor. i stand ready to step down from the honor at any time when the class feels that it would like another president." "i'd like the honor, prescott. but, of course, i didn't know that you held to it so earnestly. if you don't want to give it up, of course i'll go slow in asking you to do so. but i thought that both you and the class would appreciate having as president a man who has been longer at the military academy than any of the others." "if i were to resign the presidency," replied prescott bluntly, "i don't believe you'd stand a ghost of a show of getting it." cadet haynes sprang to his feet, cheeks crimson, his eyes flashing. "why not?" he insisted. "steady, now," urged dick. "don't take offence where none is meant, haynes. the class would want its president to be one who has been with the class all along, and who knows all its traditions. now, in experience, you're a first classman, and you've all the first-class traditions. now, if the class were dissatisfied with me, and wanted a new president, i'm pretty certain the fellows would choose someone who had been in our class from the start. now with you a turnback-----" haynes's flush deepened, and he took a step forward, his fists clenching. "prescott, do you use that word offensively?" "no," replied dick quietly. "do you intend your question or manner to be offensive?" "not unless you're trying to start it," sniffed the other cadet. "i'll tell you what i'll do, haynes," proposed dick pleasantly. "i can see your point of view---from your side. i don't believe it would be the view of the class. but, if you wish, i'll call a class meeting and lay the whole proposition before them." "you mean that you'll try out class feeling by resigning and suggesting me for your successor?" asked haynes eagerly. "no; i'll state the substance of our conversation this afternoon, and then you can say any thing you may have to say on the subject. then i will put it to the class whether they want me to resign so that you can be elected in my place." haynes turned several shades more red. "that would make a fool of me!" flashed the turnback. "it would be a statement of your own proposition, wouldn't it?" asked dick, with another smile. "stop your laughing at me, you-----" "careful!" warned dick, but he threw a lot of emphasis into the single word. "prescott," choked the turnback, "you're trying to make my idea and myself ridiculous!" "haven't i stated your proposition fairly?" challenged prescott. "you think that, because you are a turnback, you have more right than i to the class presidency. if that isn't your attitude, then i shall be glad to apologize." "oh, pshaw, there's no use in trying to make you see the matter with my eyes," muttered haynes in disgust. "i'm afraid not, haynes. if the fellows don't want me as president i would insist on resigning. but i am sure the class would rather have almost anyone than a turnback. i hope, however, there is no hard feeling?" prescott held out his right hand frankly. "i hope there will be, as you say, no hard feeling," mumbled haynes, accepting the proffered hand weakly. then the turnback left the room. down the corridor, however, he strode heavily, angrily, muttering to himself: "the conceited puppy!" chapter xi brayton makes a big appeal for a moment or two dick stood looking out of his window, across the far-stretching plain that included the parade ground and the athletic field. in the near distance the football squad was finishing up its practice in the last moments of daylight. brayton was captain of the army eleven, and was a good deal discouraged. "queer idea haynes had!" muttered dick to himself. then he turned back to his desk and to the neglected chapter on "sound" in natural philosophy. dick, however, was not fated to study much. first of all, back came greg, opening the door and looking in inquiringly. "haynes has gone, i see," murmured cadet holmes. "yes." "to stay away?" "i rather think so," nodded cadet prescott, without looking up from the pages of his textbook. "then there'll be some show for a poor, hard-working goat," muttered greg, closing the door behind him and falling into his chair. "the goat," at west point, is one who is in the lowest section or two of his class. greg was not yet a "goat," this year, though he lived in dread of becoming one. hearing a yell from the plain beyond, however, holmes went over to the window and looked out. "dick, old ramrod," exclaimed cadet holmes wistfully, "i wish we stood well enough to be out on the football grill." "so do i," muttered dick. "but what's the with the goat section overtaking us at double time?" greg sighed, then went back to his books. for fifteen or twenty minutes both young men read on, trying to fasten something of natural philosophy in their minds. now there came a quick knock, immediately after which the door was flung open and brayton marched in. "see here, you coldfeet," began the captain of the army eleven sternly, "what do you two mean by staying in here and boning dry facts?" "just to avoid being drowned in goat's milk," smiled dick, turning a page and looking up. brayton, regardless of these heroic efforts to study, threw one leg across the corner of the study table. "you two fellows came out, in the first work of the squad, and did stunts that filled us all with hope," pursued brayton severely. "then, suddenly, you failed to show up any more. and all this, despite the fact that we have the poorest eleven the army has shown in six years." "only men well up in their academic work are allowed to play on the eleven, replied dick. "you fellows are well enough up to make the team." "but we're nervous about our studies," rejoined prescott. "nervous about your studies!" cried brayton sharply. "yet not a whit anxious for the honor of the army that you hope to serve in all your lives. now, you fellows know, as well as any of us, that we don't much mind being walked over by a crack college eleven. but we want to beat the navy, year in and year out. why, fellows, this year the navy has one of the best elevens in its history. all the signs are that the middies are going to walk roughshod over us. and yet you two fellows, whom we need, are sulking in quarters, poring over books---nervous about your studies!" scorn rang in brayton's heavy tones. "if i really thought you needed me-----" began dick. "of course, if you did actually need two duffers like-----" broke in cadet holmes. "need you!" retorted brayton. "i'm almost ashamed to be sitting here with two such cold-blooded duffers. but do you know why i'm here? because lieutenant carney, our coach, told me to come here and actually beg you to turn out---if i had to beg. now, am i going to be submitted to that humiliation by two fellows i've always liked and considered my friends?" "is the football situation as bad as that?", asked dick seriously. "bad?" repeated brayton gloomily. "man, it's _rotten_! today is thursday. saturday we have to meet lehigh. that's a team we can usually beat. lieutenant carney is so blue that i believe he'd like to compromise by giving lehigh the game at a score of twelve to nothing! and the navy! think of the fun of having annapolis strutting around with the army scalp tied to an anchor!" "if you really mean what you've been saying," said dick slowly, "then we're going tomorrow afternoon. i'm taking the liberty of speaking for greg." "that's straight and correct," affirmed holmes hastily. "but i'm not sure, brayton, that you'll find us such bang-up material as you appear to think." "oh, bother that!" cried the football captain jubilantly. "i know what lieutenant carney can do with you. so, for the glory the army, then, you'll come out, after this, and stand by us for the rest of the season?" "for the glory of the army, if we have anything to do with it," cried dick heartily, "we'll 'fess' cold in every confounded study on the third-year list. for the glory of the army we'll consent to being 'found' and kicked out of the service!" "hear, hear!" came rousingly from cadet holmes. "fellows---thank you!" gasped brayton, grasping both their hands and shaking them hard. "lieutenant carney will be delighted. so will all the fellows. mr. carney has had a hard, up-hill time of it as couch this year. but now---!" there could be no question that brayton's joy was real. he was a keen judge of football material, and he had been deeply chagrined when dick and greg had withdrawn from the early training work of the squad. "it has been fearful work trying get the interest up this year," continued brayton with a reminiscent sigh. "so many good man have been dodging the squad! even haynes, who is the best we have at left end, ducked this afternoon. caesar's ghost may know what haynes was doing with his time---i don't. but i don't believe he was boning." prescott smiled quietly to himself as he recalled how cadet haynes had been employing his leisure in this very room. "well, i'm happy, and lieutenant carney will be," muttered brayton, turning to go. "a whole lot of us will feel easier." "any idea where you'll try to play us?" asked dick, as the captain of the army eleven rested his hand on the knob. "not much; we'll find out during tomorrow afternoon's practice. be sharp on time, won't you?" "if we're able to walk," promised dick. just after brayton had gone the orderly came through with mail. "you got something, eh?" asked greg. "yes; a letter from grand old dave darrin," cried dick, as he broke the seal of the envelope. "let me know the news," begged holmes. "whoop! dave is on the navy football team. so is dan dalzell! both have gone in at the eleventh hour." "great scott!" breathed greg, rising to his feet. "i wonder if we're going to be placed on the line where we'll have to bump 'em in the army-navy game?" "we may be, if we get on the line," uttered prescott, as he finished the epistle. "here, greg, read it for yourself. that will be quicker than waiting for me to tell you the news from our old chums." the next afternoon both prescott and holmes turned out on the gridiron practice work. both proved to be in fine form. lieutenant carney, the army coach, devoted most of his attention to them. after some preliminary work the army eleven was lined up against a "scrub" team of cadets. "mr. prescott, go to left end on the team," directed coach carney. "mr. haynes, take the right end on scrub. mr. holmes, you will be left tackle on the army team for this bit of work. the captains of both teams will now line their men up. scrub will have the ball and make the kick-off. make all the play brisk and snappy. work for speed and strategy, not impact." with that, lieutenant carney ran over to the edge of the gridiron, leaving another officer, of the coaching force, to officiate as referee. the ball was placed in play. at the kick-off the ball came to greg, who passed it to dick. the interference formed, backed by brayton. "put it around their right end!" growled brayton, the word passing swiftly to prescott. haynes was darting in, blood in his eye, backed the whole right flank of scrub. greg and the rest of the available interference got swiftly and squarely in the way of haynes and the others. there was a scrimmage. out of it, somehow---none looking on could tell just how it was done---prescott emerged from the mix-up, darting swiftly to the left and around. he had made twenty-five yards with the ball before he was nailed and downed. lieutenant carney looked, as he felt, delighted. the spectators, all of them crazy for the army's success, broke into yells of joy. dick had done the spectacular part of the trick, but he could not have succeeded without the swift, intelligent help that holmes had given. playing together, they had sprung one of the clever ruses that both had perfected back in the old gridley days. haynes was furious. he was panting. there was an angry flash in his eyes as both teams lined up for the snap-back. "that fellow has come out into the field just to spite me," snarled haynes to himself. at the signal, the ball was snapped back, and passed swiftly to dick. haynes fairly leaped into the scrimmage, as though it were deadly hand-to-hand conflict. but dick and greg, with the backing of their comrades on the army eleven, bore haynes down to earth in the mad stampede that passed over him. fifteen yards more were gained, and scrub's half-backs were feeling sore in body. "that man prescott is a wonder," muttered lieutenant carney to a brother officer of the army. "or else holmes is. it's hard to say which of the pair is doing the trick. i think both of them are." "how on earth, carney, did you come to overlook that pair until now?" "i didn't overlook them," retorted the army coach. "i had them spotted when the training first began. but both dropped out on the claim that they feared for their standing in academy work." "a pair like that," muttered captain courteney, "ought to be excused for any kind of recitations during the football season. jove! look at that---prescott has made a touchdown" "prescott carried the ball," amended lieutenant barney, "but holmes certainly had as much to do with the touchdown as prescott did." "they're wonders!" cried captain courteney joyously. "and to think that you didn't have that pair out last year." "both refused even to think of going into training last year," retorted the army coach. "both were keen on the bone. but, bone or no bone, we've got to have them on the eleven the rest of this season." by the time that the afternoon's practice was over fully fifty army officers were on the sides, watching the work, for word had traveled by 'phone and the gathering had been a quick one. "prescott! holmes!" called brayton sharply, after the practice was over. "you'll play on the army team tomorrow. lieutenant carney says so. prescott, yours is left end; holmesy, you'll expend your energies as left tackle. haynes, you'll be in reserve, as a sub." the message to cadet haynes was delivered without the suspicion of a snub in it. almost any other man in the battalion would have accepted this wise decision without a murmur, delighted that the army had found a better man. not so with cadet haynes. he turned cold all over. not a word of reply did he offer, but turned on his heal, digging his fingernails into the palms of his hands. "now, what do you think of that?" demanded haynes to himself. "turned down for that fellow prescott---that shifty dodger and cheap bootlick! and i shook hands with you yesterday, prescott! i never will again! confound you, you turned out in togs at this late hour, just to put me out of the running!" chapter xii in the battle against lehigh before noon the next day lehigh turned up---team, subs., howlers and all, and as many as could crowded into the conveyances that had been sent down to the railway station to meet the team and coaches. the cadet corps, busy to a man with saturday morning recitations, did not see the arrival of the visiting team. but the lehighs and the afternoon's game were the only topics for talk at dinner in the cadet mess hall. "they've sent over a race of giants," growled brayton down the length of the table at which he sat, while a poor little plebe cadet, acting as "gunner," was serving the roast beef. "sergeant brinkman, of the quartermaster's detachment, told me that the weight of the team sprung the axles on two of the stoutest quartermaster wagons. every man that lehigh sent over weighs a good part of a ton. what do you think of that, prescott?" "glad enough to hear it," smiled dick, nodding. "i believe it's the light, lithe, spry fellows who stand the best show of getting through the enemy's line." "if all our smaller men were like you, i'd believe it, too, muttered brayton. "but we haven't any more light men like you and holmes, prescott," broke in spurlock from the adjoining table. "i'm going to duck the team and quit playing," protested dick, "if holmesy and i are to be twitted about being wonders." "but, honestly, prescott" began brayton, "you two are-----" "average good army men, i hope," interposed dick. "nothing more, i hope. at least. i speak for myself. if holmesy wants to star-----" "i'll call you out, ramrod, if you carry the joke too far!" warned greg. seeing that both of the chums were in earned and didn't want to hear their merits sung, the others near them desisted. but, at many a table further removed, the whole trend of prediction was that, with prescott and holmes now definitely on the eleven, the army stood its first chance of defeating navy that year. the navy! it is the whole hope of west point to send annapolis down to defeat. the middies of the navy on the other hand, can smile at many and many a defeat, provided the army trails behind the navy at the annual football game. as the cadets marched out of mess hall and back along the sidewalk to barracks, those who allowed their gaze to stray ever so little across the roadway in the direction of the administration building noted that the holiday crowd had already begun to gather. there were girls down from vassar for the afternoon, and from half a dozen choice schools along the river. there were many out-of-town visitors from every direction. we're going to three or four thousand people here to see the game," murmured greg to dick, in the undertone that cadets know so well how to use in ranks without being detected in conversing. "think so?" inquired prescott. "i'm sure of it." in the groups that were strolling up and down the roads leading across the plain were young ladies whom many of the cadets wanted badly to see and exchange greetings with. first of all, however, saturday afternoon inspection had to be gone through with. from this, not even the members of the army football squad were privileged to be absent. when inspection was over many of the cadets hastened forth for brief converse with popular fair ones. none of the football men, however, had time for this. as soon as might be, they reported at the gymnasium, there to receive much counsel from coach and captain. "keep yourself in good shape, haynes," called dick, laughingly, when, after getting into togs, he met the turnback similarly attired. "going to funk?" asked haynes rather disagreeably. "not intentionally, anyway," dick smiled back at the "sore" one. "but i hear that we young davids are going to be pitted against goliaths this afternoon. it may be just my luck to go down in one of the scrimmages and get a furlough in hospital." "i hope so!" muttered haynes, but he said it under his breath. out over on the side lines officers and their families, and hordes of visitors, were filing toward the seats. across at the east side of the gridiron, lehigh's few hundred sympathizers were already bunched, and were making up with noise for their smallness of numbers. among the army "boosters" the uniforms of the officers brightened the picture. from time to time squads or detachments of cadets arrived and passed along to the seats reserved for them in the center. below the cadets, the band was stationed, and was already playing lively airs. out ahead of the band stood a megaphone on a tripod. this was to be used, later on, by the cheer-master, one of the cadets, who must call for the yells or the songs that were to be given. a rousing cheer ascended from the lehigh seats when the visiting college team trotted out on the field. hearty, courteous applause from the army seats also greeted the visitors. the band played as soon as the first lehighs were seen coming on to the field. "team fall in!" shouted brayton, at last "substitutes to the rear. forward!" out of the gym. stepped these young champions of the army. across the roadway they strode, then broke into a trot as they reached the edge of the field. and now a mighty cheer arose. yesterday, the army's friends had feared a defeat, but now word had gone the rounds that prescott and holmes had made the team strong in its weakest spot, and that a cyclonic game might be looked for. for the next few minutes the army eleven indulged in practice plays and kicks. during this period, the cheer-master cadets and the corps of cadets were busied with the various army yells and songs that promised victory for the young soldiers. nor were the lehigh "boosters" anything like idle. every time an army cheer ceased, the lehigh sympathizers cheered their own team. then game was called, with kick-off for the army. the ball was passed to lehigh's right end, who, full of steam, dashed on with it. dick and greg were foremost in the obstruction that met the lehigh runner. but the lehigh man was well supported. through dick, greg and ellerson dashed the runner, backed splendidly by his interference. it took quarterback and one of the halfbacks of the army to put the runner down some eight yards further on. "humph! i don't see that prescott and holmes are doing so much for us," muttered haynes to the sub. at his right, as both watched from the side lines. "look at what they have to stop," returned the other cadet. "don't be sore, haynes; you couldn't do any better. "humph!" grumbled the turnback. it soon developed, however, that lehigh felt especially strong on its right end. hence, much of the work seemed to devolve upon dick and greg. for twenty yarns down into army territory that ball was forced. then, after a gain of only two more yards, lehigh was forced to surrender the ball. army boosters stood up and cheered loudly. "you've got a tough crowd to get by, prescott," muttered brayton. "but look out for signals." as brayton bent over to snap-back, quarterback boyle's cool voice sounded: "fourteen---eight---nine---three!" in another instant boyle had made a running pass with the ball to greg, who passed it on to dick prescott. now all the army boosters were up in their seats, eager to see how the much-lauded prescott would serve with the pigskin. ball clasped, head down, dick settled for a run, his whole gaze on the on-coming lehigh right line. they met in a clash. dick had planned how to slip out of the impact, but the stronger lehigh right end had both arms around prescott, and down went the army left end. "humph!" grunted haynes, though his tone did not sound displeased "i hope that isn't a sample of prescott's skill," muttered one army captain to another. "no matter how good a man he is, prescott should have been in the squad from the outset of the training," replied the other. boyle was calling the signal. breathlessly the larger part of the spectators watched to see dick redeem himself. but again he failed to make much of an advance with the ball. after the second "down," with barely anything gained, brayton ordered boyle to throw the ball over to the right of the army line. so, in the next dash, prescott and holmes had but little to do. the army lost the ball. immediately it looked as though ennis, captain of lehigh, had heard all about the new army left end and left tackle, for lehigh's own sturdy right end came forward with the ball. dick and greg both dashed furiously at him, but greg was hurled aside by lehigh's interference. dick, however, held lehigh's right end dragged the army man for a yard; then others joined in the melee, and the ball was down. lehigh advanced some twenty yards before being compelled to give up the ball. it became more and more plain that the visitors intended forcing the fighting around the army's left end. at last, however, the army balked the game, and returned to the attack, trying to regain some of the lost army territory. "they're going to pound us, greg," whispered dick in one of the pauses of the game. "we were all right in the high school days, but we're playing with tremendously bigger men now." even brayton began to question his judgment having taken these two men so recently on the team. "if i had been able to train them from the first, they'd have been all right," muttered the captain of the army eleven. to ease up on prescott and holmes, brayton directed, as often as possible, charges through the center, or right-end rushes. but almost half of the time lehigh seemed bent on bearing down the army's left end. the hard work was beginning to tell on both dick and greg. yet it was a long tine, after all, before lehigh managed to score a touchdown. when the time came, however, the visitors also made their kick for goal, and the score was lehigh, 6; army, 0. "humph!" remarked cadet haynes, for the dozenth time. all his fellow subs. had moved away from him. they were disappointed, but they realized that prescott and holmes had entered the game under brilliant promise, yet without training. dutifully the cadet cheer-master kept at his work, but now the responses came with less volume from the corps of cadets, who were truly sitting on anxious seats. in the interval of rest, lieutenant carney talked anxiously with brayton. "have we made a mistake in prescott and holmes?" asked the coach. "what do you think, sir!" asked brayton. "if we had had that pair in training from the outset," replied the army officer, "i'm satisfied that they would have made a better showing. lehigh isn't a particularly strong team, but they have one of the best right-end assaults that i've seen in some time. it's really too bad that prescott and holmes, in their first game, are put against such a strong, clever assault." "well, we can't put haynes in now, unless prescott should be injured," replied brayton. "haynes?" repeated the army coach. "i'm glad he's not on your line today. training and all, haynes isn't the man to match prescott, even without training." haynes heard, and his face was convulsed with rage as he turned swiftly away. "queer how folks take so much stock in that fellow prescott!" muttered the turnback. "why can't a man like lieutenant carney see that prescott is nothing but a dub, while holmes is only a dub's helper?" all through the army seats it was beginning to be felt that the late placing of prescott and holmes in the army had probably been an error. there were even many who rated haynes higher than he deserved to be rated, and who believed that the turnback might have done much to save the day. as it was, the army had about given up hope. lehigh was stronger than usual; that was all, except that the army team appeared to be weaker than in the year before. the band still played at appropriate moments; the corps of cadets answered every signal for a yell, but army spirits were drooping fast. "greg," muttered dick, with a rueful face, "you can wager that we're being roasted by everyone out of earshot!" chapter xiii when the cheers broke loose fifteen minutes left to play. by this time even the most hopeful spectators had settled down to the conviction that the army was to lose the game. the most sanguine hoped that the score would not exceed 6 to nothing. "we're done for on this trip!" muttered lewis, the army's right guard. "no, we're not," retorted dick, his eyes flashing. "we can't lose; that's all there is to it!" "who told you that," demanded lewis. "that used to be our motto, our fighting principle on the old gridley high school team in the days when it never lost a game," replied prescott. "hm!" returned lewis. "i wish we had some more of your old gridley players on the team today, then." then they scurried to their places, leaving dick in wonder as to whether lewis' last remark had been intended for sarcasm. "greg." whispered dick, his pulses throbbing, "you see those fellows on the lehigh right flank?" they're the fellows we've got to down. we've got to down them, if we get killed!" "that's the word!" gritted the army left tackle. "dick, i'd about as soon be killed as let the army be walked over!" this had all been whispered rapidly. the army had just got the ball again, and was only ten yards over into lehigh territory. now boyle's signal was sounding: "twelve---seven---six---three!" dick straightened. greg squirmed. both knew that their chance had come again. making an oblique dash, boyle himself passed the pigskin to dick prescott. then all of the army line that could do so stiffened in and surged behind prescott and holmes. lehigh's bigger right end was making like a cyclone for dick. the lehigh man was backed finely. just as they were on the point of dashing together, greg, as by previous arrangement, gave dick a prodigious shove, at the same instant himself leaping forward. so quickly was the thing done that lehigh's right end, ere he realized it, had grappled with greg---and dick was around the end, racing! with a muttered growl of rage lehigh's man let holmes go. for a second or two, the college men were badly rattled. greg, with the agility of a squirrel, ducked low and got through, racing with all his might after prescott. twenty-four yards were covered ere prescott went down. when he did so, greg was standing back, saving himself that he might help dick the next time. once more the ball was snapped back. this time some brilliant faking was done. the whole of the first movement looked as though the ball were to be pushed somewhere through the army's right flank, and lehigh wheeled accordingly. but it was a left-end pass, after all. dick and greg got through by a very slight variation on their last ruse eighteen yards more gained! in an instant, now, those in the army seats were wild with enthusiasm. the band crashed out joyously, a dozen measures, while the cadets sang one of their songs of jubilant brag. then all was suddenly still for the next bit of play. while the men of both teams were hurrying to the line-up, a signal was noticed by hundreds that caused excited comment. brayton made some slight signal to prescott both dick and greg shook their heads sullenly. "confound brayton!" shivered lieutenant barney. "what does he mean by that? he has signaled prescott and holmes asking them if they can put one more by lehigh, and they have refused. ennis and all the lehighs have tumbled. brayton-----" "seven---two---nine---eight!" voiced quarterback boyle. instantly coach carney's face cleared. it was an emergency signal, not yet used in the game. as if unconsciously, all the men of the army eleven had turned toward right guard. the ball was snapped back. boyle took three steps of a plunge toward right guard, then suddenly dodged, passing the ball to greg, who swiftly passed it to prescott---and the race was on. lehigh's right end made a gallant dash to stop dick. there was a mix-up in an instant. all happened so swiftly that the spectators were not certain how the thing had been done. but dick prescott, with cadet greg holmes almost at his side, was charging across the lower field, past one of the halfbacks, and with only fullback really in their way. there was a tackle. but dick was seen to come out of it, while greg rolled on the grass with the fullback. "_touchdown!_" the air trembled with the vibration of that surging yell as cadet prescott raced across lehigh's goal line. "humph!" ejaculated haynes. but he, too, was on his feet, watching the lively performance. then the pigskin was carried back for the kick for goal, and the goal was made. lehigh was tied! after the early discouragements of the game that seemed luck enough. lieutenant carney was the personal embodiment of joy as he recalled the signal of brayton and the sullen headshakes of prescott and holmes. "that was a ratty and clever piece of acting, to throw the visitors off their guard!" chuckled the army coach. no time was lost in lining up again. only seven minutes of playing time were left. it seemed too short in which to do anything in the faces of the army players there glowed the light of determination. within three minutes the ball was well down in lehigh territory. the college men fought grimly now. they were becoming rattled; the army players seemed more confident and more full of spirit than at time in the day. now there came another play. again the army's left wing was used. there was a short, desperate scrimmage. the army had gained four yards, yet lost---what? for, out of that scrimmage came dick and greg, each limping enough to be noticed. one of the army "rainmakers" (doctors) even started out from the side lines, but brayton waive the medical officer back. "is it a trick, this time, or real?" wondered conch carney, who did not care to be caught napping again. "five---nine---seven---two---eighteen!" the last numeral called for a fake kick. so well was the strategy carried out that lehigh was even trapped into spreading out a trifle. it was a left-end play again, however, and dick and greg, backed by all the rest, fought to put it through. lehigh's halfback caught prescott this time---caught him fair and full, and prescott went down. yet this had been intended. so well was it done that greg, close in, was away with the ball by the time that prescott touched the earth. there was a yell of dismay from the visitors. they started to bear down holmes, but all of the army team had been prepared for this move from the instant the last signal; had been called. so it was the full force of the charging army line that pushed cadet holmes through and over the goal line. over all the cheering that followed this manoeuvre came the call for time at the end of the game's playing time. yet, under the rules, the kick for goal was tried. the kick failed---but who cared? the finishing score was: army, 11; lehigh, 6. gone were all the doubts concerning prescott and holmes. now they were the most sensational players in the army team. justly brayton received his full share of credit both for taking on prescott and holmes at the eleventh hour, and also for carrying out so cleverly his own captain's part of the strategy that had won. lehigh's team went off the field dejected. the visitors had counted on victory as theirs. there was a noticeable silence among the lehigh "boosters" as they clambered down from their from their seats and strolled moodily away. only one man had any adverse commend. that man was turnback haynes, and all he said was: "_humph!_" chapter xiv for auld lang syne after that dick and greg turned out every day for practice with the team. both lieutenant carney and team captain brayton speedily learned that they had made no mistake in getting prescott and holmes on to the line. a number of smaller colleges were defeated, and with rattling good scores. dick and greg seemed to improve with every game. true, yale walked off with the honors, though the score, ten to six, had been stubbornly contested throughout. harvard was played to a tie that year; princeton was beaten by six to two, the two standing for a safety that princeton forced the army to make. lieutenant carney was one of the happiest men on the station. from having a team rather below the average, he had produced an army eleven that was destined to go down as famous in american military life. as thanksgiving drew near all interest centered in what was, after all, to be the real game of the year---that between the army and the navy, which is always played the saturday after that holiday. haynes, during the season's good work, had not been able wholly to keep his tongue back of his teeth. he had made several disparaging remarks. for of these remarks lewis, of the army eleven, chose to take he turnback to account. hot words followed, ending in a fight. haynes, roundly beaten, withdrew altogether from the eleven. "that fellow prescott has wonderful luck, or he'd have had his neck broken long ago, considering all the hard packs that he has bumped into in the games," growled the turnback disgustedly to himself. in fact, haynes was forced to do a large share of his talking with himself. he hadn't been "cut" by the other cadets, but he had succeeded in making himself generally unpopular through his too evident dislike of prescott. "funny, but that's the man who wanted me to resign the class presidency so that he could run for it," laughed dick to his chum. dick had told greg of that laughable interview, but it had gone no further. greg could be trusted not to talk too much. "going over to philadelphia to see the navy anchored to a zero score, haynes?" asked carter, of the second class. "yes; i reckon i'm going over," replied haynes. "but i'm not so sure that we'll see the navy sunk," replied the turnback. "i know you don't care much for prescott," smiled carter. "yet how can you be blind to the wonderful work that he and holmes are doing? is it because prescott is playing the position for which you were cast?" "no, it isn't," retorted haynes, his face red with passion "if our team wants prescott, let it have him. i don't care. but i've a notion prescott won't be strutting about with such lordly airs-----" "prescotts? lordly airs?" broke in cadet carter, grinning broadly. "whew, but that would make a hit with the fellows! why, prescott is anything but a lordly chap. he's one of the most modest fellows in the corps. he had to be fairly dragged on to the eleven. he believed it would be better off without him." "so it would, sure!" rasped the turnback. "now, see here, haynes, don't get so sore as to warp your own judgment," expostulated carter. "well, you just wait and see how much we do to the navy! have you heard about the navy's new, lightning right end?" "darrin, you mean?" "yes," nodded haynes. "a friend of mine, who saw darrin play the other day, writes me that darrin is an armor-clad terror on the grid iron. if he is, he'll pulverize prescott, unless brayton shifts prescott to some other position." "pooh! i'm not afraid," laughed carter, turning to walk away. "darrin, no doubt, is good, but he can't do anything to prescott." neither of the speakers was aware that dave darrin, midshipman, united states navy, was one of the oldest and dearest friends that dick prescott had. few at west point knew that darrin and prescott had ever met. "am i going over to philadelphia to see the game?" muttered haynes to himself, as he strode away from the game. "i want to see prescott go up against the real star darrin, and get his neck broken!" anstey was one of the few at west point who knew anything about the friendship between prescott, holmes, darrin and dalzell. dan dalzell had also made the annapolis eleven, playing right tackle. that was bound to bring him into hard grip with greg. "anstey, i hope there's time for you to make the acquaintance of dave and dan," dick said earnestly while the virginian was visiting greg and himself. "dave and dan are two of the real fellows, if there are any left in the world. "they must be, old ramrod," replied the virginian quietly, "if they hold such place in your affections, and in old holmesy's." great was the rejoicing, on the eventful morning, when the two "army specials" pulled out from the station down by the river's edge. the first section of the train pulled out ahead, carrying the officers of the post, their families and closest friends. on the second longer section traveled the corps of cadets---with the exception of a few of the young men who, under discipline, were not allowed to take this trip. with the cadets went the tactical officers and the coaching force. at jersey city the first real stop was made. then the journey was resumed to philadelphia. franklin field was crowded with somewhere between thirty and thirty-five thousand people when the corps of cadets, headed by the band, marched on to the field and thence to the seats reserved for the band and the corps. the whole progress of the corps across the field was accompanied by lusty cheering, by applause and by the mad waving of the gray, black and gold army pennants. most of the spectators who carried the navy's blue and gold pennants so far forgot their partisanship as to cheer and wave for the army's young men. hardly was the corps of cadets seated when another loud strain of joyous music was heard. the brigade of midshipmen, from annapolis, behind the naval academy band, was now entering the field. all the cheering and all the other frantic signs of approval were repeated, the corps of cadets from west point lending heavy additional volume to the rousing send-off. in the meantime rival football squads had been hustled off to dressing quarters. as the army squad made quick time to the dressing rooms, dick and greg had their eyes on the alert for even the briefest glimpse of any of the navy eleven. it was two years and a half since dick and greg had had even a glimpse of dave or dan. how the two west pointers yearned for even an instant's look at the chums of old days! but no such exchange of glimpses was possible at this time. the army players and substitutes got into their togs, then waited. "all ready?" called brayton at last. "then fall in and out on to the field in double time!" another wild outburst of cheering was let loose when the army eleven trotted in into view. the military academy band began playing. an instant later the naval academy band fell in, playing the same air by ear. the ball was turned loose, and after it went the players. the practice work was brisk and warm. hardly had the combined bands stopped playing when another great yell broke loose. young men in the blue and gold striped stockings of the navy were trotting on to the field. the navy band turned itself loose, followed in an instant by the army band. the din was something bewildering. those in the further seats could not hear the music of the bands at all. dick and greg watched covertly as they saw the navy team come on at the other end of the field. which was dave, and which was dan? hang it, how disguising these football suits were! both teams went on with their practice. there came a moment when the army and navy teams came closer to each other. then the eager spectators saw something that was not on the programme. the chums of the old gridley days had made each other out in the same moment. there was a rush. in mid-field dick prescott and dave darrin gripped hands as if they could never let go again. across their outstretched arms greg and dan found each other in a right-hand clasp. so delighted were the old chums that they fairly hugged each other. over it all, while the spectators gazed in silent wonder, came the strains from the army band, for the leader, more with a sense of the fitting than from any knowledge of facts, waved his men into the strains of "auld lang syne." "should auld acquaintance be forgot-----" the band was playing softly. as the spectators took up the fine old words the band music died down. there came a rolling rattle from the drum section of the navy band, and then high over all the voices rose the triumphant measures of "columbia, the gem of the ocean." that crowd forgot to cheer. it was a moment for song, as thousands, catching the full spirit of the air, gave voice to--"the army and navy forever!" not a word, so far, had been spoken by any one of the chums. they had not intended to bring about a scene like this, making themselves the central figures in the great picture. but it was too late to retreat. "it seems as though an age had gone by, dave," spoke cadet prescott. "it surely does, dick," returned midshipman darrin. "and we've got to beat you today, too," said midshipman dalzell dolefully. "what? beat the army?" gasped cadet holmes. "the navy is the only crowd that can really do it," admitted dalzell. "foes in sport today, dave!" declared prescott ardently. "but in nothing else, ever!" "never mind either the army or the navy, just for the minute," begged dave darrin. "but it's great, isn't it, just to be in the service at all?" then, becoming suddenly aware that they had demoralized the practice work of both elevens, cadets and midshipmen parted. "but do your best to beat me today, dave!" begged dick. "i surely will!" came back the retort. "and don't you falter for the army, dick!" "old friends, prescott?" demanded brayton as the two cadets ran back to their own forces. "we four learned football together, on the same team," confessed dick. "is that man darrin as big a wonder as we've heard?" queried brayton. "bigger, i'm afraid," returned prescott. "he opposes you today. can he get away with you?" "he may be able to batter me down. but i'll give him all the trouble i can, brayton. darrin is for the navy, but i'm equally for the army!" "it will be all right, as long as friendship doesn't break up your work," warned brayton. "that very friendship will make all four of us fight harder than ever we did in our lives before," spoke prescott seriously. at almost the very same moment dave darrin was saying about the same thing to the captain of the navy team. "humph! do those fellows think they're posing before a moving-picture machine?" the one who uttered that remark was turnback haynes. he had come on to the field with a scowling face, and the scowl was likely to deepen steadily. anstey, from his seat, had been "all eyes" for the pair whom he now knew to be the heard-about darrin and dalzell. all anstey's further speculation was cut short. the army and navy elevens were lining up to start play. chapter xv heroes and a sneak turnback haynes watched the game closely, darkly. he wanted to note and to remember every play near the army's left end today. should the navy win the day's battle, then cadets haynes felt sure he could make a large number of men in the second class at the military academy believe that prescott had allowed his ancient friendship to stand in the way of an army victory. "great caesar, i might even succeed in getting to be president of the class yet!" muttered the turnback. "there they go again!" a second or two later the wild cheering began again. for the army was charging with the ball, well down in navy territory, and prescott, with the pigskin safely tucked, was using his most wily tactics to get by dave darrin. and dick succeeded, too, though only for eight yards, when dave had the satisfaction of helping to pull his old-time chum down to the ground in the interests of the navy. for a little while the ball had been over on army ground. now, however, it was going steadily toward the navy's goal line, and the interest of the spectators was intense. the time of the game was more than half gone. once the navy had been forced to carry the pig skin behind its own line, gaining thus a fresh lease of life in the game. but, of course, the safety scored two against the navy. for a while afterward it had looked as though that, would be the score for the game---two to nothing. "if brayton uses prescott just right, and doesn't call on them too often, they'll get the ball over the navy's goal line yet," confided lieutenant carney to a brother officer who stood at his side. "the navy line-up is a great one this year," replied his comrade. "for myself i'd be satisfied to see the score end as it stands---two to nothing." "without a touchdown on either side!" questioned lieutenant carney, with a trace of scorn in his voice. "that wouldn't be real sport, old fellow!" "i know; but it would be at least a safe finish for the army," responded the other. just then quarterback boyle's voice was heard giving the signal: "eight---seventeen---four!" lieutenant carney gave his friend's arm a slight nudge. by way of greg the ball came to dick, who, already in fleet motion, was none the less ready for the pass. with the ball under his arm, prescott started. almost in an instant dave and dan piled upon him, ere greg could get in for effective interference. two more downs and the navy had the ball. now darrin, with dalzell's close elbow-touch throughout, started a series of brilliant plays. to be sure, dave didn't make all the runs, but he made the larger part of them. turnback haynes's eyes began to snap. dave darrin was playing with fire in his eyes. prescott was fighting back, doggedly, sullenly it almost seemed, but darrin was putting on his best streak of the day. ere the navy was obliged to give up the ball once more it had crossed the line, and was twelve yards down in army territory. nor did the army succeed in getting the ball back over the center line. once more the navy took the ball and began to work wonders with it. within fifteen yards of the army goal line the middies carried the ball, by easy stages. dan dalzell, for an instant, caught greg's glance and sent him a look of comical warning. holmes stiffened, though he returned the look in all personal friendliness. "don't let dave do it---whatever he'll be up to next," begged greg, in an appealing whisper. "dick, i'll stay beside you---to the death!" it was another right-end pass for the navy, backed by a solid charge. worse, in the impact that followed dave succeeded, somehow, in outwitting even prescott's stern vigilance. dick prescott gave vent to a gasp. he felt his heart thumping as he wheeled, dashing after dave. but darrin was in his element now, neither to be stopped, nor overtaken. dodging with marvellous agility and craft three army men who sought to bar his way, dave went pantingly over the army goal line---scoring a touchdown! what a fearful tumult ascended from the seats of the navy's sympathizers over on the stands! the navy had proved itself, by scoring the only touchdown. lieutenant carney groaned inwardly. two to five now---and the army coach saw no more hope of scoring for this day. flushed, happy, the midshipmen ran back to form their line for the try for goal. that kick missed fire. no matter! five to two for the navy, anyhow! at the signal the army and navy lined up to fight out what was left of time to play the game. naval academy band and the whole navel crowd were having the jubilation all their own way. the midshipmen, having proved slight superiority over the army, could doubtless prevent more scoring in this game. in fact, the navy captain had just passed this wood to the members of his team: "score, of course, if we can. but, above all, keep the army from scoring!" it was the navy's turn to make the kick-off. this gave the army at least the chance of starting the running with the ball. prescott and holmes had shown as yet no signs of cave in. every player on the navy team looked to see this swift, tricky army pair make the first effort of the new series. he carried it ten yards, too, ere he was obliged to go to the ground with the pigskin under him. the next play was made at the center of the army line. what was the matter? wondered many of the army watchers. was brayton becoming dissatisfied with his left wing? "humph!" rejoined haynes sourly. but the third time that the ball was put in play it went swiftly to prescott. instead of trying to make his way around the end, dick suddenly sped some what to the right. darrin had gone in the opposite direction, yet, thoroughly familiar with his old chum's tricky ways of play, dave had his eyes wide open. so he wheeled, rushing at prescott. but he bumped, instead, with greg, a fraction of a second before dalzell could reach the spot and take a hand. then the whole army line charged down on the endangered spot. dick was through, and the navy men were having all they do. in a twinkling prescott had sped, on, now was he caught and downed until he had the ball within twelve yards of the navy's goal line. right off the army cheer-master was on the job. the corps yell was raised with prescott's name and holmes's. brayton looked flushed and happy. he hoped yet to show these over-confident middies something. again the line-up was made for the snapback. the midshipmen players were now justifiably nervous, though they gave no sign of the fact. again the signal was given. holmes received the ball and started. the whole army line veered to the left. the navy moved to mass in support of darrin and dalzell. yet, just as the navy men thought they could stop greg, it turned out that prescott carried the pigskin. nor did cadet prescott lose any time at all in trying to buck the line. ere the attention of the navy had been drawn away from holmes, prescott was off on a slanting line around the navy's right end. even dave darrin was properly fooled this time. dick had only to shake off a halfback and the fullback and he was over the goal line, holding down the ball. never before had franklin field heard a greater din than now arose. the army band was now playing furiously, yet the musicians barely heard themselves. the black, gold and gray pennants of the army were waving frantically over half the field. the noise of cheering must have been heard a mile away. from the cadets themselves came some army yell for which the cheer-master had signaled, but no one heard what it was. the noise continued until the line-up had been effected for the kick for goal. brayton, flushed with delight, chose to make the kick himself. the pigskin soared, describing a beautiful curve. between the goal posts it went, dropping back of the line. gloom had fallen over the middies, who realized that but three minutes time was left. swiftly as could be, the line-up was made for the kick-off. it was the army's turn to start the ball, the navy's to come back with it, if possible, into army territory. the navy soon succeeded in getting the pigskin a trifle over the middle line. but the time was too short in which to do anything decisive. the army was strictly on the defensive, taking no chances. time was called. the army had won, eight to five! when it was all over the middies cheered the victors as lustily as anyone, though sore hearts beat under the blue uniforms of annapolis. west points cadets, on the other hand, were wild with joy. again and again they sent up the rousing corps yell for prescott and holmes, with brayton's name added. turnback haynes, finding no one to listen to him now, in anything he might have to say against prescott, turned to stare at the heaving lines of gray. to himself, haynes muttered curiously: "humph!" that one word did not, however, do justice to haynes's frame of mind. he was wild with jealousy and hatred, but dared not show it. that fellow prescott will have his head fearfully swelled and be more unbearable than ever! growled haynes to himself. confound him, he has no business at all in the army! why should he be? then, after a pause, a cunning look crept slowly into the eyes of the turnback, as he throbbed under his breath: if i can have anything to do with it, he wont be much longer in the army! for just a moment, ere the teams left the field, the old gridley chums had a chance to rush over to each other. "i was afraid of you, dick," dave confessed. "not more than i was of you, dave, laughed prescott." "did you find the army such easy stuff to use as a doormat, dan?" queried greg dryly. "oh, it--it--it was the fault of the new rules," retorted midshipman dalzell, making a wry face. "you know, greg, you never could play much football. but the new rules favor the muff style of playing." only a few more words could the quartette exchange. there was time, however, for a few minutes of talk before the west pointers were obliged to leave for their train. greg, sighed dick, if we only had dave and dan playing on the same team with us, such a game would be great! "oh, well," murmured greg, "whether annapolis or west point lugged off the actual score, the service won, anyway. for the army and navy are inseparable units of the service." it was a very orderly and dignified lot of cadets who filed aboard the cadet section of the train to leave for home. once the train was well on its way out of philadelphia, however, the pent-up enthusiasm of the happy sons of the army broke loose, nor did the tactical officers with them make any effort to restrain the merry enthusiasm. some of the cadets went from car to car, in search of more excitement. dick prescott soon became so tired of hero-worship that he slipped along through the rear car a few feet at a time until, at last, unobserved, he managed to make his way out on to the rear platform. unobserved, that is, by all save one. turnback haynes, who had been watching dick with a sort of wild fascination, noted dick's latest move. the train, which had been traveling at high speed, now slowed down to some twenty-five miles an hour in order to pass over a river. while the attention of all the rest was turned toward the front end of the car, haynes, with lowered eyes and half-slinking manner, made his way toward the rear of the car. peering through the glass in the door, the turnback could make out cadet prescott standing outside. dick's back was toward the door. a diabolical light flashed in haynes's eyes for a moment. he shook from head to foot, but, by a strong effort of will, he stayed his quivering. one stealthy look over his shoulder haynes took, then suddenly opened the door, stepping outside. cadet prescott half turned. there was no time to do more, when he felt himself seized in a strong clutch. there was hardly any struggle. it all seemed to be over in a second or so. cadet prescott plunged headlong through the darkness of the night into the dark river below! chapter xvi roll-call gives the alarm for an instant haynes leaned far out. now his eyes were filed with a terror that overcame the wild fascination of his wicked deed. his anger had died down in a flash. turnback haynes would have given worlds to be able to recall the felonious deed he had just committed. but it was too late. he had seen prescott's flying figure sink beneath the waters, which came up to within a few feet of the railroad trestle. haynes turned back with a sobbing groan. then he cast a terrified look into the car. some of the fellows must have seen both of us come out here, he quavered. they'll see only one of us come back. i'll have to stand the whole fire of questions. ugh! c-c-can i stand it without breaking down and giving myself away? the train was over and off of the bridge by now. warned by a light burning between the rails, the engineer brought the train to a standstill. his heart bounding with a cowards hope, turnback haynes leaped down to the roadbed. breathlessly he rushed along the side of the train. he succeeded in gaining the platform of the third car ahead. though his knees shook under him, the turnback swung up on to the steps. in another moment, after noting that the cadets were not looking particularly towards the door, haynes turned the knob, stepping inside and dropping, with feigned carelessness, into an empty seat. "hullo, haynesy," was lewis's easy greeting. been up ahead? "yes," lied the turnback. anstey heard, though he did not pay much heed to the statement at the time. there were many, of course, who asked for dick. greg had not seen his chum for some time. in his own heart holmes felt sure that dick, tired of being congratulated, had sought retirement---in the baggage car, probably. so greg had little to say, and did not go in search of his chum. it was not, in fact, until the corps reached west point, and roll-call by companies was held, that the absence of cadet richard prescott, second class, was discovered. then there was a good deal of curiosity among a few comrades, wild excitement and useless speculation. an hour later, however, greg's fevered imaginings were cut short by word that was brought over to him from the cadet guard house. prescott had reported by wire. he had fallen from the rear car of the train into a river. the telegram merely stated that he had made his way to the nearest village, where a clergyman had provided him with the funds needed for his return to west point. he would report at the earliest hour possible. from room to room in cadet barracks flew the news. "now, how could a fellow be so careless as to fall off a moving train?" demanded lewis. "old ramrod may have been shaken up a heap in the game," hinted anstey. "prescott isn't the sort of chap to tell us every time he feels a trifle dizzy or experiences a nervous twitch. he may have felt badly, may have gone out on the platform for a whiff of fresh air, and then may have felt so much worse that he fell." "depend upon one thing," put in brayton decisively. "whatever prescott does there's some kind of good reason for." "it's enough, for to-night, declared greg, to know that the royal old fellow is safe, anyway. to-morrow, well have the story, if there is any story worth having." turnback haynes received the news with mingled emotions. his first sensation was one of relief at knowing that he was not actually a murderer---one who had wickedly slain a fellow human being. it was not long, though, before haynes became seized with absolute fright over the thought that prescott must have recognized him. "in that case, all i can do is to stick out for absolute and repeated denial," shivered the turnback. "there's one great thing about west point, anyway---a cadets word simply has to be taken, unless there is the most convincing proof to the contrary. i guess lewis will remember that i came in from the car ahead or seemed to. but i wonder if anyone, officer or cadet, saw me running along at the side of the train?" it was small wonder that cadet haynes failed to get any sleep that night. all through the long hours to reveille the cadet tossed and tumbled on his cot. fortunately for him, his roommate was too sound a sleeper to hear the tossing. heavy-eyed, shuddering, haynes rose in the morning. through the usual routine he went, and at last marched off to section recitation, outwardly as jaunty as any other man in the corps, yet with dark dread lurking in his soul. it was about noon when prescott reported at the adjutant's office, next going to the office of the commandant of cadets. by both officers dick was congratulated on his fortunate escape from death. each officer asked him a few direct questions. prescott stated that he had remained over night with the village clergyman, giving his wet, icy clothing a chance to dry. it was when asked how he came to fall from the rear platform of the car that the cadet hesitated. "i thought i was thrown from the platform, sir," dick replied in each case. "who was on the platform with you?" "no one, sir, an instant before." "did you see any one come out of the car?" "no, sir." "did you recognize any assailant?" "no-o, sir." "have you any good reason to suspect any particular person?" "no _good_ reason, sir." "could any one have come out of the car, unless it had been a tactical officer, a cadet or a railway employee?" "no, sir." that was as far as the questioning went, for both the adjutant and the commandant of cadets believed that dick had been pitched from the rear platform by some sudden movement of the car. no other belief seemed sane enough to be considered. it was the commandant of cadets who suggested: "if you feel the slightest need of it, mr. prescott, you may go at once to cadet hospital, and be examined by one of the surgeons. we don't want you coming down with illness later, on account of a neglected chill." "i am very certain i don't need a medical officers attention, sir," replied cadet prescott, with just the trace of a smile. "the rev. dr. brown and his wife were about the most attentive people i ever met. i was pretty cold, sir, when i reached their house. but inside of five minutes they had me rolled up in warm blankets and were dosing me with ginger tea. afterwards they gave me a hot supper. i slept like a top, sir, last night." "you feel fit then, mr. prescott, to return to full duty? asked the k.c. "wholly fit, sir." "very good. then i will so mark you. go to your quarters, mr. prescott, and wait until the next call, which will be the call for dinner formation." saluting the commandant, prescott left the cadet guard house, hastening to his own room. a few minutes later cadet holmes burst in upon his chum. to him dick told the whole story of his striking the water, of his swimming to shore, and of hurried trip through the cold night to the nearest house. "and you're sure you were pushed?" questioned greg thoughtfully. "either i was pushed, or it was all a horrid dream," replied dick fervently. "then why didn't you so tell the k.c.?" "i answered the k.c. truthfully, greg. i told him all that i really know. i didn't feel called upon, and wasn't asked, to tell him anything that i guessed." "what is your guess?" insisted holmes, with the privilege of a friend. "greg, as far as i can be sure of anything without knowing it, i am absolutely certain that a cadet came out of the car, behind me, and that he pushed me off the platform." "a cadet?" demanded greg, turning pale. to holmes it seemed atrocious to couple the word cadet with any act of dishonor. "greg, as i plunged through the air, i succeeded in turning a trifle. i am convinced, in my own mind, that i saw the gray cape overcoat of a cadet i am also certain that i got a glimpse of his face. the only limit to my certainty is that i wouldn't want to name the man under oath." "who was he?" demanded holmes. advancing, placing his lips against one of greg's ears, prescott whispered the name: "haynes! but you mustn't breathe this to a living soul! remember, i wouldn't dare swear to the truth of what i've hinted to you." greg holmes, wholly and utterly loyal to the cadet corps of which he was himself an honored member, went even paler. he leaned back against the wall, clenching his fists tightly. "haynes?" he whispered. "i don't like the fellow, and i never did. he's no friend of yours, either, dick. but he wears the staunch old cadet uniform and has had more than three years of the west point traditions. it seems impossible, dick. had anyone else but you told me this, even against haynes, i would have turned on my heel and walked away." "i hope it isn't true---i hope it is all a hideous nightmare, born of my dismay when i found myself going through space!" breathed dick fervently. "what are you going to do about this?" asked greg huskily. "nothing whatever." "you are not going to mention haynes to anyone else?" "no, sirree! i shall keep my eyes open a bit when haynes is around; that is all." "i hope it isn't true---oh, i hope it isn't true," breathed greg fervently. "but i know you're no liar, dick, and you're no dreamer of dreams! confound it, i almost wish you hadn't told me this. but i asked you to." greg's face was a queer ashen gray in color. at that moment the call for dinner formation sounded. "you're all ready, dick, so hustle along. i've clean forgotten to get myself ready. you hustle, and i'll try not to be late in the formation." as cadet prescott hastened along through the lower corridor, he came face to face with the turnback. haynes stopped short, his jaw drooping. for just a second he stiffened his arms as though to throw himself in an attitude of defence. halting, without speaking or raising a hand, dick prescott looked squarely into the other man's eyes. haynes turned ghastly pale, his jaw moving nervously as though he would speak and could not. a smile of scorn flashed into prescotts face. haynes fairly writhed beneath that contemptuous look. then, still without a word or a sound, prescott passed on. "he did it!" muttered dick to himself. yet, with the certainty of the turnbacks guilt, prescott did not wish haynes any personal harm. the only greatly perturbed thought that ran through dick's mind was: "that fellow is not fit for the army. must he be allowed to go on and graduate?" thrice during the dinner period dick allowed his glance to rove over to the turnback. not once did he catch haynes's eye, but that young man was making only a pretence at eating. "if he really pushed me from the train," muttered prescott to himself, "i hope haynes worries about it until he fesses cold in some study and so has to leave the military academy. for he'll never be fit to be an officer. he couldn't command other men with justice." chapter xvii mr. cadet slowpoke despite the fact that he had been through the first half of the year before, haynes actually did go somewhat stale in some of the studies. some of the cadets who lived near enough were permitted to go home at the christmas holidays, and the turnback was among this number. yet haynes came back. in the january examinations he stood badly, getting place rather near the foot of the second class. yet he pulled through and retained his place in the corps. dick and greg, who did not go home over the holidays, both did fairly well in january. each secured a number not far above the bottom of the second third of the class. on washington's birthday, the cadets had a holiday after dinner. the day, however, was ten-fold joyous for dick, because mrs. bentley, laura and belle meade were expected on the afternoon of that day, the girls to attend the cadet hop at cullum hall in the evening. dick and greg, in their spooniest uniforms, were at the railway station to meet the visitors. "quick!" cried mrs. bentley, after the greetings were over. "there's the stage, and its about to start. we'll all get seats in it." "if that is the programme, mrs. bentley," laughed dick, "greg and i will have to overtake you, later on, on foot. cadets are not allowed to ride in the stage. "can't you telephone for a carriage, then?" inquired mrs. bentley. "certainly, and with pleasure, but cadets may not ride in a carriage, either." "oh, you poor cadets!" cried mrs. bentley. "to think of your having to climb that steep road ahead. and its ever so long, too!" "you get in the stage, mother, and belle and i will walk up the road with dick and greg," proposed laura bentley. so the two cadets busied themselves with assisting mrs. bentley into the stage, after which they returned to their fair friends. "now, i have trouble in store for you two young men," declared belle meade, frowning. "why did you young men conspire to beat the navy at football?" "for the honor and glory of the army," replied dick, smiling. "to put humiliation over your old chums, dave and dan," flashed belle. "laura and i were down at annapolis, at a hop last month, as you may have heard. poor dave hasn't yet recovered from the blow of seeing the navy lose that game to the army!" "but i'll wager he didn't blame us," retorted prescott, his eyes twinkling. "he said that, if it hadn't been for you and greg, the navy would have won the game," retorted belle. "i hope that's true," declared dick boldly. "oh, you do, mister prescott? and why?" asked belle. "because i belong to the army, and i want always to see the army win." "if west point defeats annapolis next thanksgiving, and if its because of you and greg, then i'll never speak to either of you again," asserted belle. "come along, dick," laughed laura. "belle's positively dangerous when she talks about the navy!" "the navy is the only real branch of the service," declared belle, with a toss of her head. "everybody says so. the army is merely nothing---positive zero!" "laughing good-humoredly, greg piloted belle up the long, winding walk that leads to the west point plain. dick and laura soon fell in behind, at some distance, walking very slowly. "did you have a tiresome trip here?" inquired dick. "no; a very pleasant one," laura replied. "i should think a long journey would be tedious to women traveling without male escort," dick went on. "we had escort as far as new york," laura replied promptly. "oh, you did?" inquired prescott, feeling a swift sinking at heart. "yes; mr. cameron had to make a flying trip to new york. he had to come at about this time, so he put it off for three or four days in order to travel through with us. wasn't that nice of him?" "extremely nice of him," admitted the cadet rather huskily. "i---i suppose he will return with you from new york." "we expect him to," laura admitted. "but what a great game that must have been, dick! how i wish belle and i had gone over to philadelphia to see it." "it was an exciting game, and a hard-fought one." laura chatted on gayly, and at the same time displayed much enthusiasm over the life at west point. yet dick, though he strove to conceal the fact, was low spirited over the attentions of mr. cameron. the two cadets had permission to visit at the hotel, so went into the parlor until the girls joined them there. later, as there was no snow on the ground, a stroll about the post was proposed and enjoyed. dick made out laura's card for the dance that night, while greg attended to belle's. many were the cadets who glared at dick and greg for not having inscribed their names on the dance cards of these two very "spoony femmes." (pretty girls.) after one of her dances with dick, belle asked him to lead her out into the corridor, where the air was cooler. "shall i go after your wrap?" asked dick solicitously. "goodness, no," replied belle. "i'm not as sensitive as that." then, abruptly changing the subject, miss meade asked: "what do you think of mr. cameron?" "i saw very little of him," dick replied. "but what do you think of him?" belle insisted. "i think that, if he is laura's friend, he must be a fine fellow," dick replied with enthusiasm. a slight shudder of disappointment passed over belle. "are you beginning to feel chilly, belle?" asked dick anxiously. "if i am, its nervously, not because i am really cold," replied miss meade dryly. "why did you ask me what i think of mr. cameron?" "because i am interested in knowing," belle answered. "mr. cameron is with laura a great deal these times." "is he?" asked dick, with another sinking at the heart. "oh, yes," belle replied. "some folks in gridley are nodding their heads wisely, and pretending they can guess what is going to happen before long. but i'm very certain that there is nothing quite definite as yet. indeed, i'm not quite sure that laura really knows her own mind as yet." soon after that, miss meade requested to be conducted back into the ballroom, to find greg, who was to be her next partner. "now, good gracious, i hope i've really given cadet slowpoke a broad enough hint," thought belle. "if he doesn't go ahead and speak to laura now, it'll be because he doesn't care. and leonard cameron isn't a bad fellow, even if he does prefer the yardstick to a sword!" as for dick, his evening was spoiled. his sense of honor prevented his "speaking" to laura until he felt that his future in the army was assured. yet spoiled as his evening was, prescott did his best to make it a bright occasion for laura bentley. the next morning, while the members of the cadet corps were grinding at recitations, or boning over study desks in barracks, mrs. bentley and the girls rode down the slope in the stage and boarded a train for new york. dick had not "spoken." chapter xviii the enemies have an understanding after that february hop, cadet prescott appeared to give himself over to one dominating ambition. that ambition was to secure higher standing in his class. he became a "bone," and tried so hard to delight his instructors that he was suspected of boning bootlick with the academic board. for prescott had dropped laura out of his mind. that is to say, he had tried to do it, and prescott was a young man with a strong will. belle's words, instead of spurring him on to do something that his own peculiar sense of honor forbade, had killed his vague dream. after all, dick reasoned, it was laura's own good and greatest happiness that must be considered. leonard cameron, a rising and prosperous young merchant in gridley, would doubtless be able to give laura a much better place in the world. in the matter of income, cameron doubtless enjoyed three or four times as much as the annual pay of a second lieutenant ($1,700) amounts to. besides, cameron was not much in the way of risking his life, while an army officer may be killed at any time, even in an ordinary riot. a lieutenants widow received only her pension of a comparatively few dollars a month. "it would have been almost criminal for me to have thought of tying laura's future up to mine," dick told himself savagely, as he took a lonely stroll one march afternoon. "i'll have nothing but my pay, if i do graduate. a fellow like cameron can allow his wife more for pin money than my whole years pay will come to. really, i've no right to marry any but a rich girl, who has her own income. and, even if i fell in love with a rich girl, i wouldn't have the nerve to propose to her. i'd feel like a cheap fortune hunter." having made up his mind to put laura bentley out of his inner thoughts, prescott did not write her as often as formerly. he wrote often enough, and pleasantly enough to preserve the courtesies of life. yet keen-witted belle meade was not long in discovering, from what laura thought were chance remarks, that dick was "dropping away" as a correspondent. so, too, laura's letters were fewer and briefer. "dick didn't really care for her, i guess," belle decided, almost vengefully. "then the bigger idiot he is, for there aren't many girls like laura born in any one century! but dick sees a good many girls at west point, and perhaps he has grown indifferent to his old friends. there are a good many very 'swell' girls who visit west point, too. horrors! i wonder if dick and greg think that we are too countrified?" after the first few weeks, with his resolute nature triumphing over anything that he set his mind to, prescott found himself thinking less about cameron. it was practically a settled matter, anyway, between laura and cameron, so dick thought, and cadet prescott had his greatly improved standing in his class to console him for any losses in other directions. yet dick would not have dared to confess, even to himself, how little class standing did console him. so hard had been study in the last few weeks that prescott had all but forgotten the existence of turnback haynes. they were not in the same section in any of the studies, nor did the two mingle at all in barracks life. neither went to the hops now, either. "is prescott afraid of me---or what?" wondered haynes. "perhaps he hopes i have forgotten him, but i haven't. one thing is clear he doesn't intend to do anything about that train incident, or he'd have done it long ago. if he thinks i have forgotten my dislike of him, he may be glad enough to have it just that way. bah, as if i could ever get over my dislike for a bootlick like prescott! i'd like to get him out of the army for good! i wonder if i can't, between now and june? i'd like my future in the army a whole lot better with prescott out of it." so haynes began taking to moody, lonely walks when he had any time for such outlet to his evil, feelings. it is one of the strangest freaks of queer human nature that one who has once done another an injury ever after hates the injured one with an added intensity of hatred. turnback haynes was quite able to convince himself that dick prescott, who avoided him, was really his worst enemy in the world. so, one saturday afternoon, in early april, it chanced that dick and cadet haynes took to the same stretch of less-traveled road over beyond engineers' quarters. suddenly, going in opposite directions, they met face to face at a sharp bend in the road. "oh, you?" remarked haynes, in a harsh, sneering voice. prescott barely nodded coldly, and would have passed on, but haynes stepped fairly in his path. "prescott," cried the turnback, "i don't like you!" "then we are about even in our estimate of each other," responded dick indifferently. "were you following me up, just now?" "why, as i have a memory, i might more properly suppose that you had been prowling on my trail," retorted dick, eyeing his enemy sternly. "humph! what do you mean by that?" demanded haynes bristling. "do you deny, haynes, that on the night when we were returning from the army-navy game you pushed me from the rear platform of the train?" cadet prescott spoke without visible excitement, but gazed deeply into the shifty, angry eyes of the other. haynes swallowed hard. then he replied gruffly: "no; i don't deny it." "why did you do that, haynes?" "i haven't admitted that i did do it." "you know that you did, though." "humph!" "why did you do it?" "i'll tell you, then," hissed the turnback. "it was because neither west point nor the army is going to be big enough for both of us!" "when do you intend to resign?" demanded prescott coolly "re-----" gasped haynes "resign? i?" then you imagine that i am going to quit, or that you're going to force me to do so? retorted prescott. "haynes, even up to this hour i have hesitated to believe the half evidence of my own eyes. i have tried to convince myself that no man who wears the honored gray of west point could do such a dastardly piece of work. and you have as good as admitted it to me." "well," sneered the turnback, what do you think you're going to do about it?" "if i knew," glared dick, "i wouldn't tell you until the time came." "it will never come," laughed haynes harshly. "that is, your time of triumph over me will never come. what else may happen it is yet a little too early to say." cadet prescott felt all the cold rage that was possible to him surging up inside. "haynes," he went on, "it may seem odd of me to ask a favor from you." "very odd, indeed!" sneered the turnback. "it is a very slight favor," continued prescott, "and it is this: don't at any time venture to address me, except upon official business." with that prescott stepped resolutely around the cadet in his path, and went forward at a stiff stride. haynes remained for some moments where he was, gazing after dick with a curious, leering look. "prescott is a coward---that's what he is!" muttered the turnback. "if he weren't, i said enough to him just now to cause him to leap at my throat. humph! anyone can beat a coward, and without credit. prescott, your days at the military academy are numbered! you, an army officer? humph!" though it would be hard to understand why, haynes felt much better after that brief interview. perhaps it was because, all along, he had feared cadet prescott. now the turnback no longer feared his enemy in the corps. how would the feud end? how could it end? chapter xix the traitor of the riding hall if dick gave no further outward attention to haynes, he was nevertheless bothered about the fellow. "haynes isn't fit to go through and become an officer; to be set up over other men," prescott told himself often. this slighting opinion was not on account of the personal dislike that prescott felt for the turnback. there were other cadets at west point whom dick did not exactly like, yet he respected the others, for they themselves respected the traditions of honor and justice that are a part of west point. with haynes the trouble was that he was certain, sooner or later, to prove a discredit to the best traditions of the army. such a fellow was likely to prove a bully over enlisted men. now, the enlisted men of the regular army do not resent having a strict officer set above them, but the officer must be a man whom they can respect. such an officer, who commands the respect and admiration of the enlisted men under him, can lead them into the most dangerous places. they will follow as a matter of course; but an unworthy officer, one whom the enlisted men know to be unfit to command them, will demoralize a company, a troop, a battery or a regiment if he be given power enough. every cadet and every officer of the army is concerned with the honor of that army. if he knows that an unworthy man is obtaining command, it worries the cadet or officer of honor. had he been able to offer legal, convincing proof of haynes's dastardly conduct in pushing him off the train on the return from the army-navy game, prescott would have submitted that proof to the authorities, or else to the members of the second class in class meeting. "but haynes would only lie out of it, of course," dick concluded. "as a cadet, his word would have to be accepted as being as good as mine. so nothing would come of the charges." a class meeting, unlike a court-martial, might not stand out for legal evidence, if the moral presumption of guilt were strong enough; but cadet prescott would not dream of invoking class action unless he had the most convincing proof to offer. class action, when it is invoked at west point, is often more effective than even the work of a court-martial. if the class calls upon a member to resign and return to civil life, he might as well do so without delay. if he does not, he will be "sent to coventry" by every other cadet in the corps. if he has the nerve to disregard this and graduate, he will go forth into the army only to meet a like fate at the hands of every officer in the service. he will always be "cut" as long as he attempts to wear the uniform. "its a shame to let this fellow haynes stay in the service," dick muttered. "and yet my hands are tied. with my lack of evidence i can't drag him before either a legal or an informal court. the only thing i can do is to let matters go on, trusting to the fact that, sooner or later, haynes will overstep the bounds less cautiously, and that he'll find himself driven out of the uniform." on going to his quarters for a study period one afternoon further along in april, haynes found himself unable to concentrate his mind on the lesson before him. he was alone, his roommate being absent with a section at recitation. as he sat thus idle at the study table, haynes toyed with a little black pin. how the pin had come into his possession he did not even recall. it was a pin of ordinary size, one of the kind much used by milliners. having nothing else to do, haynes idly thrust the head of the pin repeatedly in under the sole at the toe of his right boot. somewhat to his surprise the head went well in, then stopped at last, fitting snugly and stiffly in place. "if i had a fellow sitting in front of me, what a startling jab i could give him with the toe of my boot," grinned the turnback. then, suddenly, there came a very queer look into his face. "why, i reckon i could jab something else with a pin, beside the flesh of another cadet," he muttered. then, trembling slightly, the turnback bent down and carefully extracted the pin. his next act was to fasten it very securely on the inside of the front of his fatigue blouse, where the black uniform braid prevented its being seen. of late the second class cavalry drills had been in the open. that day, however, it was raining heavily, and the order had been passed for the squads to report at the riding hall. soon after haynes's roommate had returned from recitation the signal sounded for the squad that was to report at the riding hall. haynes rose, drawing on his uniform raincoat. "what's the matter with you, haynesy?" inquired his roommate. "why do you ask, pierson?" "there was a very queer look on your face," replied cadet pierson. i couldn't tell whether it were a diabolical look or merely a sardonic grin." "i was just thinking of a story i heard told years ago," lied haynes glibly. "i don't believe i'd care to hear that story, then," returned pierson dryly. "i'm not going to tell it to you. 'bye, old man. i'm off for riding drill." dick and greg were in the same squad. those who were going for drill at this hour fell in at the command, of their squad marcher, and strode away to the riding hall. once inside, the cadets disposed of their uniform raincoats. the squad marcher reported to captain albutt, who was their instructor for the afternoon. "to horse!" came the crisp order. each cadet stepped to his mount, untying the animal and standing by. haynes's heart gave a quick jump when he saw that to dick's lot had fallen satan, a fiery black, the worst tempered and most treacherous horse in the lot. "my chance is coming sooner than i had thought for", quivered the turnback. dropping his handkerchief, haynes bent over and quickly slipped the black pin in at the toe of his right boot. "when we get into column of fours i have prescott on my right, muttered the turnback. he had straightened up again, in almost no time, tucking the handkerchief again inside his blouse. his act had attracted no attention. "prepare to mount!" rang captain albutt's voice. each cadet took hold of mane, bridle and saddle in the way prescribed and stood with left foot in stirrup. "mount!" jauntily each man swung up, passing his right leg over his mounts back, then settling easily into saddle. for the first few minutes the squad walked, trotted, cantered and galloped around the tanbark in single file. then their instructor, riding always near the center of the floor, threw them into platoon front at the west end of the hall. now he gave them some general instruction as to the nature of the evolutions they were to perform. the next command came by bugle, and the platoon broke into column of fours, moving forward at the trot, captain albutt riding at the left flank near the head of the column. as the horses fell into column of fours haynes saw his chance. nearly always, in this formation, some of the horses bump their neighbors. haynes, by a slight twist of the bridle, threw horse over against prescott's. the thing was so natural as to attract no notice. just as the horses touched flanks, however, haynes, with his right foot swiftly withdrawn from its stirrup-box, gave satan a vicious jab with the pin-point protruding from the toe of his boot. there was a wild snort. satan seemed instantly bent on proving the appropriateness of his name. lowering his head, satan kicked out viciously with his hind feet, throwing the horses just behind into confusion. almost in the same instant satan bit the rump of a horse in front of him. then up reared prescotts mount. dick was a good horseman, but this move had caught him unawares. a horse at a trot is not usually hard to manage, and prescott had not been on his guard against any such trick. by the time that satan came down from his plunge dick had a firm seat and a strong hand on the bridle. but satan was a tough-mouthed animal. his unlooked-for antics had caused the horses just ahead to swerve. through the scattering four in front plunged satan, fire in his eyes, his nostrils quivering. captain albutt took the situation in at once. "squad halt!" he roared. be cool, mr. prescott! bring your mount down with tact, not brute force. satan, having taken the bit between his teeth, went tearing around the tan-bark, not in the least minding the tight hold that his rider had on the bridle, or the way that the bit cut into his mouth. satan blamed his own rider for that sharp, stinging jab, and he meant to unseat that rider. dick kept perfectly cool, though he realized much of his own great peril with this infuriated beast. captain albutt, watching closely, became anxious when he saw that the cadet was failing in bringing down the temper of the infuriated beast. satan was more than furious; he was crafty. master of many tricks, and with a record for injuring many a rider in the past, the animal dashed about the tan-bark, seeking some way of throwing his rider. his uneasiness increasing, captain albutt put spurs to his own mount and went after satan. "steady, mr. prescott," admonished the cavalry officer, riding close. i'll soon have a hand on your bridle, too. yet every time that captain albutt rode close, satan waited until just the right instant, then swerved violently, snatching his head away from the risk of capture. so villainous were these swerves that dick had several narrow escapes from being unhorsed. a man of less skill would have been. at first the other members of the squad looked on only with amused interest. when, however, they caught the grave look on the captain's face, they began to comprehend how serious the situation was. satan, finding other devices for throwing his rider to be useless, soon resorted to the most wicked trick known to the equine mind. he reared, intent on throwing himself over backward, crushing his rider beneath him. captain albutt reached the spot at a gallop, just in the nick of time. standing in his stirrups, he caught one side of the bridle just in time to pull the horse's head down. but, foiled in this attempt, satan allowed his front feet to come down. close to the ground the brute lowered its head, kicking up high with his hind heels. this, accompanied by a "worming" motion, sent prescott flying from his saddle. he made an unavoidable plunge over the animal's head. "let go your bridle!" roared captain albutt. in the same instant the cavalry officer leaped from his own saddle. over came cadet prescott, turning a somersault in the air. albutt had jumped in order to catch the cadet. it all happened so quickly, however, that the cavalry officer had chance only to catch the cadets shoulders. had it not been for that, prescott would have struck fully on his back. having thrown its rider, satan cantered off to the far end of the riding hall, where he stood, snorting defiance. captain albutt allowed prescott's head and shoulders to sink easily to the tan-bark. "are you badly hurt, mr. prescott?" inquired the officer. "the small of my back is paining me just a little sir, from the wrench," replied prescott coolly. "if it hadn't been for you, sir, my neck would have been broken." "i think it would," replied the cavalry officer, smiling. "but this is one of the things i am here for. do you feel as if you could rise, mr. prescott, with my help?" "i'd like to try, sir." dick did try, but watchful captain albutt soon let him down again. "you may not be much hurt, mr. prescott, but i want one of the medical officers to take the responsibility for saying so. just lie where you are until we get a medical officer here. mr. haynes, pass your lines to the man at your left and run to the telephone. ask for a medical officer and two hospital corps men with a stretcher." the turnback leaped quickly to obey. this gave him the coveted chance to get away by himself, where he could secretly remove from his boot the little black pin that had been responsible for this excitement. surgeon and hospital men came on the run. the surgeon declined to make an examination there, but directed his men to lift the injured cadet to the stretcher and take him to the hospital. in the meantime some enlisted men had caught and quieted satan, leading him from the tanbark. "that brute never will be used again, if i have my way," muttered captain albutt, loudly enough to be heard by most of the cadets of the squad. then the drill proceeded as though nothing had happened. "i fixed my man that time, and easily enough," growled haynes to himself. "he's out of the service, from now on. he can nurse a weak back the rest of his days." when the drill was dismissed a party of three ladies, who had seen the whole scene from one of the iron balconies, came down to meet the cavalry officer. "your conduct was just splendid, captain, cried one of the women, her face glowing. but i feared you would be killed, or at least badly hurt, when you put yourself in the way of that somersaulting cadet. why did you take such chances?" "in the first place," replied the cavalry officer quietly, "because it was simple duty. there was another reason. if i am hurt, in the line of duty, i have my retired pay, as an officer, to live on. but a cadet who is hurt so badly that he cannot remain in the service has to go home, perhaps hopelessly crippled for life---and a cadet injured in the line of duty has no retired pay." "why is that?" asked another of the ladies. "i do not know, replied captain albutt simply, unless it is because congress has always been too busy to think of the simple act of justice of providing proper retired pay for a cadet who is injured for life." "has mr. prescott been injured so that he'll have to leave the army?" "i don't know. but, if you'll excuse me, ladies, i am going over to the hospital now and find out." chapter xx the cadet hospital cadet prescott lay on one of the operating tables at cadet hospital. without a murmur he submitted to the examination. at times the work of the medical officer's hurt a good deal, but this was evidenced only by a firmer pressing together of the young soldiers lips. at last they paused. "are you through, gentlemen?" dick asked, looking steadily at the two medical officers. "yes," answered captain goodwin, the senior surgeon. "may i properly ask what you find?" "we are not yet quite sure," replied the senior surgeon. "none of the bones of the spine are broken. there has, of course, been a severe wrenching there. whether your injury is going to continue into a serious or permanent injury we cannot yet say. a good deal will depend upon the grit with which you face things." "i am a soldier," replied dick doggedly. "even if i am not much longer to be one." "we will now have you removed to your cot. we are not going to place you in a cast as yet, anyway. it is possible that, after a few days, you may be able to walk fairly well." "in that case, captain, is it then likely that i shall be able to return to duty?" "yes; the quicker things mend, and the sooner you are able to walk without help, the greater will be your chance of pulling through this injury and remaining in the service." "then i'd like to try walking back to barracks right now," smiled cadet prescott, wistfully. "you are not to think of it, mr. prescott! you must not even attempt to put a foot out of bed until we give you permission. if you take the slightest risk of further injury to your back you are likely to settle your case for good and all, so far as the army is concerned." "i told you i was a soldier, sir," dick replied promptly. "for that reason i shall obey orders." "good! that's the way to talk, mr. prescott," replied the senior medical officer heartily. "the better soldier you are, the better your chances are of remaining in the army." "there won't be any need, will there, captain, to send word to my father and mother of this accident until it is better known how serious it is?" coaxed dick. "if you wish the news withheld for the present, i will direct the adjutant to respect your wishes." "if you will be so good, sir," begged the hapless cadet. hospital men were summoned and dick was skillfully, tenderly transferred to a cot in another room. the steward stood by and took his orders silently from captain goodwin. hardly had this much been accomplished when a hospital service man entered, passing a card to captain goodwin. "admit him," nodded the surgeon. in another minute captain albutt stepped into the room, going over to the cot and resting one of his hands over the cadet's right hand. "how are you feeling?" asked captain albutt. "fine, sir, thank you," replied dick cheerily. "i'm glad your pluck is up. and i hear that you have a good chance." "i hope so, sir, with all my heart. the army means everything in life to me, sir. and captain albutt, i want to thank you for your splendid conduct in risking your own life to save me." "surely, prescott," replied the captain quietly, "you know the spirit of the service better than to thank a soldier for doing his duty." captain albutt had called him simply "prescott," dropping the "mister," which officers are usually so careful to prefix to a cadet's name when addressing him. this little circumstance, slight as it was, cheered the cadet's heart. it was a tactful way of dropping all difference in rank, and of admitting prescott to full-fledged fraternity in the army. "i shall inquire after you every day, prescott, and be delighted when you can be admitted to the riding work again;" said the captain in leaving. "and i think you need have no fear of seeing satan on the tan-bark again. if i have any influence, that beast will never be assigned to a cadet's use after this." when captain albutt had gone greg came in, on tiptoe. "out the soft pedal, old chap," smiled dick cheerily, as their hands met. "i'm not a badly hurt man. the worst of this is that it keeps me from recitations for a few days. if it weren't for that, i'd enjoy lying here at my ease, with no need to bother about reveille or taps." greg's manner was light-hearted and easy. he had come to cheer up his chum, but found there was no need for it. then the superintendent's adjutant dropped in on his way home from the day in the office at headquarters. having talked with captain goodwin, the adjutant agreed that there was no need, for a few days, to notify prescott's parents and cause them uneasiness. "we'll hope, mr. prescott," smiled the adjutant, "that you'll be well able to sit up and send them the first word of the affair in your own hand, coupled with the information that you're out of all danger." had it not been for his natural courage, cadet prescott would have been a very restless and "blue" young man. he knew, as well as did anyone else, that the chances of his complete recovery to sound enough condition for future army service were wholly in the balance. but captain goodwin had impressed upon him that good spirits would have a lot to do with his chances. so strong was his will that prescott was actually almost light-hearted when it came around time to eat his evening meal of "thin slops." over in cadet barracks interest ran at full height. greg had to receive scores of cadets who dropped in to inquire for the best word. one of the last of these to come was cadet haynes. greg received him rather frigidly, though with no open breach of courtesy. "it's too bad," began haynes. "of course it is," nodded holmes. "prescott has very little chance of remaining in the corps, i suppose?" "the surgeons don't quite say that," rejoined greg. "oh, the rainmakers (doctors) are always cagey about giving real information until a man's dead," declared the turnback sagely. "they seem to believe that prescott has an excellent chance," insisted greg. "no bones broken?" "not a one." "what is the trouble, then?" "the rainmakers can't say exactly. they're waiting and watching." "humph! that sounds pretty bad for their patient." "they say that if prescott is able to walk soon, then his return to duty ought to be rather speedy." "i'd like to believe the rainmakers," grunted haynes. "would you?" inquired greg very coolly. "of course." "what is your particular interest in my roommate?" demanded cadet holmes. he looked straight into the other's eyes. "why, prescott is one of the best and most popular fellows in the class. i've always liked him immensely, and-----" "humph!" broke in cadet holmes, using the turnback's own favorite word. to just what this scene might have led it is impossible to say, but just at that instant anstey and two other second classmen came into the room, and the turnback seized the opportunity to get away. though cadet prescott was so cheerful over his injury he was in a good deal of pain as the evening wore on. every hour or so goodwin or the other surgeon came in to see him. though prescott could hardly be expected to understand it, the surgeons were pleased, on the whole, with the pain. had there been numbness, instead, the surgeons would have looked for paralysis. later in the night dick asked captain goodwin if he could not administer some light opiate. "you are willing to be a soldier, i know, mr. prescott," replied the surgeon. "be sure of that, sir," replied the young man, wincing. "then try to bear the pain. it is the best indication with which we have to deal. it is one of the most hopeful symptoms for which we could look. besides, your descriptions of the pain, and of its locality, if you are accurate, will give us our best indication of what to do for you." "then i don't want any opiate, sir," replied dick bluntly. "i don't care whether i'm kept here a day or a year, or what i have to suffer, only as long as i don't have to lose an active career in the service!" "good for you, my young soldier," beamed the surgeon, patting the cadet's hand. "the superintendent telephoned over, a little while ago, to ask how you were. i told him that your grit was the best we had seen here in a long time." "thank you, sir." "and the superintendent replied, dryly enough, that he expected that from your general record. the superintendent sent you his personal regards." "thank you, sir, and the superintendent, too." "oh, and a lot of others have been inquiring about you, too---the k.c. and all of the professors and most of the instructors. and at least a small regiment of cadets have tramped down as far as the office door also. i've been saving the names of inquirers, and will tell you the names in the morning. all except the names of the cadets, that is. there was too big a mob of cadets for us to attempt to keep the names." it was a painful, restless, feverish night for prescott. he slept a part of the time, though when he did his sleep was filled with nightmares. the surgeons won his gratitude by their devotion to his interests. the first half of the night captain goodwin was in at least every hour. the latter half of the night it was lieutenant sadtler who made the round. by permission cadet holmes came to the hospital office just after breakfast. it was a gloomy face that poor greg wore back to barracks with him. the surgeons had spoken hopefully, but--"brains always work better than brute force," haynes told himself, struggling hard to preserve his self-esteem. chapter xxi the man moving in a dark room may came, and, with the gorgeous blossoms of that month, dick prescott left the hospital. he was able to walk fairly well, and was returned to study and recitations, though excused from all drills or any form of military duty. not quite all the old erectness of carriage was there, though dick hoped and prayed daily that it would return. he had been cautioned to take the best of care of himself. he had been warned that he was still on probation, so far as his physical condition was concerned. "a sudden bad wrench, and you might undo all that has been done for you so far," was the surgeons' hint. so prescott, though permitted to march with his sections to recitations, and to fall in at the meal formations, was far from feeling reassured as to his ability to remain in the service. he was to have a physical examination after the academic year was finished, and other examinations, if needed, during the summer encampment. and well enough the young man knew this meant that, if he was found to be permanently disqualified in body, he would be dropped from the cadet corps as soon as the decision was reached. "do you know," muttered greg vengefully, "haynes had the cheek to come here and ask after you?" "did he?" inquired dick. "yes; he pretended to be sorry about your accident." "perhaps he really was," returned prescott. "what? after his trick in pushing you from the train?" "i hope he has lived to regret that," said dick quietly. "you're not quite a lunatic, old ramrod, are you?" asked greg wonderingly. "oh, i've heard of fellows being bad, and then afterward repenting," murmured dick. "perhaps this has been the case with haynes. you see, greg, lying there in hospital, day after day, i had time to do a lot of thinking. perhaps i learned to be just a trifle less severe in judging other fellows." anstey visited as often as he could. he and greg did all they could to coach prescott over the hard work that he had missed. "there isn't going to be anything in the academic work to bother you," promised anstey. "you'll have lots of chance to pull through in the general review." "it's only the physical side of the case that gives me any uneasiness," replied dick. "and i'm not worrying about that, either." "i should say not, suh!" replied the virginian with emphasis. "i had a chance to talk with captain goodwin, one day, without being too fresh, and he told me, old ramrod, that your work in athletics did a lot to save your back from faring worse. he said you were built with unusual strength in the back, and that many a hard tug in the football scrimmages had made you strong where you most need to be strong now." "now let's get back to work with our old ramrod, anstey," cautioned greg. "surely, suh, with all my heart," nodded anstey. "but by day after to-morrow he'll have caught up with us, and be coaching us along for the general review." the hard work that dick had done through march and in early april now stood him in excellent stead. he had, really, only to make sure of the work that he had missed while at hospital. as to reviewing the earlier work of the second term, there was not the slightest need. by the time that the general review was half through it was plain enough that dick prescott's class standing was going to be better than it had ever been before. in fact, he was slated to make the middle of this class. "i'll be above the middle of the class next year, if the fates allow me to remain on with the corps," dick promised himself and his friends. "oh, you'll be in the army, suh, until you're retired for age, suh," predicted anstey with great gravity. the latter part of may passed swiftly for the busy cadets. the first class men were dreaming of their commissions in the more real army beyond west point; the present third classmen were looking forward with intense longing to the furlough that would begin as soon as they had stepped over the line into the second class. the new plebes were looking forward to summer encampment with a mixture of longing and dread---the latter emotion on account of the hazing that might come to them in the life under the khaki-colored canvas. as the days slipped by, prescott began to have more and more of his old, firm step. he began to feel sure, too, that the surgeons would have no more fault to find with his condition. "why, i could ride a horse in fine shape to-day," declared prescott, on one of the last days in may. "could you?" demanded cadet holmes quizzically. "perhaps i had better amend that bit of brag," laughed dick. "what i meant was that i could ride as well, to-day, as i ever did." "don't be in a hurry to try it, old ramrod," advised greg with a frown. "be satisfied that you're doing well enough as it is. don't be in a hurry to joggle up a spine that has had about as much as it could stand." "i'll bet you i ride in the exhibition riding before the board of visitors," proposed prescott earnestly. "i shall be mightily disappointed in your judgment if you attempt it without first having received a positive order," retorted greg. "don't be a chump, old ramrod." the exhibition before the board of visitors to which dick had referred is one of the annual features of west point life. the board is appointed by the president of the united states. the board goes to west point a few days before graduation and thoroughly "inspects" the academy and all its workings. the board of visitors impressively attends graduation exercises. afterwards the board writes its report on the military academy, and suggests anything that occurs to the members as being an improvement on the way things are being already conducted by army officers who know their business. one man in the second class was going badly to pieces in these closing days of the academic year. 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. "what do you mean?" demanded haynes, with the pallor of guilt on his face for a moment. "why, you always look so confoundedly ragged when you get up mornings. you used to wake up looking fresh and rosy. now, you look like the ghost of an evil deed." "huh!" growled haynes, plunging his hands into the water. "i'm all right." "i wish i could believe you!" muttered the puzzled pierson under his breath. "it's near time to get prescott, if i'm going to," haynes told himself a dozen times a day. in fact, the matter preyed so constantly on his mind that the turnback walked through each day in a perpetual though subdued state of nervous fever. the next night pierson awoke with a start. at first the cadet couldn't understand why he should feel so creepy. he was a good sleeper, and there had been no noise. hadn't there, though? it came again. and now cadet pierson rubbed his eyes and half rose on his cot, leaning his head on one hand. now, with intense interest, he watched the proceedings of his roommate, turnback haynes, who was up and moving stealthily about the room, every action being clearly revealed in the bright moonlight that was streaming through the windows. chapter xxii the row in the riding detachment "wow, what on earth is the fellow doing?" muttered the puzzled pierson. haynes had gone over to his fatigue blouse, the left front of which he was examining very closely. then the turnback began to mutter indistinctly. "why, haynesy is walking and talking in his sleep!" decided pierson. "queer! i never knew him to do anything like that before. he must have something on his mind." pierson had read, somewhere, that it is never wise to disturb a sleepwalker, there being a risk that the sleepwalker, if aroused too suddenly, may suffer collapse from fright. "i wonder what on earth old haynesy can have on his mind?" pondered pierson. "oh, well, whatever it is, it is no business of mine." with that pierson let his head return to his pillow. "that did the trick for prescott---ha! ha!" muttered the turnback. "what on earth did the trick, and what trick was it?" muttered watching pierson, curious despite the admitted fact that it was all none of his business. after a few moments more haynes went back to his cot, pulled the sheet and a single blanket up over him, and became quiet. "it wouldn't do any good to ask haynesy anything about this," decided pierson. "he won't remember anything about it in the morning." so pierson went to sleep again. when he awoke in the morning he was more than half inclined to believe that he had dreamed it all. the general reviews were drawing toward their close. in two studies haynes was making a poor showing, though he believed that he would pass. riding drills were being held daily now. preparations were being made for the stirring exhibition of cavalry work that was to be shown before the board of visitors. on the afternoon of the day before the visitors were due, greg started up at the call for cavalry drill. so did dick. "where are you going?" challenged cadet holmes. "to cavalry drill," responded cadet prescott. "who said you could?" "the k.c. for one; captain albutt for another." greg looked, as he felt, aghast at the idea, but he managed to blurt out: "what about the rainmakers?" "captain goodwin has examined me again." "surely, he doesn't approve of your riding yet, dick?" "he didn't say whether he did or not." "then-----" "but he certified that i was fit to ride." "dick, you didn't have to do this-----" "no; but i want to be restored to full duty. captain albutt has informed me that the horse assigned to me will be a dependable, tractable animal, and i shall be on my guard and use my head." "i don't like this," muttered greg, as he fastened on his leggings. "i didn't suppose you would, so i didn't tell you anything about it." by the time that the second call sounded both young men were prepared, and joined the stream of cadets pouring out of barracks. other cadets than greg expressed their astonishment when they saw prescott in the detachment. "is this wise, old ramrod?" asked anstey anxiously. "a soldier shouldn't play baby forever," returned dick. "and i have permission, or i wouldn't be here." "i don't like it," muttered anstey. furlong, griffin and dobbs all had something to say. haynes didn't let a word escape him, but his eyes lighted with evil joy. "now, i can finish the job, i guess," throbbed the evil one. the detachment to which prescott and some of his friends belonged was formed and marched through one of the sally-ports. just beyond, a corporal and a squad of men from the regular army cavalry sat in saddle. each enlisted man held the bridle of another horse than the one he rode. as the corporal dismounted his men, the cadets, at the word from their marcher, moved forward and took their mounts. at the command, the detachment rode forward, by twos, at a walk, down the road that led to the cavalry drill ground below the old south gate. it was greg who rode beside his chum. in the drill, later, when in platoon front or column of fours, it would be haynes who would ride on dick's left. the turnback had already made sure that his useful black pin was securely fastened inside his fatigue blouse. arrived at the drill ground, the cadets dismounted, standing by their horses in a little group until captain albutt should ride out of one of the cavalry stables and take command. haynes, with a rapid throbbing of his pulses, bent forward and down, pretending to examine his horse's nigh forefoot. as he did so, with an expertness gained of practice, haynes slipped the head of the black pin in under the front of the sole of his right boot. then he straightened up again, chatting with pierson. "i say, haynes," drawled anstey, a few moments later, glancing at the turnback's right foot, "that's a dangerous-looking thing you have in your boot." "what's that?" demanded haynes, losing color somewhat, yet pretending to be surprised. "that long pin, sticking out of the front of your right boot," continued anstey, pointing. haynes glanced down, saw the thing, and pretended to be greatly astonished. "how did i get that thing in my shoe?" he cried. then, with an appearance of indolent indifference that was rather overdone, the turnback stooped low enough to extract the pin. but his fingers trembled in the act, and half a dozen cadets noted the fact. "that's a reckless bit of business, haynes," continued anstey in a voice that did not appear to be accusing. "reckless?" gasped greg holmes. "it's criminal!" "what do you mean?" demanded haynes, straightening himself and glaring coldly into holmes's eyes. but greg was one of the last fellows in the world to permit himself to be "frozen." "i mean what i say, haynes," he retorted plumply. "with that thing in the toe of your boot something would be likely to happen when some other horse's flank bumped you on the right. and, by george, it's prescott who rides at your right in platoon or column of fours!" greg shot a look full of keen suspicion at the turnback. "and it was prescott who rode on your right the day he was thrown from satan!" flashed greg, his face going white from the depth of his sudden feeling. "haynes, did you have that pin in the toe of your boot the day that prescott was thrown in the riding hall?" "you-----" haynes began, at white heat, clenching his free fist. "answer me!" broke in greg insistently. "i did not!" "i don't believe you!" shot back cadet holmes "confound you, sir, do you mean to call me a liar?" hissed the turnback. "yes!" replied greg promptly. haynes dropped his bridle, stepping toward greg holmes, who, however, neither flinched nor looked worried. "hold my lines, dobbs," urged pierson, passing his bridle over to a fellow classman. then pierson sprang in front of greg, facing his roommate. "softly, haynes!" cried pierson warningly. "what is this to you?" demanded the turnback hotly. "i am under the impression," replied pierson, "that this is not a personal matter so much as it is a class affair." but haynes, feeling that he was almost cornered, became reckless and desperate. "this is a personal matter, pierson. stand aside until i knock that cur down." "from any other man in the detachment," spoke greg bitterly, "i would regard the use of that word an insult. haynes, if you hit me, i shall knock you clean into the hudson river. but i will not accept any challenge to fight until the class has passed on this matter." "the class has nothing to do with it," insisted haynes. "i think the class has," broke in pierson. "when the time comes i shall have considerable to say." "then say it now!" commanded haynes, glaring at his roommate. "i will," nodded pierson. "the other night, haynes, i was awakened to find you walking about the room in your sleep. you also talked in your sleep. at the time i could make nothing of it all. now, i think i understand." then cadet pierson swiftly recounted what he had seen and what he had heard that night in the room. "you were fingering something on the left front of your blouse, and while doing so, you made the distinct remark that this was what had done the trick for prescott," charged pierson. "i did not see what it was that you were fingering, but the next day, the first chance i got, i, too, examined the left front of your blouse. i found a small, black pin fastened there. it has been fastened there every time since when i have had a chance to look at your fatigue blouse hanging on the wall." "i am not responsible for what i say when i'm sleepwalking," cried haynes in a rage. "and, besides, pierson, you're lying." "i'll wager that not a man here believes i'm lying," retorted pierson coolly. "no, no! you're no liar, pierson!" cried a dozen men at once. "is there a black pin inside your blouse at this moment?" challenged greg. "none of your business," cried the turnback hoarsely. "i demand that you show up, or stand accused," insisted cadet holmes. "i'll show up nothing, or take any orders from anyone who tries to lie my good name away," retorted haynes. "but at least two of you will have to fight me mighty soon." "i won't fight you," retorted greg bluntly, "until the class declares you to be a man fit to fight with." "nor i, either," rejoined pierson decisively. "stand aside, you hound, and let me get at that cur behind you!" cried haynes hoarsely. "attention!" called the detachment marcher formally. "the instructor for the day!" captain albutt rode out of the nearest cavalry stable, mounted on his own pure white horse. at the order of the marcher each cadet fell back to the lines of his own mount. when captain albutt reached the detachment he saw nothing to indicate the disturbance that had just occurred. chapter xxiii the decree of "coventry" "prepare to mount! mount!" some preliminary commands of drill were executed. then the serious work of the hour began. never had captain albutt commanded at a better bit of cavalry work than was done this afternoon by members of the first and second classes. the wheelings, the facings and all the manoeuvres at the different gaits were executed with precision and dash. all the movements in troop and squadron were carried out to perfection. to the instructor, it was plain that the most perfect esprit de corps existed. the cadets were acting with a singleness and devotedness of purpose which showed plainly that the perfect trooper was the sole subject of thought in their minds. at least, so the instructor thought, from the results obtained. even haynes's face was inexpressive as he rode. greg was as jaunty as though he had not an unkind thought toward anyone in the world. cadet prescott did not betray a sign of any thought save to do his duty perfectly. yet, every time that his horse was brought close to haynes's, prescott had his eyes open for any foul play that might be attempted by the turnback. "if the young men do as splendidly to-morrow before the board of visitors," thought captain albutt, "i shall feel that my year of work here has been a grand success. jove, what a born trooper everyone of these young fellows seems to be!" at last the drill was finished. in detachments, the young cadet troopers returned to the road between the administration building and the academic building. here each detachment dismounted, surrendered its horses to a waiting detail of enlisted cavalrymen, and then marched in to barracks. as soon as the young men had removed their riding leggings, and the dust from their uniforms, most of them descended into the quadrangle. haynes reached his room just an instant behind pierson. "see here, pierson, you cad, what did you-----" "oh, shut up!" replied pierson, with a weary sigh. "don't you speak to me like that, sir!" cried haynes warningly, as he stepped over to where his roommate was busy with a clothes brush. "i don't want to talk with you at all," retorted pierson. "you'll talk to me a lot, or you'll answer with your fists!" "fight with you? bah!" growled the other man in disgust. "you cad, you deliberately li-----" but pierson, having put his brush away, turned on his heel and left the room. haynes paused for an instant, his face white with a new dread. a cadet stands low, indeed, when another cadet will not resent being called a liar by him. "this has kicked up an awful row against me, i guess," muttered the turnback, as he hastily cleaned himself. "i must get down into the quadrangle, mix with the fellows and set myself straight." full of this purpose, for he was not lacking in a certain quality of nerve and courage, haynes went down to the quadrangle. "i am afraid a good deal of feeling was aroused this afternoon, furlong," began the turnback. then he gulped, clenched his fists and lost color, for cadet furlong, without a word, had turned on his heel and walked away. "griffin, what does fur-----" cadet griffin, too, turned on his heel, passing on. "dobbs-----" it was dobbs's turn to show his back and stroll away. "what the deuce has got into them all?" wondered haynes, though his heart sank, for, much as he wanted to ignore the meaning, it was becoming plain to him. another cadet was passing along the walk. to him haynes turned with an appealing face. "lewis," began the turnback, "i am afraid i shall have to ask you-----" whatever it was, lewis did not wait to hear. he looked at haynes as though he saw nothing there, and joined a little group of cadets beyond. "confound these puppies!" growled haynes to himself. "they're all fellows that i hazed when they were plebes, and they haven't forgiven me. i see clearly enough that, if i am to have an explanation, or get a chance to make one, i must do it through the members of my old class." some distance down the quadrangle stood brayton and spurlock, first classmen and captains in the cadet battalion. "they're high-minded, decent fellows," said haynes to himself. "i will go to them and get this nasty business set straight." past several groups of cadets stalked haynes, affecting not to see any of the fellows. but these cadets appeared equally indifferent to being recognized. brayton and spurlock were talking in low tones when the turnback approached them. "brayton," began haynes, "i want to ask you to do me a bit of a favor." brayton did not stop his conversation with spurlock, nor did he show any other sign of having heard the turnback. "brayton! i beg your pardon!" but the first classman did not turn. "spurlock," asked haynes, in a thick voice, "are you in this tommy-rot business, too?" spurlock, however, seemed equally deaf. "then see here, both of you-----" insisted haynes, choking with anger. the two first classmen turned their backs, walking slowly off. there was no chance to doubt the fate that had overtaken him. haynes had been "sent to coventry." henceforth, as long as he remained in the corps of cadets, he was to be "cut." no other cadet could or would speak to him, under the same penalty of also being sent to coventry. henceforth the only speech that any cadet would have with him would be a necessary communication on official business. socially there was no longer any cadet haynes at west point. once, two years before, haynes had helped to put this punishment on a plebe, who had soon after quitted the academy. then haynes had thought that sending another to coventry was, under some circumstances, a fine proceeding. but now the like fate had befallen him! "the fellows don't really mean it. they're excited now, but to-morrow they'll be sorry and call the whole foolishness off," thought the "cut" man, trying hard to swallow the obstinate lump that rose in his throat. in the quadrangle, mostly in groups, were fully two hundred cadets. but not one of these young men would address a word to the exposed turnback. "there's one satisfaction, anyway," thought haynes savagely, as he walked blindly back toward the door of his own subdivision in barracks, "i can take it all out on the plebes!" just as he was going up the steps haynes encountered a plebe coming out. "here, mister!" growled haynes. "swing around with you! at attention, sir! what's your name, mister?" but the plebe did not even pause. he did not avert his head, but he took no pains to look at haynes, merely passing the turnback and gaining the quadrangle below. now the utter despair of his position came over haynes. how suddenly it had come! and even haynes, with his four years at west point, could hardly realize how the coventry had been pronounced and carried out in so very few minutes after release from cavalry drill. tears of rage and humiliation in his eyes, haynes stumbled to his room. once inside he shunned the window, but stumbled to his chair at the study table, and sank down, his face buried in his arms. "oh, i'll make somebody suffer for this!" he growled. out in the quadrangle, now that the turnback was gone, the main theme of conversation was the discovery and exposure of the afternoon. pierson was requested to repeat his statement to a large group of first and second classmen. "i don't believe a man could get a pin stuck into the toe of his boot accidentally, in the way that haynes had his pin arranged," declared brayton. "has one of you fellows a pin to lend me?" a pin being passed, brayton sat down on a convenient step and tried to adjust the pin between the sole and the upper of the toe of his boot. "i can force it in a little way," admitted brayton, "but see how the pin wobbles. it would fall out if i moved my foot hard. some of the rest of you try it." other cadets repeated the experiment. "i'll tell you, fellows," said spurlock at last; "a fellow couldn't accidentally get a pin in that position, and hold it firm there. but i know that, after repeated trying, and working to fit the pin, i could finally get matters so that i could quickly fit a pin that would hold in place and be effective." "of course," nodded lewis. "it can be done, but only by design." "and that was the very way that prescott's horse was enraged, so that old ramrod got his awful tumble!" exclaimed greg bitterly. "you believe, now, that the whole thing was a dirty, deliberate trick, don't you?" asked spurlock of prescott. "i am pretty sure it must have been," nodded dick. "then," declared brayton, "the whole thing is something for you second classmen to settle among yourselves. in the first place, it is your own class affair. in the next place, we men of the first class are practically out of the military academy already. it will do the first class no good to take any action, because we shall not be here to carry out any decree." "you can advise us, though," suggested holmes. "and we'll do so gladly," nodded brayton. "then do we need to hold a class meeting, and vote to make the coventry permanent?" "hardly, i should say," replied brayton. "you've already started the cut, and it can be continued without any regular action---unless haynes should have the cheek to try to brazen it out. if he does insist on staying here at the military academy, you can easily take up the matter during the summer encampment." "it would seem rather strange for me to call a class meeting, when the whole affair concerns me," suggested dick. "oh, you don't need to call the meeting, old ramrod," advised spurlock. "a self-appointed committee of the class can call the meeting. you can open the meeting, of course, prescott, and then you can call any other member of the class to take the chair." "i wonder if it will be necessary to drum the fellow out of the class formally?" asked anstey. "only time can show you that," replied brayton. "better just wait and see what action the fellow haynes will take for himself. he may have the sense to resign." resign? that word was not in haynes's own dictionary of conduct. after his first few moments of despair, on gaining his room, the turnback had risen from his chair, his face showing a courage and resolution worthy of a better cause. "those idiots may think they have 'got' me," he muttered, shaking his fist toward the quadrangle. "one of these days they'll know me better! i'll make life miserable for some of those pups yet!" just before it was time for the call to dress parade pierson came hurrying into the room to hasten into his full-dress uniform. haynes, already dressed with scrupulous care, looked curiously at his roommate. but pierson did not appear to see him. haynes stepped over to the window, drumming listlessly on the sill. at length he turned around. "pierson," he asked, "have the fellows sent me to coventry?" "you don't need to ask that," replied the other coldly. "is it because of prescott?" "yes. and now, will you stop bothering me with the sound of your voice?" "pierson, you know, when a fellow is cut by the corps, his roommate is not required to avoid conversation with the unlucky one." "i know that," replied pierson coldly. "but i've had all i want of you and from you. except when it is absolutely necessary i shall not answer or address you hereafter." "how long am i to stay in coventry?" pierson acted as though he did not bear. "has formal action been taken, or is this just a flash of prejudice, pierson?" no answer. "humph!" the call to form and march on to the parade ground was sounding. snatching up his rifle, haynes stepped out and joined the others. haynes did not receive even as much as a cold glance. "i'm less than a bit of mud to them!" thought the turnback bitterly. "these fellows would step around a patch of mud, just to avoid dirtying their shoes." it was a relief to hear the command to fall in. haynes felt still better when the battalion stepped away at its rhythmic step. he did not have to look at any of his contemptuous comrades now, nor did he need a word from them. somehow, though in a daze, the turnback got through dress parade without reproof from any of the watchful cadet officers. then, almost immediately after dress parade, came the hardest ordeal of all. once more, this time in fatigue uniform, the turnback had to fall in at supper formation. with the rest he marched away to cadet mess ball, found his place at table and occupied it. during the meal merry conversation ran riot around the tables. haynes was the only man among the gray-clad cadets who was left absolutely alone. after supper, while pierson lounged outside, haynes went back to his room. pacing the floor in his deep misery and agitation, he took this vow to himself: "i won't let myself be driven from the military academy! no matter what these idiots try to do to me---no matter what indignities they may heap upon me, i'll keep silent and fight my way through the military academy! i will receive my commission, and go into the army. but that fellow prescott shall never become an officer in the army, no matter what i have to risk to stop him!" chapter xxiv conclusion for most of the young men at west point the academic year now came swiftly and joyously to an end. true, some score and a half of plebes were found deficient, and sent back to their homes. the same thing happened to a few of the third classmen. all of the members of the first class succeeded in passing and in graduating into the army. the poor plebes who had failed had been mournfully departing, one at a time. these unhappy, doleful young men felt strangely uncouth in the citizens' clothes that they had regained from the cadet stores. yet everyone of these plebes received many a handshake from the upper classmen and a hearty good wish for success in life. more doleful still felt the dropped third classmen, who had been at the military academy for two years, and who had thoroughly expected to "get through" into the army somehow. it was now a little before the time when cadets must hasten to quarters to attire themselves for dress parade. several score of cadets still lingered in the quadrangle when greg holmes and pierson suddenly appeared, heading straight for one of the largest groups, in which dick prescott stood. "heard any news lately?" asked greg, a pleased twinkle in his eyes. "nothing startling. we've been supplying new, dry handkerchiefs to the poor, late plebes," answered brayton. "haven't heard about that fellow haynes?" asked greg. "nothing," admitted brayton. "well, you see," exclaimed pierson, "haynes made up his mind to disregard the grand cut. he determined to stick it out, anyway, even for a whole year." "he'll have a sweet time of it, then," put in spurlock dryly. "i never heard of a fellow who got the general cut lasting a whole year here before." "that was haynes's decision, anyway," went on pierson. "this is no guess work. the fellow told me so himself." "i reckon, suh, maybe we'll be able to change his mind," drawled anstey. "no you won't," broke in greg decisively. "haynes got in bad on the last two days of general review. chemistry and spanish verbs threw him. so he was ordered up for a writ (written examination) in both subjects. he fessed frozen on both of them. he applied for a new examination in a fortnight, but the fact that haynes was already a turnback went against him." "he's `found,' eh?" questioned brayton, smiling gleefully. "dropped," nodded pierson. "fired!" added greg, with a look of satisfaction. "there's no getting around the truth of the old superstition, fellows!" the "old superstition" to which holmes referred is one intensely believed in the cadet corps. while there is nothing whatever to prevent a sneak from being admitted to the united states military academy, the cadets believe firmly that a dishonorable fellow is bound to be caught, before he graduates, and that he will be kicked promptly out of the service by one means or another. "has the fellow gone yet?" inquired spurlock. "he'll slip away while the rest of us are away at dress parade, i guess," responded pierson. "haynes is in cit. clothes already, and is just fussing around a bit." "he must feel fine!" muttered brayton musingly. "i could almost say `poor fellow.'" "so could i," agreed prescott, with a good deal of feeling. "it would break my heart to be compelled to leave the corps, except at graduation, so i can imagine how any other fellow must feel." "oh, well, he'd never be happy in the army, anyway," replied spurlock. "out in the army the other officers can take care of a dishonorable comrade even more effectively than we do." "what made haynes fess out, i wonder?" pondered brayton aloud. "being sent to coventry got on his nerves so that he couldn't pull up enough at review and the writs," replied pierson. "he wasn't one of the bright men, anyway, in the section rooms." "by jove, suh! there's the fellow now!" muttered anstey. the others turned slightly to see haynes, out of the gray uniform that he had disgraced, wearing old cit. clothes and carrying a suit case, step out and cross the quadrangle to the office of the k.c. a few minutes later, haynes came out of the cadet guard house. knowing that he would never have the ordeal to face again, haynes summoned all his "brass" to the surface and stepped down the length of the quadrangle. he passed many groups of curious cadets, none of whom, however, sent a look or a word to him. then on out through the east sally-port strode haynes. on the sidewalk beyond, he passed captain albutt. haynes did not salute the officer; he didn't have to. even had haynes saluted, captain albutt could not have returned this military courtesy, for haynes was no longer a member of the american military establishment. * * * * * * * on the afternoon of the day following the graduating exercises came to a brilliant finish at cullum hall. brayton, spurlock and their classmates were honorably through with west point, their new careers about to open before them. cadet dick prescott came forth from the exercises, a look of radiant happiness on his face. he had been ordered before a board of surgeons that morning. just as a formality he was to go before a medical board again in august. "but that's only a piece of red tape," captain goodwin had explained to him. "by wonderful good luck, or rather, no doubt, thanks to captain albutt's gallantry, your spine is now as sound as ever. come before us in august, but i can tell you now that the august verdict will be o.k." "my, but you look like the favorite uncle of the candy kid!" muttered greg, as the two chums in gray strode along together. "why shouldn't i?" retorted dick. "my spine is all right, and i'm to stay in the service. then besides, greg, old fellow, think what we are now." "well, what are we?" asked greg. "first classmen! only a year more, greg, to the glorious old army! think of it, boy! in blue, in a year, and wearing shoulder-straps!" "i wish we had just graduated, like brayton, spurlock and the rest," muttered greg. "you want to rush things, don't you, lad?" "but dick, you see," murmured holmes, "a cadet can't marry." "oh, still harping on miss number three?" laughed his chum. "number---thr-----" stammered greg. "you don't mean to say that it is all off with miss number three?" "oh, yes; months ago." "she broke the engagement?" "yes," admitted holmes. "but i don't care." "what's the present girl's number?" teased dick. "five," confessed greg with desperate candor. "but this girl, dick, is worth all the others. and she'll stick. after all, it's only a year, now, that she'll have to wait." at this point, however, we find dick and greg to be first classmen. so their further adventures are necessarily reserved for the next and concluding volume in this series, which will be published under the title, "_dick prescott's fourth year at west point; or, ready to drop the gray for shoulder straps_." all we need to tell the reader is that this coming volume will contain the most rousing story of all in the _west point series_. the end dick prescott's fourth year at west point or ready to drop the gray for shoulder straps by h. irving hancock contents chapters i. dick reports a brother cadet ii. jordan reaches out for revenge iii. catching a man for breach of "con." iv. the class committee calls v. the cadet "silence" falls vi. trying to explain to the girls vii. jordan meets disaster viii. fate serves dick her meanest trick ix. the class takes final action x. lieutenant denton's straight talk xi. the news from franklin field xii. ready to break the camel's back xiii. the figures in the dark xiv. the story carried on the wind xv. the class meeting "sizzles" xvi. finding the baseball gait xvii. ready for the army-navy game xviii. dan dalzell's crabtown grin xix. when the army fans winced xx. the vivid finish of the game xxi. a cloud on dick's horizon xxii. cadet prescott commands at squadron drill xxiii. a west pointer's love affair xxiv. conclusion chapter i dick reports a brother cadet "detachment halt!" commanded the engineer officer in charge. out on the north dock at west point the column of cadets had marched, and now, at the word, came to an abrupt stop. this detachment, made up of members of the first and third classes in the united states military academy, was out on this august forenoon for instruction in actual military engineering. the task, which must be accomplished in a scant two hours, was to lay a pontoon bridge across an indentation of the hudson river, this indentation being a few hundred feet across, and representing, in theory, an unfordable river. "mr. prescott!" cadet richard prescott, now a first classman, and captain of one of the six cadet companies, stepped forward, saluting. "you will build the bridge today, mr. prescott, continued the instructor, lieutenant armstrong, corps of engineers, united states army. "very good, sir," replied dick. with a second salute, which was returned, prescott turned to divide his command rapidly into smaller detachments. it was work over which not a moment of time could be lost. all must be done with the greatest possible despatch, and a real bridge was called for---not a toy affair or a half-way experiment. "mr. holmes," directed prescott, "you will take charge of the boats. mr. jordan, take charge of the balk carriers!" a balk is a heavy timber, used, in this case, in the construction of the pontoon. cadet jordan, one of the biggest men, physically, in the first class, scowled as he received this order for what was especially arduous duty. "that's mean of you, prescott," glowered jordan. "if you have any complaints to make, sir, make them to the instructor," return cadet captain prescott, after a swift, astonished look at his classmate. "you know i can't do that," muttered cadet jordan. "but you-----" "silence, sir, and attend to your duty!" then, raising his voice to one of general command, prescott called: "construct the bridge!" jordan fell back, with a surly face and a muttered imprecation, to take command of the squad of yearlings, or third classman who must serve in carrying the heavy balks. in the meantime dick's roommate, greg holmes, had hurried his squad away to the flat-bottomed, square-ended pontoon boats, placing his crews therein. almost instantly, it seemed, greg had placed the first boat in position. "lay the balks!" ordered dick prescott. cadet jordan moved forward with some of his yearlings, who carried the heavy balks, or flooring timbers, on their shoulders. it was hot, hard work---"thankless," as the young men often termed it in private. these balks were laid across the first pontoon. as quickly as the balks had been laid the detachment of lashers were at work securing the balks in place. "shove off!" the first was floated to the mooring stakes and a second boat was moved into position. "chess!" another column of yearlings moved forward, each with a heavy plank on his shoulder. it was heavy, hot, hard and dirty work. outsiders who imagine that the military academy is engaged in turning out "uniformed dudes" should see this work done by the cadets. almost with the speed of magic the planks were laid in an orderly manner forming a secure flooring over the balks. the second boat was anchored, and then a third, a fourth. as the bridge grew cadet prescott walked out on the flooring that he might be at the best point for directing the efforts. as the fifth boat reached its position, dick turned to see that all was going well. the yearlings, whose duty it was to carry the balks---"balk-chasers," they were termed unofficially---were standing idle, though alert. they could not move until mr. jordan, of the first class, gave the order. and jordan? with one hand hanging at his side, the other resting against the small of his back, he stood gazing absently out over the hudson. "mr. jordan!" called dick, hastening back over the planking. "sir!" answered the surly cadet, facing him. "hurry up the balks, if you please, sir." with a scowl, jordan turned slowly toward the waiting yearlings. "lay hold!" commanded jordan, and, though it was hard work, the yearlings responded willingly. this was what they were here for, and this hard work was all part of the training that was to fit them for command after they were graduated. "all possible speed, mr. jordan!" admonished prescott, with a tinge of impatience in his voice. "lay hold! raise! shoulder!" drawled mr. jordan, with tantalizing slowness. the yearling squad, each man feeling the cut of the sharp corners of the heavy balk on his right shoulder, yet, bearing it patiently, awaited the next command. "mr. jordan, this is not a loafing contest," admonished prescott in a low voice. "for---ward!" ordered jordan with provoking deliberation. the yearlings under him, made of vastly better material, sprang forward with their balks, laying them in record time across the top of the next pontoon. the lashers then fell upon their work of securing the balks as though they loved labor. "chess!" called dick, remaining on shore this time, and the yearlings with the planks hastened forward, each carrying a plank. here and there, a lighter cadet staggered somewhat under the plank he was carrying, yet hastened forward to finish his duty of the moment with military speed. another pontoon was ready. "balks!" called cadet prescott. "balks!" jordan got his squad started at last. dick glanced swiftly, but in wonder at lieutenant armstrong. that army officer, however, seemed industriously thinking about something else. "jordan is truly taking charge of the balks!" muttered prescott to himself. "he is going to balk me so that i can't get the bridge constructed before recall!" "running the balk chasers" is always unpopular work among the cadets. properly done, this work calls for a great deal of alertness, speed and precision. it is work that takes every moment of the cadet's time and attention, and incessant running in the hot sun. yet prescott had, before this, chased the balk carriers, and had not objected. he had taken up that task as he did all others, as part of the day's work, something to be done speedily, well and uncomplainingly. "what's the matter with you, mr. jordan?" asked dick in an undertone. "are you sick?" "sick of such emigrant's jobs as this!" growled jordan. "what made you give me-----" "i can't discuss that with you," replied cadet dick prescott coldly. "i shall be compelled to make it an official matter, however, if you hinder me any more." "lay hold! raise! shoulder! forward!" jordan ran with the squad. "halt! lower!" "i reckon jordan means to keep really on the job now," murmured prescott to himself, and returned to the advancing end of the pontoon as it crawled over the little arm of the hudson. two more boats, however, and then dick sprang sternly ashore. "mr. anstey!" called prescott, and anstey, the sweet-tempered virginian, one of dick's staunchest friends in the corps of cadets, came quickly up, saluting. "mr. anstey, you will chase the balk carriers," directed dick. "please try to make up the time that has been lost. mr. jordan, you are relieved from your duty, and will report yourself to the instructor for gross lack of promptness in executing orders!" there could be no mistaking the quality of the justly aroused temper that lay behind cadet prescott's flashing blue eyes. as for cadet jordan, that young man's face went instantly livid. he clenched his fists, while the blackness of a storm was on his features. "mr. prescott," he demanded, "do you realize what you are saying---what you are doing?" "you are relieved. you will report yourself to the instructor, sir!" dick cut in tersely. anstey was already chasing the yearling squad out with the balks, and the young men were moving fast. as for dick prescott, he did not favor mr. jordan with a further glance or word, but walked with swift step back to the task of which he was in charge. with face flushed, mr. jordan walked over to the instructor, reporting himself as directed. "dismissed from to-day's instruction," said the army officer briefly. "wait and return with the detachment, however." so cadet jordan, first class, saluted, turned on his heel, sought the nearest shady spot and sat down to wait. his body idle, the young man had plenty of time to think---about cadet captain dick prescott. "there's nothing to prescott but swagger and cheap airs," decided mr. jordan, idly tossing pebbles. "it's a pity he can't be taken down a peg or two! and now i'm in for demerits before the academic year starts. probably i shall have to walk punishment tours, too!" somehow, jordan had come along through his more than three years in the corps without attracting much attention. he had made no strong friends; even jordan's roommate, atterbury, felt that he knew the man but slightly. true, jordan had not so far been strongly suspected of being morose or surly; he had escaped being ostracized, but he certainly was not popular. if he had made no strong friendships, neither had he so deported himself as to win enmity or even dislike. he was regarded simply as a very taciturn fellow who desired to be let alone, and his apparent wish in this respect was gratified. dick prescott was of an entirely different character. open, sunny, frank, manly, he was a born leader among men, as he had always been among boys. dick was a stickler for duty. he was in training to become an officer of the regular army of the united states, and prescott felt that no man could be a good soldier until the duty habit had become fixed. so, in his earlier years at west point, dick had sometimes been unpopular with certain elements among the cadets because he would not greatly depart from what he believed to be his duty as a cadet and a gentleman. readers of the _high school boys' series_ will recall that prescott, in his home town of gridley, had been the head of dick & co., a sextette of chums and high school athletes. it was in his high school days that young prescott had developed the qualities of manliness which the military academy at west point was now rounding off for him. readers of the preceding volumes in this series, _dick prescott's first year at west point_, _dick prescott's second year at west point_ and _dick prescott's third year at west point_, are already familiar with the young man's career as a cadet at the united states military academy. our readers know how hard the fight had been for dick prescott, who, in addition to his early struggles to keep his place in scholarship in the corps, had been submitted to the evil work of enemies in the corps. some of these enemies had been exposed in the end, and forced to leave the military academy, but many had been the bitter hours that prescott had spent under one cloud or another as the result of the wicked work of these enemies. at last, however, prescott and his roommate and chum, greg holmes, had reached the first class. they had now less than a year to go before they would be graduated and commissioned as officers in the army. on reaching first-class dignity, both dick and greg had been delighted over their appointment as cadet officers. prescott was captain of a company and greg holmes first lieutenant of the same company. with anstey chasing the balk carriers, and all the other squads attending briskly to business, the pontoon was quickly built, so that a roadway extended from shore to shore. now came the supreme test as to whether prescott had done his work well. in the shade of the nearest trees a team of mules had dozed while the bridge construction was going on. behind the mules was hitched a loaded wagon belonging to the engineer corps. "sir," reported prescott, approaching lieutenant armstrong and saluting, "i have the honor to report that the bridge is constructed." lieutenant armstrong returned the salute, next called to an engineer soldier. "carter!" "sir," answered the engineer private, saluting. "drive your team over the bridge and back." mounting to the seat of his wagon, the soldier obeyed. dick prescott and his mates did not watch this test closely. they were sure enough of the quality of the work that they had done. reaching land at the further side of the bridge, the engineer soldier turned his team in a half circle, once more drove upon the bridge and recrossed to the starting point. "very well done, mr. prescott," nodded the engineer officer, with a satisfied smile. "take down the bridge," ordered dick, after having saluted the army instructor. working as hard as before, the young men of the third and first classes began to demolish the bridge that they had constructed. when this had been done, and dick had officially reported the fact, lieutenant armstrong replied: "mr. prescott, you will form your detachment and march back to camp." "very good, sir." always that same salute with which a man in the army receives an order. some thirty seconds later, the detachment was formed and dick was marching it back up the inclined road on the way to the summer encampment. by that time, a sergeant and a squad of engineer privates---soldiers of the regular army---were busy taking care of the pontoon boats and other bridge material. marching his men inside the encampment, dick halted them. "detachment dismissed!" he called out. there was a quick break for first and third class tents. these young men were in field uniforms---sombreros, gray flannel shirts, flannel trousers and leggings. most of them were dripping with perspiration under the hot august sun. they were all hot and dusty, and their hands stained with tar. within a very few minutes every man in the detachment must be washed irreproachably clean, without sign of perspiration. they must be in uniforms of immaculate white duck trousers and gray fatigue blouses, wearing cleanly polished shoes, and ready to march to dinner. a great deal to be accomplished in a few minutes by the average american boy! yet let one of these cadets be late at dinner formation, without an unquestionably good excuse, and he must pay the penalty in demerits. these demerits, according to their number, bring loss of prized privileges. cadet jordan, having done little, was among the first to be clean and presentable. immaculate, trim and trig he looked as he stepped from his tent, but on his face lay a scowl that boded ill for his appetite at the coming dinner. dick was a master of swift toilets. he was on the company street almost immediately after jordan had stepped out under the shadow of a tree. "prescott," began jordan stiffly, "i want a word or two with you." "yes?" asked dick, looking keenly at his classmate. "very good." "why did you report me this morning?" "because you performed the work in an indolent, laggard manner, even after i had cautioned you." "do you consider yourself called upon to be a judge of your classmates?" "when i am detailed in command over them in any duty---yes." "shall i tell you what i think of you for reporting me?" "it would be in bad taste, at least," dick answered. "it is against the regulations for a cadet to call another to account for reporting him officially." "oh, bother the regulations!" "if that is actually your view," replied dick, with a smile, "then i will leave you to the enjoyment of your discovery concerning the regulations." "prescott, you are a prig!" snapped mr. jordan. "if it were necessary to determine that, as a matter of fact," answered dick coolly, though he flushed somewhat, "i would rather leave it to a decision of the class." "oh, i know you have plenty of bootlicks," sneered jordan. "i also know that you are class president. but that is no reason why you should act as though you thought yourself a bigger man than the president of the united states." "jordan, has the sun been affecting your head this forenoon?" demanded dick, with another keen look at his classmate. "well, you do act as though you thought yourself bigger than the president," insisted jordan sneeringly. "i am a cadet, not yet capable of being a second lieutenant, in the army," dick replied, regaining his coolness. "the president is commander-in-chief of the combined army and navy." "you are utterly puffed up with your own importance," cried jordan hotly, though in a discreetly low voice. "prescott, you are-----" something in jordan's eyes warned dick that a vile insult was coming in an instant. "_stop_!" commanded prescott, shooting a look full of warning at his classmate. "jordan, don't say anything that will compel me to knock you down in plain sight of the camp. it's years since such a thing as that has happened at west point!" "oh, you lordly brute!" sneered jordan, his face alternately white and aflame with unreasoning anger. "prescott, you had it in for me. that was why you reported me this morning. that was why you put me in line for demerits and punishment tour walking. you are bound to use your little, petty authority to humble and humiliate me. i shall call you out for this!" "if you do," shot back dick, "i shall decline to fight you. it would be against regulations and against all the traditions of the corps for me to arbitrate, by a fight, the question of whether i did right to report you." "you refuse a fight," warned jordan, with a malicious grin, "and i'll denounce you all through the class!" "denounce me, then, if you wish," retorted dick in cool contempt, "and you'll bring trouble down on your own head instead. no class requires, or permits, a member to fight in defence of his official conduct." "prescott is turning coward, then, is he?" "you or any other man who presumes to say it knows well enough that he is thereby lying," came quickly from between prescott's teeth. "why, hang you, you-----" "you'd better hush for a moment," warned prescott. "here comes the corps adjutant, and i think he is looking for you." "yes! with a message of discipline from the o.c. just because i was reported by a toy martinet like you!" retorted cadet jordan. cadet filson, corps adjutant, wearing his white gloves, red sash and sword, came up with brisk military stride. he halted before jordan, while prescott moved away. "mr. jordan, by order of the commandant of cadets, you will confine yourself to the company street, leaving it only under proper orders. this, for being reported this morning during the tour of engineer instruction. any further punishment that is to be meted out to you will be published in orders at dress parade this afternoon. "very good, sir," replied cadet jordan, choking with rage. wheeling about, adjutant filson strode away again. the moment he was gone, jordan, his brow black with fury, stepped over to prescott. "so!" he hissed. "the thunderbolt of punishment has fallen, mr. prescott. as for you-----" "mr. jordan," broke in dick coolly, "you are ordered to confine yourself to the company street. at this moment you are outside that limit. you will return immediately to the company street!" jordan glared, but he had discretion enough left to obey, for prescott was speaking now as cadet commander of a company, to which company mr. jordan belonged. "oh, i'll pay you back for this!" raged the disciplined cadet, trembling as he stepped forward. by this time, many other cadets were out in the company street. soon after the loud, snappy tones of the bugle summoned the two battalions to dinner formation. a little while before cadet adjutant filson had approached jordan, the commandant of cadets, sitting in his tent over by post number one, had sent for the engineer instructor of the forenoon. "mr. armstrong," asked the commandant, "how much is there in this report against mr. jordan this morning? does mr. jordan deserve severe discipline?" "in my opinion he does, sir," replied lieutenant armstrong. "i had the whole happening under observation, though i pretended not to see it." "why did you make such pretence, mr. armstrong?" "because i was watching to see how a man like mr. prescott would conduct himself when in command." lieutenant armstrong then related all of the particulars that he had seen of jordan's conduct. "then i am very glad that mr. prescott reported mr. jordan," replied the commandant of cadets. "mr. jordan is a first classman and should be above any such conduct. we will confine mr. jordan to his company street for one week; and on wednesday and saturday afternoons during the continuance of the encampment, he shall walk punishment tours." then the commandant of cadets had passed the word for cadet adjutant filson, to whom he had entrusted the order that the reader has already seen delivered. but jordan, unable to realize that he had proved himself unfit as a soldier found his hatred of dick prescott growing with every step of the march that carried the cadet corps to dinner at the cadet mess hall. "prescott may feel mighty big and proud now!" growled the disgruntled one. "but will he---when i get through with him?" chapter ii jordan reaches out for revenge "hello, there, stubbs!" called jordan from the doorway of his tent. "oh, that you, jordan?" called stubbs. "yes; come in, won't you?" cadet stubbs, of the first class, looked slightly surprised, for he had never been an intimate of this particular cadet. "what's the matter?" asked stubbs, pushing aside the tent flap and stepping into the tent. then, remembering something he had heard, stubbs continued quickly: "you're in a little trouble of some kind, aren't you, old man?" "oh, i'm in con." growled mr. jordan. "con." is the brief designation for "confinement." "some report this morning, eh?" "yes; that dog prescott sprung a roorback on me. sit down, won't you?" "no, thank you," replied cadet stubbs more coolly. "jordan, `dog' is a pretty extreme word to apply to a brother cadet." "oh, are you one of that fellow's admirers?" demanded the man in con. "i've always been an admirer of manliness," replied stubbs boldly. "then how can you stand for a bootlick?" shot out jordan angrily. "i don't stand for a bootlick," replied cadet stubbs. "i never did." "now, i don't want to play baby," went on jordan half eagerly. "i'm not resenting, on my own account, what happened to-day. but it was an outrage on general principles, for the affair made a fool of me before a lot of new yearlings. stubbs, we're first classmen, and we shouldn't be humiliated before yearlings in this manner." "i wasn't there," replied stubbs. "i was over at the rifle range, you know." "then i'll tell you what happened." cadet jordan began a narration of the scene that had ended in his being relieved from engineering instruction that forenoon. jordan didn't exactly lie, which is always a dangerous thing for a west point cadet to do, but he colored his narrative so cleverly as to make it rather plain that cadet prescott had acted beyond his real authority. "still," argued stubbs doubtfully, "there must have been some reason. i've known prescott ever since he entered the academy, and i never saw anything underhanded in him." "i wouldn't call it underhanded, either," explained jordan. "prescott's manner with me might much better be described as overbearing." "it would have been underhanded, had he reported you when you were really doing nothing unmilitary or improper," interposed stubbs quickly. "are you trying to defend the fellow?" demanded jordan swiftly. "no; prescott, i think, is always quite ready to attend to his own defence. but i'm astonished, jordan, at the charge you make against him, and i'm trying to understand it." "what i object to, more than anything else," insisted jordan, "was his making a fool of me before new yearlings. that is where i think the greatest grievance lies. first classmen are men of some dignity. we are not to be treated like plebes, especially by any members of our own class who may be dressed in a little brief authority. sit down, won't you, stubbs?" "no, thank you, jordan. i must be on my way soon." "but i want to get you and a half a dozen other representative first classmen together," wheedled jordan. "i think we should all talk this over as a strictly class matter. then, if i'm convinced that i'm in the wrong, i'm going to stop talking." crafty jordan didn't mean exactly what he said. he would stop talking, if convinced, but he didn't intend to be convinced. he was after dick prescott's scalp. jordan well knew that, at west point (and at annapolis, too, for that matter) class action against a man is severer and more irrevocable than even any action that the authorities of the military academy itself can take. he wanted to put prescott wholly in the wrong in the matter. class action could, at need, drive prescott out of the corps and end his connection with the army. for, if a man be condemned by his class at west point, the feud is carried over into the army as long as the offender against class ethics dares try to remain in the service. at the least, jordan hoped to stir up class feeling to such an extent that, if prescott were not actually "cut" by class action, at least his popularity would be greatly dimmed. "so won't you take part in the meeting?" coaxed jordan, as cadet stubbs moved toward the door. "i don't believe i will," replied mr. stubbs. "i'd feel out of place in such a crowd, for i've always considered myself prescott's friend." "do you place your friendship for prescott above the dignity and honor of the class?" demanded jordan. stubbs flushed. "i don't believe i'll stay, jordan, thank you. but i can offer you some advice, if you feel in need of any." "yes? commence firing!" "go slow in your grudge against prescott. personally, i don't want to see either of you hurt." "oh, prescott won't really be hurt," sneered jordan. "he told me flatly that he'd decline any calling out that i might attempt." "you---you didn't try to call him out, did you?" "i hinted that i might do so." "call him out for reporting you?" "oh, i didn't specify what the cause of the challenge would be," returned jordan airily and with a knowing wink. "jordan, old fellow, you don't mean that you'd call a cadet out for reporting you officially? why, that's against every tenet we have. and if such a challenge came to the ears of the superintendent, or of the commandant of cadets, you'd be fired out of the corps before you'd have time to turn around twice." "who'd carry the tale that i did call prescott out?" retorted cadet jordan, with a knowing leer. "prescott would, if he were a tenth part of the bootlick that you represent him to be," replied stubbs. "better stay, old man; and i'll call in a few others." "no, sir," returned cadet stubbs, with a shake of his head. "the further i go into this matter the less i like it. i'm on my way, jordan." within half an hour, however, cadet jordan had found three members of the first class who were willing to listen to him. the matter was threshed out very fully. jordan, to his listeners, pooh poohed at the idea that he was "sore" on his own account. he posed, and rather well, as the champion of first-class dignity. "i think you're on the right track, jordan," assented durville rather heartily. durville was one of the few who had never liked dick well. durville had always been one of the "wild" ones, and prescott's ideas of soldierly duty had grated a good deal on durville's own beliefs. "the class won't take severe action, anyway," hinted tupper. "we might vote to give prescott a week's 'silence,' but any permanent 'cut' would be out of the question. the man has done too many things to make himself popular." "besides," chimed in brown, "look at the place prescott holds on the army football eleven. why he---and holmes, too, of course---were the pair who saved us from the navy last november. and we rely upon that pair to a tremendous extent for the successes we expect this coming fall." jordan's jaw dropped. in the heat of his anger he had lost sight of the football situation. prescott and holmes certainly were the prize players of the army eleven. "well, it might do if the class decided on the 'silence' for prescott for a week," assented jordan dubiously. then, all of a sudden, he brightened as the thought flashed through his mind: "if prescott gets the 'silence,' even for a day, he'll be so furious that he'll do half a dozen fool things that i can provoke him into. then he'll go so far, in his wrath, that the class will cut him for good and all, and he'll buy his ticket home!" the more jordan thought this over, while he pretended to be listening to what his classmates were saying, the surer the cadet plotter felt that he could work his enemy out of the corps within the next week or so. "well, i dare say that you fellows are right in advising milder measures," admitted jordan at last. "of course, though i try not to let my personal feelings enter into this at all, yet i suppose i can't keep my sense of outraged class dignity wholly untainted by my personal feelings. besides, the 'silence' for a week will doubtless cover all the needs of the case, and i don't bear the fellow any personal grudge, or i try not to." "that's a sensible, manly view, jordan," chimed in brown, "and it does you credit as a gentleman and a man of honor. now, you know, it's a fearful thing for a man who has reached the first class to have to drop his army career at the last moment. so we'll try to bring the majority of the class around to the idea of the week's 'silence.'" "now, lest it appear as though i were actuated by personal motives," continued jordan, "i'll have to stand back and let you fellows do the talking with the other men of the class." "that's all right," nodded durville. "we wholly understand the delicacy of your position, and we can attend to it all right. besides, all we have to do, anyway, is to ascertain how the class feels on the matter." "don't let it be lost sight of, though," begged jordan, almost betraying his over anxiety, "that it is a serious matter of class dignity and honor." "we won't, old man," promised durville, as the visitors rose. as soon as he was alone---for his tentmate was away on a cavalry drill, jordan rose, his eyes flashing with triumph. "dick prescott, i believe i have you where i want you! what a rage you'll be in, if you get the 'silence'! 'whom the gods would destroy they first make mad,'" jordan went on, under his breath, wholly unaware that he had parodied the meaning of that famous quotation. "you'll rage with anger, prescott. you'll do the very things that will warrant the class in giving you the long 'cut.'" the "silence" is a form of rebuke that the cadet corps, once in many years, administers to one of the many army officers who are stationed over them. when the cadet corps decides to give an officer the "silence," the proceeding is a unique one. whenever an officer under this ban approaches a group of cadets they cease talking, and remain silent as long as he is near them. they salute the officer; they make any official communications that may be required, and do so in a faultlessly respectful manner; they answer any questions addressed to them by the officer under ban. but they will not talk, while he is within hearing, on anything except matters of duty. an officer under the ban of the "silence" may approach a gathering of a hundred or more cadets, all talking animatedly until they perceive his approach. then, all in an instant, they become mute. the officer may remain in their neighborhood for an hour, yet, save upon an official matter, no cadet will speak until the officer has moved on. this "silence" may be given an officer for a stated number of days, or it may be made permanent. it has sometimes happened that an officer has been forced to ask a transfer from west point to some other army station, simply because he could not endure the "silence." very rarely, indeed, the silence is given to a cadet; it is more especially applicable if he be a cadet officer who is in the habit of reporting his fellow classmen for what they may consider insufficient breaches of discipline. the "cut" or "coventry" is reserved for the cadet whom it is intended to drive from the army altogether. if a man at west point is "sent to coventry" by the whole corps, or as a result of class action, he will never be able to form friendships in the army again, no matter how long he remains in the army, or how hard he tries to fight the sentence down. cadet jordan, as will have been noted, professed to be satisfied if the class voted a week's "silence" to dick prescott, for jordan believed that by this time the tantalized young cadet captain could be provoked into actions that would bring the imposition of the "long silence" of permanent coventry. at the end of the busy cadet day, when the two cadet battalions stood in formal array at dress parade, cadet adjutant filson published the day's orders. one of these orders mentioned jordan's confinement to the company street, and added the further infliction of "punishment tours" to be walked every wednesday and saturday afternoons. "oh, well," thought the culprit, savagely, "as i walk i can plan newer and newer things. i'll go into the army, and you, prescott, may become a freight clerk on a jerk-water railroad." unknown to either jordan or prescott at that moment, other storm-clouds were gathering swiftly over the head of the popular young cadet captain. chapter iii catching a man for breach of "con." lieutenant denton was the tac. who served as o.c. during this tour of twenty-four hours. a "tac.," as has been explained in earlier volumes, is a regular army officer who is on duty in the department of tactics. all of the tacs. are subordinates of the commandant of cadets, the latter officer being in charge of the discipline and tactical training of cadets. each tac. is, in turn, for a period of twenty-four hours, officer in charge, or "o.c." during the summer encampment of the cadets, the o.c. occupies a tent at headquarters, and is in command, under the commandant, of the camp. it was in the evening, immediately after the return of the corps from supper, when lieutenant denton had sent for cadet captain prescott. "mr. prescott," began the o.c., "there has been some trouble, lately, as you undoubtedly know, with plebes running the guard after taps. now, our plebes are men very new to the west point discipline, and they do not appreciate the seriousness of their conduct. until the young men have had a little more training, we wish, if possible, to save them from the consequences of their lighter misdeeds. of course, if a cadet, plebe or otherwise, is actually found outside the guard line after taps, then we cannot excuse his conduct. this is where the ounce of prevention comes in. mr. prescott, i wish you would be up and around the camp between taps and midnight to-night. keep yourself in the background a bit, and see if you can stop any plebes who may be prowling before they have had a chance to get outside the guard lines. if you intercept any plebes while they are still within camp limits, demand of them their reasons for being out of their tents. if the reasons are not entirely satisfactory, turn them over to the cadet officer of the day. any plebe so stopped and turned over to the cadet officer of the day will be disciplined, of course, but his punishment will be much lighter than if he were actually caught outside the guard lines. you understand your instructions, mr. prescott?" "perfectly, sir." "that is all, mr. prescott." saluting, dick turned and left the tent. "that's just like lieutenant denton," thought dick, as he marched away to his own company street. "some of the tacs. would just as soon see the plebe caught cold, poor little beast. but lieutenant denton can remember the time when he was a cadet here himself, and he wants to see the plebe have as much of the beginner's chance as can be given." as dick pushed aside the flap and entered his tent, he beheld his chum and roommate, greg holmes, now a cadet lieutenant, carefully transferring himself to his spoony dress uniform. "going to the hop to-night, old ramrod?" asked greg carelessly, though affectionately. "not in my line of hike," yawned prescott. "you know i'm no hopoid." "oh, loyal swain!" laughed greg in mock admiration. "you hop but little oftener than once a year, when laura comes on from the home town! you throw away nearly all of the pleasures of the waxed floor." "even though but once a year, i go as often as i want," dick answered, with a pleasant smile. "but see here, ramrod, an officer is expected to be a gentleman, and a fellow can't be an all-around gentleman unless he is at ease with the ladies. what sort of practice do you give yourself?" "you're dragging a femme to the hop tonight?" queried dick. "yes, sir," admitted greg promptly. "then you're---pardon me---you're engaged to the young lady, of course?" "engaged to take her to the hop, of course," parried holmes. "and engaged to be married to her, as well," insisted dick. "ye-es," admitted cadet holmes reluctantly. "let me see; this is the fourteenth girl you've been engaged to marry, isn't it?" "no, sir," blurted greg indignantly. "miss---i mean my present betrothed, is only the eighth who has done me the honor." "even eight fiancees is going it pretty swiftly for a cadet not yet through west point," chuckled dick. "well, confound it, it isn't my fault, is it?" grumbled greg. "i didn't break any of the engagements. the other seven girls broke off with me. on the whole, though, i'm rather obliged to the seven for handing me the mitten, for i'm satisfied that miss---i mean, the present young lady---is the one who is really fitted to make me happy for life." "i'm almost sorry i'm not going to-night," mused prescott aloud. "then i'd see the fortunate young lady." "oh, there are no secrets from you, old ramrod," protested greg good-humoredly. "you know her, anyway, i think---miss steele." "captain steele's daughter?" "precisely," nodded greg. "daughter of one of the instructors in drawing?" "yes." "greg, you're at least practical this time," laughed dick. "that is, you will be if miss steele doesn't follow the example of her predecessors, and break the engagement too soon." "practical?" repeated cadet holmes. "what are you talking about, old ramrod? has the heat been too much for you to-day? practical! now, what on earth is there that's practical about a love affair?" "why, if this engagement lasts long enough, greg, old fellow, captain steele and his wife will simply have to send you an invitation to a saturday evening dinner at their quarters. and then, in ordinary good nature, they'll have to invite me, also, as your roommate. greg, do you stop to realize that we've never yet been invited to an officer's house to dinner?" "and we never would be, if we depended on you," grumbled greg. "women are the foundation rock of society, yet you never look at anyone in a petticoat except laura bentley, who comes here only once a year, and who may be so tired of coming here that she'll never appear again." a brief cloud flitted across dick's face. seeing it, repentant greg rattled on: "of course you know me well enough, old ramrod, to know that i'm not really reproaching you for being so loyal to laura, good, sweet girl that she is. but you've miffed a lot, of the girls on the post by your constancy. why, you could have the younger daughters of a dozen officers' following you, if you'd only look at them." "the younger daughters of the officers are all in the care of nurse-maids, greg," prescott retorted with pretended dignity. "relieving nurse-maids of their responsibilities is no part of a cadet's training or duty." "well, 'be good and you'll be happy'---but you won't have a good time," laughed greg, who, having finished his inspection of himself in the tiny glass, was now ready to depart. "on your way, holmesy," nodded dick, glancing at the time. "it's a long walk, even for a cadet, to captain steele's quarters." greg went away, humming under his breath. "there's a chap whom care rarely hits," mused dick, looking half enviously after his chum. "i wonder really if he ever will marry?" presently dick picked up his camp chair and placed it just outside at the door of his tent. it was pleasant to sit there in the semi-gloom. but presently he began to wonder, a little, that none of the fellows dropped around for a chat, for he was aware that a number of the first classmen were not booked for the hop that night. from time to time dick saw a first classman enter or leave the tent of cadet jordan. "he seems unusually popular to-night," thought prescott, with a smile. "well, better late than never. poor jordan has never been much of a favorite before. i wonder if my reporting him to-day has made the fellows take more notice of him? it is a rare thing, these days, for a first classman to be confined to his company street." for prescott the evening became, in fact, so lonely that presently he rose, left the encampment and strolled along the road leading to the west point hotel. on other than hop nights, this road was likely to be crowded with couples. that night, however, nearly all of the young ladies at west point had been favored with invitations to cullum hall. tattoo was sounding just as prescott crossed the line at post number one on reentering camp. in half an hour more, it would be taps. at taps, all lights in tents were expected to be out, and the cadets, save those actually on duty, to be in their beds. an exception was made in favor of cadets who had received permission to escort young ladies to the hop. each cadet who had to return to the hotel, or to officers' quarters with a young lady had received the needed permission, and the time it would take him to go to the young lady's destination and return to camp was listed at the guard tent. any cadet who took more than the permitted time to escort his partner of the hop to her abiding place would be subject for report. however, the special duty imposed upon cadet prescott for this night related to plebes, and plebes do not go to the hops. bringing out his camp chair, dick sat once more before his tent. down at jordan's tent he could still hear the low hum of cadet voices. "something is certainly going on there," mused prescott. for a moment or two he felt highly curious; then he repressed that feeling. "good evening, prescott." "oh, good evening, stubbs." cadet stubbs came to a brief halt before the cadet captain's tent. "i have been noticing that jordan has a good many visitors this evening," dick remarked. "all from our class, too, aren't they?" questioned stubbs. "yes. if we were yearlings i should feel sure that they had a plebe or two in there. but first classmen don't haze plebes." "no; we don't haze plebes," replied cadet stubbs with a half sigh, for prescott was the only first classman at present in camp who did not fully know just what was in progress at jordan's tent. but west point men pride themselves on bearing no tales, so stubbs repressed the longing to explain to dick what jordan was seeking to bring about. as a matter of fact, though some of the members of the first class were hot-headed enough to accept jordan's view of the report against him, the class sentiment was considerably against the motion to give cadet captain richard prescott the silence, even for a week. however, none came near prescott to talk it over. that again would be tale-bearing. dick was not likely to hear of the move unless summoned to present his own defense in the face of class charges. nor would greg be approached on the subject. the accused man's roommate or tentmate is always left out of the discussion. taps sounded; almost immediately the lights in the tents went out. stillness settled over the encampment. the fact that a single candle remained lighted in prescott's tent showed that he had permission to run a light. the assumption would be that he was engaged on some official duty, though the fact of running a light did not in any way betray the nature of that duty. dick sat inside at first. then, one by one, the cadets returning from the hop stepped through the company streets. at last greg holmes came in. "still engaged, holmesy?" asked dick, looking up with a quizzical smile. "surest thing on the post!" returned greg, with a radiant smile. he had the look of being a young man very much in love and utterly happy over his good fortune. "going to run a light?" asked holmes, gaping, as he swiftly disrobed. "yes; but i'll throw the tin can around so that the blaze won't be in your eyes." "it won't anyway," retorted greg, turning down the cover of his bed. "i'll turn my back on the glim." the "tin can" is a device time-honored among cadets in the summer encampment. it is merely a reflector, made of an old tin can, that increases and concentrates the brilliancy of the candle light. the "tin can" may also be used in such a way as to throw a large part of a tent in semi-darkness. two minutes later, greg's breathing proclaimed the fact that this cadet was sound asleep. dick, stifling a yawn---for it had been a long, hard and busy day---threw a look of envy toward his chum. then, in uniform, prescott stepped out into the company street. it was a dark, starless night; an ideal night to a plebe who wanted to run the guard and put in some time outside of the camp limits. keeping as much in the shadow as he could, prescott stepped along until he came near one of the sentry lines. for some time he stood thus, eyes and ears alert, though he lounged in the shadow where he was not likely to be seen. "it's an off night for plebe mischief, i reckon," he murmured at last. "all the plebes are good little boys to-night, and safely tucked in their cribs." at last, when it was near midnight, prescott came out from his place of semi-concealment and stepped over near the guard line. it was not long ere a yearling sentry, with bayonet fixed and gun resting over his right shoulder, came pacing toward the first classman. recognizing a cadet officer, the yearling sentry halted, holding his piece at "present arms." "walk your post," dick directed, after having returned the salute. had prescott been a cadet private the sentry would have questioned him as to his reasons for being out after taps. but with a cadet captain it was different. though prescott was not cadet officer of the day, he was privileged to have official reasons for being out without making an accounting to the sentry. slowly the yearling sentry paced down to the further end of his post. then he came back again. having saluted prescott recently, he did not pause now, but kept on past the cadet officer standing there in the shadow. as the sentry's footsteps again sounded softer in the distance, prescott suddenly became aware of something not far away from him. it was a little glow of fire, at an elevation of something less than six feet from the ground, over beside a bush. this glow of fire looked exactly as though it came from a lighted cigar. if the cigar were held by a civilian, it was a matter that needed looking into. cadets, if they wish, may smoke at certain times and within certain limits. but nothing in the regulations permits a cadet to go outside the guard lines after taps to smoke. dick prescott drew further back into the shadow, noiselessly, and kept his eye on the distant glow until he heard the yearling returning. "sentry!" called prescott sharply. the yearling, his piece at port arms, came on the run. "investigate that glow yonder," ordered prescott. "very good, sir!" prescott and the sentry started together. for an instant the glow wavered, as though the man that was behind the glow meditated taking to his heels. "halt!" called the sentry. "who's there?" now the glow disappeared, but cadet captain and sentry were close enough to see the outlines of a figure in cadet uniform. the figure still moved uncertainly, as though bent on flight. but the sight of two pursuers seemed to change the unknown's mind. "a cadet," he called, in answer to the sentry's challenge. the sentry halted. "advance, cadet, to be recognized," he commanded. prescott came to a halt not far from the sentry. slowly, with evident reluctance, the figure moved forward. "mr. jordan!" called prescott, in considerable amazement. "yes, sir," admitted jordan huskily. now, dick had every reason in the world for not wanting to report this cadet again, but duty is and must be duty, in the army. "mr. jordan, you are under orders of confinement to the company street," cried dick sternly. "yes, sir." "and yet you are found outside of camp limits? have you any explanation to offer, sir?" "i was nervous, sir," replied jordan, "and couldn't sleep. so i slipped out past the guard line to enjoy a quieting smoke." "smoking causes vastly more nervousness than it ever remedies, mr. jordan," replied the young cadet captain. "have you any additional explanation or excuse for being outside the company street?" "no, sir." "then return to your tent, sir." "i---i suppose you are going to report this, mr. prescott?" asked the other first classman. "i have no alternative," dick answered. "you are under confinement to the company street; you have made a breach of confinement, and i am your company commander." "very good, sir." jordan stiffened up, saluted, then passed on across the guard line, making for the street of a company. dick turned back, more slowly, a thoughtful frown gathering on his fine face, while the yearling sentry was muttering to himself: "great caesar, but prescott surely has put both feet in it. he reports a fellow classman for a little thing like a late smoke, and the man reported will be doomed to go into close arrest! glad i'm not prescott!" it would be untruthful to deny that dick prescott was worried; nevertheless, he made his way briskly to the tent of the o.c. "jove, what luck!" chuckled jordan tremulously, as he hastened along the street of a company to his tent. "of course i'll be in for all sorts of penalties, and i'll have to be mighty good, after this, to keep within safe limits on demerits. but i have prescott just where i want the insolent puppy! the class, this evening, was much in doubt about giving him the silence. but flow! when he has gone out of his way to catch me in such an innocent little breach of con.! whew! but my lucky star is surely at the top of the sky to-night." cadet jordan was soon tucked in under his bed cover. he had not fallen asleep, however, when he heard a step coming down the street. dick had chanced to find the o.c. still up. in a few words prescott made his report. "this is a very serious report against a first classman, mr. prescott," said kind-hearted lieutenant denton gravely. "it is most unfortunate for mr. jordan that he has not a better excuse. you will go to mr. jordan's tent, mr. prescott, and direct him to remain in his tent, in close arrest, until he hears as to the further disposition of his case by the commandant of cadets." "very good, sir," prescott answered, saluting. "and then you may go to your own tent and retire, mr. prescott. i fancy the plebes have been good to-night." "thank you, sir." with a rather heavy heart, though outwardly betraying no sign, prescott walked along until he reached jordan's tent, where he delivered the order from the o.c. "did you hear that, old man?" growled jordan to his tentmate, after the cadet captain had gone. "pretty rough!" returned the tentmate sleepily. rough? the first class was seething when it received the word next morning, for it was the common belief that prescott must have shadowed and followed his classmate in order to entrap him. "it's surely time for class action now," durville told several of his classmates. chapter iv the class committee calls outwardly a company and the entire corps of cadets was as placid and unruffled as ever when the two battalions marched to breakfast that morning. one conversant with military procedure, however, would have noted that jordan, being a prisoner, marched in the line of the file closers. and mr. jordan's face was wholly sulky, strive as he would to banish the look and appear indifferent. even to a fellow naturally as unsocial as the cadet now in arrest, it was no joke to be confined to his tent even for the space of a week, except when engaged in official duties; and to be obliged, two afternoons in a week, to march in full equipment and carry his piece, for three hours in the barracks quadrangle under the watchful eyes of a cadet corporal. this penalty would last during the remaining weeks of the encampment and would be pronounced upon jordan as soon as the commandant of cadets perfunctorily confirmed the temporary order of lieutenant denton. dick, at the head of a company, looked as impassive as ever, though he felt far from comfortable. through the ranks, wherever first classmen walked, excitement was seething. when prescott was seated at table in the cadet mess hall, greg, who sat next his chum, turned and raised his eyebrows briefly, as though to say: "there's something warm in the air." dick's momentary glance in return as much as said: "i know it." none of the other cadets at the same table turned to address prescott directly, with the single exception of greg holmes. true, when dick had occasion, twice or thrice, to address other men at his table, they answered him, though briefly. whatever was in the air it had not broken yet. that was as much as prescott could guess. the instant that they had returned to camp, and the two chums were in their tent, greg whispered fiercely: "that sulker, jordan, is putting up trouble for you, as sure as you're alive." "then i've given him a bully handle to his weapon," admitted dick prescott dryly. they were hustling into khaki field uniform now, and there was little time for comment; none for greg to go outside and find out what was really in the air. battery drill was right ahead of them. barely were the chums changed to khaki field uniform before the call sounded on the bugle. on the recall from battery drill, the chums had but a few moments before they were called out for a drill in security and information. so the time passed until dinner. again jordan marched in the line of the file closers, and now this first classman had received his official sentence from the commandant of cadets. so far as the demeanor of the class toward prescott was concerned, dinner was an exact repetition of breakfast. on the return of the corps to camp, a few minutes followed that were officially assigned to recreation. dick stood just inside the door of his tent when he heard the tread of several men approaching. looking out, he saw seven men of his own class coming up. durville was at their head. "good afternoon, prescott," began durville. "good afternoon, gentlemen," nodded dick. "we represent the class in a little matter," continued durville, "and i have been asked to be the spokesman. can you spare us a little time?" "all the time that i have before the call sounds for my next drill," replied prescott. "mr. prescott, you reported a member of our class last night," began durville. "i did so officially," dick answered. "of course, mr. prescott, we understand that. the offender was a member of a company, and you are the cadet captain of that company. but this affair happened at the guard line, and you were not cadet officer of the day. mr. jordan feels that you exerted yourself to catch him in his delinquency." "i did not," replied prescott promptly. "at the time when i called upon the cadet sentry to apprehend mr. jordan, i had not the remotest idea that it was mr. jordan." "then," asked durville bluntly, "how did you, who were not the cadet officer of the day, happen to be where you could catch mr. jordan so neatly?" "in that matter i have no explanation to offer," prescott replied. one less a stickler for duty than prescott might have replied that he had been on the spot the night before in obedience to a special order from the officer in charge. dick prescott, however, felt that to make such a statement would be a breach of military faith. the order that he had received from lieutenant denton he looked upon as a confidential military order that could not be discussed, except on permission or order from competent military sources. "now, prescott," continued cadet durville almost coaxingly, "we don't want to be hard on you, and we don't want to do anything under a misapprehension. can't you be more explicit?" "i have already regretted my inability to go further into the matter with you," dick replied, pleasantly though firmly. "and you can give us no explanation whatever of how you came to report jordan for being beyond the camp limits?" "all i am able to tell you is that my reporting of mr. jordan was a regrettable but military necessity." "is that all we wish to ask, gentlemen?" inquired durville, turning to his six companions. "it ought to be," retorted brown dryly. the seven nodded very coldly. durville turned on his heel, leading the others away. "unless i'm a poor kitchen judge, old ramrod, your goose is cooked," muttered greg holmes mournfully. "then it will have to be," spoke dick resolutely. "but you haven't told even me how you came to be, last night, just where you could fall afoul of jordan so nicely." "old chum," cried dick, turning and resting a hand on greg's right arm, "i can discuss that matter no further with you than i did with the class committee." "you're a queer old extremist, anyway, with all your notions of duty and other bugaboos. this affair has given me the shivers." "then cheer up, holmesy!" laughed cadet captain prescott. "oh, it's you i'm shivering for," muttered greg. chapter v the cadet "silence" falls six companies of sun-browned, muscular young men marched away to cadet mess hall that evening. if any of these cadets were more than properly fatigued, none of them betrayed the fact. their carriage was erect, their step springy and martial. in ranks their faces were impassive, but when they filed into the mess hall, seated themselves at table and glanced about, an orderly babel broke loose. at all, that is to say, save one table. that was the table at which cadet captain richard prescott sat. greg was the first to make the discovery. he turned to brown with a remark. brown glanced at holmes, nodding slightly. all the other cadets at that board were eating, their eyes on their plates. "what's the matter?" quizzed holmes. "you're ideas moving slowly?" again brown glanced up at his questioner, but that was all. "how's the cold lamb, durville?" questioned dick. durville passed the meat without speaking, nor did he look directly at prescott. dick and greg exchanged swift glances. they understood. the blow had fallen. _the silence had been given_! dick felt a hot flush mounting to his temples. the blood there seemed to sting him. then, as suddenly, he went white, clammy perspiration beading his forehead and temples. this was the verdict of the class---of the corps? he had offended the strict traditions and inner regulations of the cadet corps, and was pronounced unfit for association! that explained the constrained atmosphere at this one table, the one spot in all the big room where silence replaced the merry chatter of mealtime. "the fellows are mighty unjust!" thought dick bitterly, as he went on eating mechanically. he no longer knew, really, whether he were eating meat, bread or potato. that was the first thought of prescott. but swiftly his view changed. he realized about him, were hundreds of the flower of the young manhood of the united states. these young men were being trained in the ways of justice and honor, and were trying to live up to their ideals. if such an exceptional, picked body of young men had condemned him---had sentenced him to bitter retribution---was it not wholly likely that there was much justice on their side? "the verdict of so many good and true men must contain much justice," prescott thought, as he munched mechanically, trying proudly to bide his dismay from watchful eyes. "then i have offended against manhood, in some way. yet how? i have obeyed orders and have performed my duties like a soldier. how, then, have i done wrong?" once more it seemed indisputable to prescott that his comrades had wronged him. but once more his own sense of justice triumphed. "i am not really at fault," he told himself, "nor is the class. the class has acted on the best view of appearances that it could obtain. i was wholly right in obeying the orders that i received from lieutenant denton, and equally right in not communicating those orders to a class committee. nor could i refrain from reporting mr. jordan for breach of con. that was my plain duty, more especially as mr. jordan is a member of the company that i command. but the appearances have been all against me, and i have refused to explain. the class is hardly to be blamed for condemning me, and i imagine that mr. jordan, in accusing me, has not been at all reticent. probably, too, he has taken no extreme pains to adhere to the exact truth. i do not see how i can get out of the scrape in which i find myself. i wonder if the silence is to be continued until i am forced to resign and give up a career in the army?" with such thoughts as these it was hard, indeed, to look and act as though nothing had happened. but cadet jordan, taking eager, covert looks at his enemy from another table, got little satisfaction from anything that he detected in prescott's face. "why, that b.j.(fresh) puppy is quite equal to cheeking his way on through the last year and into the army!" thought jordan maliciously. "however, he's done for! no matter if he sticks, he'll never get any joy out of his shoulder straps." little could jordan imagine that prescott's proud nature would long resist the silence. if this rebuke were to become permanent, then prescott was not in the least likely to attempt to enter upon his studies at the beginning of they academic year in september. and greg! he didn't waste any time in trying to be just to any one. all his hot blood rose and fomented within him at the bare thought of this terrible indignity put upon that prince of good fellows, dick prescott. holmes felt, in truth, as though he would be glad to fight, in turn, every member of the first class who had voted for the silence. that practically all the fellows of the first class had voted for the silence, greg did not for an instant believe. he was well aware that dick had many staunch friends in the class who would stand out for him in the face of any appearances. but a vote of the majority in favor of the silence would be enough; the rest of the class would be bound by the action of the majority. and all the lower classes would observe and respect any decision of the first class concerning one of its own members. not a word did greg say to dick. yet, under the table, holmes employed one of his knees to give dick's knee a long, firm pressure that conveyed the hidden message of unfaltering friendship and loyalty. for the other cadets at the table the silence imposed more or less hardship, since they could utter only the most necessary words. they however, were not objects against whom the silence was directed, and they could endure the absence of conversation with far more indifference than was possible for prescott. it was a relief to all at the table, none the less, when the rising order was given. when the corps had marched back to camp, and had been dismissed, dick prescott, head erect, and betraying no sign of annoyance, walked naturally into a company's street, drew out his camp chair and seated himself on it in the open. barely had he done so, when greg arrived. cadet holmes, however, did not stop or speak, but hurried on. "greg has his hands full," thought dick. "he's going to investigate. and i'm afraid his hot head will get him into some sort of trouble, too." the imposition of the silence did not affect greg in his relations with his tentmate. when a cadet is sent to coventry, or has the silence "put" on him, his tentmate or roommate may still talk unreservedly with him without fear of incurring class disfavor. to impose the rule of silence on the tentmate or roommate of the rebuked one would be to punish an innocent man along with the guilty one. rarely, after all, does the corps err in its judgment when coventry or the silence is meted out. none the less, in dick's case a grave mistake had been made. time slipped by, and darkness came on, but greg had not returned. there was band concert in camp that night. many cadets of the first and third classes had already gone to meet girls whom they would escort in strolling near the bandstand. plebes are not expected to escort young ladies to these concerts. the members of the second class were away on the summer furlough, as dick and greg had been the summer before. as the musicians began to tune up at the bandstand, most of the remaining cadets sauntered through the company streets on their way to get close to the music. all cadets who passed through a company's street became suddenly silent when within ten paces of dick's tent, and remained silent until ten paces beyond. dick's tent being at the head of the street, he was quite near enough to the music. but he was not long in noting that both cadet escorts and cadets without young ladies took pains not to approach too close to where he sat. it was enough to fill him with savage bitterness, though he still strove to be just to his classmates who had been blinded by cadet jordan's villainous scheme. of a sudden the band struck up its lively opening march. just at that moment prescott became aware of the fact that greg holmes was lifting out a campstool and was placing it beside him. "well," announced greg, "i've found out all there is behind the silence." "i took it for granted that was your purpose," dick responded. "aren't you anxious to hear the news, old ramrod?" "yes; very." "i'm hanged if you look anxious!" muttered greg, studying his chum's face keenly. "i fancy i've got to display a good deal of skill in masking my feelings," smiled dick wearily. "oh, i don't know," returned cadet holmes hopefully. "it may not turn out to be so bad." "then a permanent silence hasn't been imposed?" "not yet," replied greg. "by which, i suppose, you mean that the length of the silence has not yet been decided upon." "it hasn't," greg declared. "it was only after the biggest, swiftest and hardest kind of campaign, in fact, that the class was swung around to the silence. only a bare majority were wheedled into voting for it. nearly half of the class stood out for you stubbornly, pointing to your record here as a sufficient answer. and that nearly half are still your warm adherents." "yet, of course, they are bound by the majority action?" "of course," sighed greg. "that's the old rule here, isn't it? well, to sum it up quickly, old ramrod, the silence has been put on you, and that's as far as the decision runs up to date. the class is yet to decide on whether the silence is to be for a week or a month. of course, a certain element will do all in its power to make the silence a permanent thing. even if it is made permanent, dick, you'll stick, won't you?" "no." "what?" "i shall not even try to stick against any permanent silence," replied prescott slowly. "i thought you had more fight in you than that," muttered greg in a tone of astonishment. "i think i have enough fight," dick replied with some warmth. "and i honestly believe i have enough in me to make at least a moderately capable officer of the army. but, greg, i'm not going to make a stubborn, senseless effort, all through life, to stay among comrades who don't want me, and who will make it plain enough that they do not consider me fit to be of their number. greg, in such an atmosphere i couldn't bring out the best that is in me. i couldn't make the most of my own life, or do the best by those who are dear to me." there was an almost imperceptible catch in dick prescott's voice. he was thinking of laura bentley as the one for whom he had hoped to do all his best things in life. "i don't know but you're right, old fellow. but it's fearfully hard to decide such a matter off-hand," returned greg. his own voice broke. for some moments holmes sat in moody silence. at last he reached out a hand, resting it on dick's arm. "if you get out, old ramrod, it's the outs for me on the same day." "greg!" "oh, that's all right," retorted cadet holmes, trying to force a cheery ring into his voice. "if you can't get through and live under the colors, dick, i don't want to!" "but greg, old fellow, you mustn't look at it that way. you have had three years of training here at the nation's expense. it will soon be four. you owe your country some return for this magnificent training." "how about you, then?" asked holmes, regarding his friend quizzically. "me? i'd stay under the colors, and give up my life for the country and the army, if my comrades would have it. but if they won't, then it's for the best interests of the service that i get out, greg." "well, talk yourself blind, if it will give you any relief. but post this information up on your inside bulletin board: when you quit the service, old ramrod, it will be 'good-bye' for little holmesy!" chapter vi trying to explain to the girls breakfast, the next morning, was a repetition of what had happened the night before. at dick's table the silence was absolute. even captain reid, cadet commissary, noticed it and understood, in his trip of inspection through mess hall. the thing that reid, who was an army officer, did not know was---who was the victim? he never guessed prescott, who was class president, and believed to be one of the tallest of the class idols. it speaks volumes for the intended justice of the cadets when they will, in time of fancied need, destroy even their idols. thus it went on for some days. dick performed all of his duties as usual, and as well as usual. nothing in his demeanor showed how keenly he felt the humiliation that had been put upon him. only in his failure to attempt any social address of a classmate did he betray his recognition of the silence. greg did his best to cheer up his chum. anstey expressed greatest sorrow and sympathy for his friend prescott. holmes promptly reported this conversation to dick. other good friends expressed their sorrow to holmes. in every case he bore the name and the implied message hastily to the young cadet captain. a few whom dick had considered his good friends did not thus put themselves on record. dick thereupon understood that they had acted upon their best information and convictions, and he honored them for being able to put friendship aside in the interests of tradition and corps honor. the silence had lasted five days when, one evening, a class meeting was called. though cadet prescott was class president, he did not attend, for he knew very well that he was not wanted. greg's sense of delicacy told the latter that it was not for him to attend the meeting, either. the vice president of the class was called to the chair. then durville and others made heated addresses in which they declared that prescott could no longer consistently retain the class presidency. a motion was made that prescott be called upon to resign. it was seconded by several first classmen. then anstey, the virginian, claimed the floor in behalf of the humiliated class president. the blood of virginian orators flowed in anstey's veins, nor did he discredit his ancestry. in an impassioned yet deliberate and logical speech anstey declared that great injustice had been done cadet richard prescott, and by the members of his own class. "every man within reach of my voice knows mr. prescott's record," declared the virginian warmly. "when we were plebes, who stood up most staunchly as our class champion? why, suh, why did we choose mr. prescott as our class president? was it not because we believed, with all our hearts, that in richard prescott lay all the best elements of noble, upright and manly cadethood? do you remember, suh, and fellow classmen, the wild enthusiasm that prevailed when we, by our suffrages, had declared mr. prescott to be our ideal of the man to lead the class in all the paths of honor?" anstey paused for an instant. then, lowering his voice somewhat, he continued, with scathing irony: "_and now you give this best man of our class the silence, and seek to remove him from the presidency of the class_!" "it's a shame!" roared another cadet. there were cheers. "it is a shame," cried anstey in a ringing voice. "and now you seek to deepen the shame by further degrading prescott, who has always been the champion of our class. mr. president, i move that we lay the motion on the table indefinitely. as soon as that has been done i shall make another motion, that we remove the silence from the grand, good fellow who has had it put upon him." there were others, however, with nearly anstey's gift for oratory. one of them now took the floor, pointing out that the class would not have rebuked prescott for having reported jordan in the tour of pontoon bridge construction. "that may have been justified," continued the speaker. "but, afterwards, mr. jordan and mr. prescott had words. there must have been some bitterness in that. that same night mr. jordan was caught and reported by mr. prescott, who was not cadet officer of the day, and who therefore must have deliberately shadowed mr. jordan in order to catch him." "prescott did not shadow mr. jordan, or do anything of a sneaky nature," shouted anstey. "he refused to explain to our class committee how he happened to be on band at just the time to catch jordan," shouted durville. "then be assured he had a good military, a good soldierly, a good manly reason for his silence," clamored anstey. the meeting was an excited one from all points of view. in the end the best that the staunch friends of dick could secure was that action on the resignation of the class presidency be deferred until a cooler hour, but that the silence be continued for the present. and so the meeting broke up. jordan had been dismayed, fearing that anstey's impassioned speech might result in putting his enemy back into greater popularity than ever. but now jordan was reassured. he was satisfied that things were still moving in his direction, and that prescott's proud spirit would soon lead him into some action that must make the breach with the class wider than ever. at noon the next day prescott returned from the second drill of the forenoon. in his absence a mail orderly had been around. an envelope lay on the table addressed to dick. "from laura," he exclaimed in delight. "that'll cheer you some," smiled greg. "why it's postmarked from new york," continued dick swiftly. "whew! she must be headed this way!" hurriedly prescott tore the envelope open. "it couldn't have happened at a worse time," he muttered, turning white. "what?" "laura, mrs. bentley and belle meade are in new york, and will reach here this afternoon. laura says they have learned that there is a hop on to-night, and they are bringing their prettiest frocks." "whew! that is a facer!" breathed greg in perplexity. "of course i can't take laura to the hop." "you can, if you have the nerve," insisted greg. "and i have the nerve!" retorted dick defiantly. "but how about laura? she would discover, within a few minutes, that i am on strained terms with the other fellows. that would do worse than spoil her evening." "well," demanded greg thoughtfully, "why do you need to take her to the hop?" "because she says that's what the girls have come for." "bother! do you suppose it's you, or the hop, that laura comes for?" but dick, instead of being cheered by this view, turned very white. "i've got to tell her," he muttered hoarsely, "that i'm in eclipse. that the fellows have voted that i am not a fit associate for gentlemen." "and i'll tell her a heap more," retorted cadet holmes. "dick, do you think either of the girls would go back on you, just because a lot of raw, half-baked cadets have got you sized up wrong? is that all the faith you have in your friends? and, especially, such a friend as laura bentley? was that the way she acted when you were under charges of cribbing? you were in disgrace, then, weren't you? did laura look at you with anything but sympathy in her eyes?" "no; heaven bless her!" "now, see here, dick. if the girls are up here this evening, we won't take 'em to the hop. instead, we'll sit out on the north porch at the hotel, with mrs. bentley near by. we'll have such a good old talk with the girls as we never could have at a hop." "everything in life would be easy, greg, if you could explain it away," laughed dick prescott, but his tone was bitter. "well, as you can't take the girls to the hop, with any regard for their comfort, my plan is best of all, isn't it?" "i---i suppose so." "so make the best of it, old ramrod. there's nothing so bad that it couldn't be a lot worse." there was a long tour of work with the field battery guns that afternoon. for once prescott found his mind entirely off his work. nor could he rally his senses to his work. he got a low marking, indeed, in the instructor's record for that afternoon's work. then, hot, dusty and tired, this detachment of cadets came in from work. in the visitors' seats, near headquarters, dick and greg espied mrs. bentley and the girls. how lovely the two latter looked! the instant that ranks were broken laura. and belle were on their feet, glancing eagerly in the direction of their cadets. dick and greg had to go over, doff their campaign hats and shake hands with mrs. bentley and the girls. "we've given you a surprise, this time," laughed laura. "i hope you're pleased." "can you doubt it?" asked dick so absently, so reluctantly, that laura bentley shot a swift, uneasy look at the handsome young cadet captain. "you don't seem over delighted," broke in belle meade. "gracious! i hope we haven't been indiscreet in coming almost unannounced? see here, you haven't invited any other girls to to-night's hop, have you?" both girls, flushed and rather uneasy looking, were now eyeing the two ill-at-ease young first classmen. "no; we haven't invited anyone else. but there's something to be explained," replied dick lamely. "greg, you explain, won't you? and you'll all excuse me, won't you, while i hurry away to tog for dress parade?" laura's face was almost as white as dick's had been at noon, as she gazed after the receding prescott. then greg, in his bluntest way, tried to put it all straight, and quickly, at that. "oh, is that all?" asked belle with a sniff of contempt. "why couldn't dick remain and tell us himself? you cadets are certainly cowards in some things---sometimes!" but the tears were struggling for a front place in laura's fine eyes. "is this 'silence' going to affect dick very much in his career in the army?" she asked with emotion. "not if his staunchest friends can prevent it," replied greg almost fiercely. "and old ramrod has a host of friends in his class, at that." "it's too bad they're not in the majority, then," murmured miss meade. "they will be, in the end," asserted greg. "we're working things around to that point. you should have heard the fierce row we put up at the class meeting last night." when it was too late greg could have bitten his tongue. "class meeting?" asked laura. "then has there been further action taken?" greg nodded, biting his lips. "what was last night's meeting held for?" persisted laura. "to try to oust dick from the class presidency," confessed cadet holmes. "did they do it?" quivered laura bentley. "no!" "ah! then the attempt was defeated. dick is to retain the presidency of his class?" "action was deferred," replied greg in a low voice. he wished with all his heart he could get away, for he saw that, no matter how he tried to hedge the facts about, these keen-witted girls realized that dick prescott's plight was about as black as it could be for a young man who wanted, with all his soul, to remain in the military service of his country. chapter vii jordan meets disaster belle, with her combination of impulsive temperament, good judgment and bluntness, came to the temporary rescue. "greg is trying to conceal the fact that he'll have a desperate rush to get into his dress uniform in time for parade," miss meade interposed. "anyway, there's far more about this matter than we can understand in a moment. greg, you and dick can call on us at the hotel this evening, can't you?" "we most surely can." "then come, as early as you can. we'll eat the earliest dinner we can get there, and be prepared for a long evening. now, hurry to your tent, for i don't want to see you reported for being late at formation." between her visits to west point, and her trips to annapolis to see dave darrin, as related in the annapolis series, belle had by this time a very considerable knowledge of formations, and of other incidents in the lives of army and navy cadets. "this evening, then," replied greg, shifting his campaign hat to the other hand and feeling like a man who has secured a reprieve. "and give my love to dick," belle went on hastily, "and tell him that the president of the united states couldn't, if he wanted to, change our opinion of dear old dick in the least." "thank you," bowed greg, gratitude welling up in his heart. "and you send him your love, don't you, laura?" insisted belle swiftly. laura recoiled quickly, flushing violently. it was all right for belle meade to send her "love" to prescott, for they were old friends, and belle was known to be dave darrin's loyal sweetheart. with laura the situation was painfully different. she and dick had been schoolboy and schoolgirl sweethearts, after a fashion, but dick had never openly declared his love for her. would he misunderstand, and think her unwomanly? she trembled with the sudden doubt at the thought. besides, another, a prosperous young merchant back in gridley, had been ardent in his attentions to miss bentley. "of course laura sends her love," broke in greg promptly. "who wouldn't, when the dear old fellow is in such a scrape? and i'll deliver the message of love from you both---and from mrs. bentley, too?" greg looked inquiringly, but expectantly at laura's mother, who nodded and smiled in ready sympathy. then greg made his best soldier's bow and hastened off to his chum, whose heart he succeeded in gladdening somewhat while the two made all haste to get ready for parade call. when the corps marched on to the field that afternoon, mrs. bentley and the girls were there among the eager spectators. dick saw them almost instantly, and his heart bounded within him. it was laura's mute message of sympathy and hope to him! he held up his head higher, if that were possible, and went through every movement with even more than his usual precision. as the corps was marching off the field again, however, dick's heart sank rapidly within him. "if i have to leave the army, i can never ask laura for her love," he groaned wretchedly. "if i go from west point as anything but a graduate and an officer, i shall have to start life all over again. it will take me years to find my place and get solidly on my feet i could never ask a girl to wait as long as that!" in the early evening laura, belle and mrs. bentley were on the veranda near the hotel entrance. cadets jordan and douglass made their appearance. jordan had obtained official permission to present douglass to his sister, who was to go to the hop that evening. "by jove, there's a spoony femme (pretty girl) over there," breathed jordan in douglass' ear. "you don't happen to know her, do you?" "why, yes, that's miss bentley, and the other is miss meade. the chaperon is miss bentley's mother," replied cadet douglass. "you know them?" throbbed jordan, his eyes resting eagerly on laura's face. "what luck! present me, old chap!" so douglass, who, in some respects, had a bad memory, piloted his classmate over to the ladies and halted. "good evening, ladies," greeted douglass, raising his uniform cap in his most polished manner. "mrs. bentley, miss bentley, miss meade, will you permit me to present my friend and classmate mr. jordan?" belle, who was nearest, bowed and held out her hand. but laura drew herself up haughtily. "mr. douglass," she answered coldly, "my apologies to you, but i don't wish to know---mr. jordan!" belle caught the name again, and remembered. "oh!" she cried, snatching her hand away ere jordan could touch it. "i'm sorry, ladies," stammered douglass. but they found themselves confronted by rear views of two shapely pairs of young shoulders, while mrs. bentley had the air of looking through the young men without being able to see either. two very much disconcerted cadets, and very red in the face, stiffly resumed their caps and marched away. "great scott, what did that mean?" gasped jordan, struck all in a heap by his strange reception. cadet douglass gasped. "jordan," he exclaimed contritely, "i'm the greatest ass in the corps!" "you must be!" exploded dick's enemy. "but what was the cause of it all?" "why, jordan, you---you see-----" "who is miss bentley?" "jordan, she's prescott's girl!" "what?" gasped the other cadet, staring at his classmate. "fact!" "prescott's---girl?" "yes." "jove, a puppy like prescott has no business with a superb girl like that." "all the same, jordan, the fact will prevent you from knowing her." "now, i'm not so sure of that!" cried jordan suddenly, with strange fire in his eyes. "what do you mean?" "oh, nothing," mumbled jordan, suddenly recovering himself. then, under his breath, he chuckled gleefully: "miss bentley is just struck on the uniform, of course. a girl like that couldn't care for a misfit like prescott. well, he won't be in the uniform much longer. i won't lose sight of miss bentley. i'll find her again when prescott is out of the uniform for good!" now, aloud, he asked: "doug, do you happen to remember miss bentley's first name?" "larry," answered cadet douglass absently. "stop that!" cried jordan almost fiercely. "oh, a thousand pardons, jordan. i'm so rattled i don't know what i'm doing or saying. the girl's first name is laura. peach, isn't she?" "laura! that's a sweet name," murmured jordan to himself. his mind was now running riot, not only with plans to drive dick prescott out of the army, but also to win the heart of laura bentley. "hold on, jord," begged douglass, halting and leaning against a post in the veranda structure. "don't take me to your sister just yet. let me get my breath, my nerves, my wits back again." "take an hour," advised jordan laconically. "you need it. didn't you know miss bentley was prescott's girl?" "yes; but it had slipped my memory. it's mighty hard, when you come to think of it, to remember the girls of so many hundreds of fellows," explained cadet douglass plaintively. ten minutes later dick and greg appeared, greeting the ladies. mrs. bentley assented to their going around to the north side of the porch, whence they could look up the river to the lights of newburgh. "we very nearly had an adventure, dick," laughed belle. "yes?" "we very nearly shook hands with mr. jordan. it was laura's quick cry that saved me, just in the nick of time, from touching hands with the fellow." miss meade then related their experience, and the discomfiture of cadets douglass and jordan. "that's just about like doug," observed greg holmes. "i'll bet he never thought until laura called off the signal for the kick." "what's that?" demanded miss bentley. "pardon me," apologized greg. "i think in football terms altogether too often. but i'm glad jordan saw the goal and then lost it." "i think dick wants to tell us something about the fellow jordan, and some of the other cadets," belle hinted. between them the chums told the story of how the "silence" had come to be imposed. prescott did not, however, tell his feminine visitors how he had happened to catch jordan outside the guard line. "how did that happen?" asked laura innocently. "now, i'd tell you before i would any one else on earth," protested dick with warmth, "but i haven't told greg or anyone else. i had good military reasons, not personal ones." "oh!" replied laura. and, not understanding, she felt more than a little hurt by dick's failure to answer frankly. both girls, however, talked very comfortingly, and mrs. bentley very sensibly aided their efforts. all three tried to make it quite plain to dick prescott that no amount, or consequence, of lack of understanding by his classmates could make any difference with his standing in their eyes. presently mrs. bentley consented to the girls strolling down the road between the hotel and cadet barracks. dick, of course, walked with laura, while greg and belle remained at a discreet, out-of-earshot distance. at last they stood again by the gateway through the shrubbery at the edge of the hotel grounds. "dick-----" began laura hesitatingly. "yes?" asked the young cadet captain. "dick, no matter how far your classmates push this matter," begged laura, her eyes big and earnest, "don't let their acts force you out of the army. no matter what happens---stick!" cadet prescott shook his head wearily. "i can't stick," he replied firmly, "if i am shown that my presence in the army is not going to be for the good and the harmony of the service!" laura sighed. another keen pang of disappointment, was hers. she now believed that her influence over dick prescott was not anywhere near as strong as she had hoped it would be. a very wretched girl rested her head on a pillow that night, and slept but poorly. in the forenoon, while the corps was absent on an infantry practice march, laura, her mother and her friend went dejectedly away from west point. chapter viii fate serves dick her meanest trick the furloughed second class returned, the encampment ended and the corps marched back into cadet barracks. the new academic year had begun, with new text-books, new studies, new intellectual torments for the hundreds of ambitious young soldiers at the united states military academy. by this time both dick and greg had acquired the habits of study so thoroughly that neither any longer feared for his standing or markings. to prescott there was one big comfort about being back in the old, gray cadet barracks. the silence put upon dick was not now quite as much in evidence. with long study hours, prescott had not so much need to meet his classmates. in the section rooms nothing in the deportment of the other cadets could emphasize the silence. it was only in the authorized visiting hours that prescott noted the change keenly. of course, according to the traditions of the military academy, anstey and all the other loyal friends who ached to call were barred from so doing. while taps sounds at ten o'clock, and members of the three lower classes must be in bed, with lights out, at the first sound of taps, first classmen are privileged, whenever they wish, to run a light until eleven at night, provided the extra time be spent in study. one evening in early september, dick and greg were both busy at study table, when dick chanced to look over some papers connected with his studies. as he did so, he drew out an officially backed sheet, and started. "jupiter!" he muttered. "i should have turned this in before supper formation." "who gets the report?" asked greg, looking up. "it goes to the officer in charge," dick answered. "oh, well, he's up yet. you can slip over to his office with it," replied greg easily. "and i'll do it at once. it may mean a demerit or two, for lack of punctuality, but i'm glad it's no worse." jumping up and donning his fatigue cap, prescott thrust the neglected official report into the breast of his uniform blouse, soldier fashion. then he walked slowly out, halting just inside the subdivision door. "i don't mind a few demerits, but i don't like to be accused of unsoldierly neglect," mused the young cadet captain. "let me see if i can think up a way of presenting my statement so that the o.c. won't scorch me." as dick stood there in the gloom, a quick, soft step sounded outside. then the door was carefully opened, and a young man in citizen's dress entered. civilians rarely have a right, to be in cadet barracks at any time of the day. it is wholly out of the question for one to enter barracks after taps. "what are you doing in here, sir?" dick questioned sternly, putting out his hand to take the other's arm. then the young cadet captain drew back in near-horror. "good heavens! durville?" he gasped. "yes. sh!" whispered the other cadet, slinking back, a frightened look in his eyes. no cadet, while at west point, may, without proper permission, appear in any clothing save the uniform of the day or of the tour. no cadet ever attempts to don "cits." unless he is up to some grave mischief, such as leaving the post. "don't say a word! let me reach my room!" whispered durville hoarsely. dick prescott wished, with all his heart, to be able to comply with the other cadet's frenzied request. but duty stepped in with loud voice. as a cadet officer, as captain of durville's company, prescott had no alternative within the lines of that duty. he must report cadet durville. "now, don't look at me so strangely," begged durville. "let me go by, and tell me you'll keep this quiet. by jove, prescott, you know what it means to me if i'm placed on report for---this!" "yes, i know," nodded dick, dejectedly, and speaking as hoarsely as did the other man. "oh, durville, i wish i could do it, but-----" dick had to clench his fists and gulp hard. then the soldier in him triumphed. "mr. durville"---he spoke in an impassive official tone, now---"you will accompany me to the office of the officer in charge, and will there make such official explanation as you may choose." "prescott, for the love of-----" began the other over again, in trembling desperation. "about face, mr. durville. forward!" now, all the gameness in the other cadet came to the surface. he wheeled about, head up, his clenched fists seeking the seams of his condemning "cit." trousers. durville marched defiantly out into the quadrangle, across and into the cadet guard house, up the flight of stairs and into the office of the officer in charge. lieutenant denton was again o.c. that night. both cadets saluted when they entered after knocking. lieutenant denton glanced in sheer dismay at the "cit." clothes worn by durville. "sir," began dick huskily, "i regret being obliged to report that i just discovered mr. durville entering the sub-division in citizen's dress." "have you any explanation to offer, mr. durville?" asked lieutenant denton in his official tone. "none, sir." "very good, mr. durville. you will go to your room and remain in close arrest until you receive further official communication in this matter." "very good, sir." durville spoke in steady, if icy tones, as he saluted and made this response. "that is all, mr. durville." "very good, sir." like one frozen, the cadet in unfamiliar attire turned and left the office. "how did you happen to make the discovery, mr. prescott?" gasped the o.c. "i discovered, sir, that i had overlooked this report, which i now turn in, sir," dick replied rather hoarsely. "it was just as i was about to leave the sub-division that mr. durville came in. i had no alternative but to report him, sir." "you are right, mr. prescott. as a cadet officer you had no alternative." then, with a memory of his own west point days, lieutenant denton unbent enough to remark feelingly: "you have unassailable courage, too, mr. prescott." "thank you, sir." "is that all?" "you have finished your official business?" "yes, sir." "good night," mr. prescott. "good night, sir." saluting, dick turned from the office. as he pushed open the door and reentered the subdivision, he beheld durville, standing there with arms folded. "possibly at the risk of being reported for breaking my arrest, mr. prescott," began durville, "i have lingered here to say to you that you have succeeded in wreaking a most complete revenge upon one who led a bit in having the silence conferred upon you." all dick's reserve melted for an instant. "durville, man---you---don't believe i did this for---for revenge?" prescott demanded. cadet durville smiled sarcastically. "i shall undoubtedly be broken for this night's affair, mr. prescott, and you and the rest will continue to believe that i was absent merely on some vulgar escapade! i go, now, to my arrest, which is doubtless the last military service i shall be called upon to render. mr. prescott, i congratulate you, sir, upon your ability to spy upon other men and to serve your highest ideas of suitable vengeance." gloomily durville turned to his room. dick almost stumbled to his own quarters. greg holmes's face blanched when he heard the news. "there'll be fine class ructions by to-morrow!" he told himself with unwonted grimness. chapter ix the class takes final action by the time the corps of cadets was seated at breakfast, in the great mess hall, the following morning, the news began to circulate rapidly. it was discussed in low tones at every table save that at which the silence against prescott prevailed. the silence by this time had ceased to be literal, except so far as it applied to dick. other cadets at his table talked among themselves, though never to prescott. greg, being dick's roommate, was the sole cadet exempted from this rule. but the men at prescott's table restrained their curiosity until the two battalions had marched back to barracks and had been dismissed. after the dismissal of the companies dick and greg strolled along slowly. wherever they passed backs were turned to them, though this would not have happened to holmes had he been alone. though the news was discussed, no class action was taken. this must not be done until durville's fate had overtaken him. otherwise, the military academy authorities might take such action as defiant and visit a more severe penalty upon cadet durville. for five days durville remained in close arrest. this meant, to the initiated, that the superintendent had taken up the matter with the war department at washington. on the sixth day durville was once more sent for by the commandant of cadets. his sentence was handed out to him. on account of an academic reputation of high grade, and a hitherto good-conduct report, mr. durville was not dropped from the corps. had the offender, before leaving west point in "cits.," gone to the cadet guard house and made any false report concerning his absence, nothing could have saved him from dismissal for making a false official report. all things being taken into consideration, cadet durville was "let off" with loss of privileges up to the time of semi-annual examinations, with, in addition, the walking of punishment tours every saturday afternoon during the same period. now the gathering wrath broke loose upon dick. a class meeting was called, that neither prescott nor holmes could attend with propriety. durville, as a matter of policy, did not attend, but there were not wanting first classmen who looked upon durville as a sacrifice, and who were fully capable of presenting his side of the case at the meeting. upon anstey, as on a former occasion, fell the task of making prescott's side clear. the class meeting had not been in session many minutes when dick's accusers had made it rather plain that mr. prescott, following his previous course with jordan, had revenged himself also on durville, who had taken an active part in securing the imposition of the silence. anstey took the floor in a fiery defence. he brought forth the statement that prescott had not made any attempt to pry into the goings or comings of the unlucky durville. the virginian declared that prescott had happened to be abroad in time to "catch" mr. durville, simply because prescott had started for the office of the officer in charge with an official paper that he had been tardy about turning in. though anstey dwelt upon this side of the case with consummate oratory, the defence was regarded as "too transparent." anstey's good faith was not questioned, but prescott's was. in the turmoil the office of class president was declared vacant. anstey was nominated for the office just made vacant, but, with cold politeness, he refused what, at any other time, would have been a high honor. cadet douglass was presently elected class president. then further action was taken with regard to cadet richard prescott. without further debate a motion was carried that prescott be sent to coventry for good and all. the class meeting adjourned, and upon greg holmes, who was informed by anstey, fell the task of carrying the decision to dick. "i expected it, holmesy," was dick's quiet reply. "buck up, anyway, old ramrod," begged greg. "this terrible mess will all be straightened out before graduation." "not in time to do me any good," replied dick gloomily. "now what do you mean?" but dick closed his jaws firmly. greg knew better than to press his questioning further, just then. he contented himself with crossing the room, resting both hands on dick's shoulders. "now, old ramrod, just remember this: into every life a good deal of trouble comes. it is up to each fellow, in his own case, to show how much of a man he is. the fellow who lies down, or runs away, isn't a man. the fellow who fights his trouble out to a grim finish, is a man every inch of his five or six feet! the class is wild, just now, but on misinformation. fight it out! enemies of yours have brought you to this pass. don't run away! all your friends are with you as much as ever they were." dick was a good deal affected. "believe me, greg, whatever i decide on doing won't be in the line of running away. whatever i decide upon will be what i finally believe to be for the best good of the service." "humph!" muttered greg, looking wonderingly at his chum. in the closing period of the next forenoon dick's section did not recite. greg's did. so prescott was left alone in the room with his books. despite himself, greg was so worried, during that recitation, that he "fessed cold"---that is, he secured a mark but a very little above zero. as soon as the returning section was dismissed cadet holmes, his heart beating fast, hurried to his room. there sat dick, at the study table, as greg had left him. but prescott had pushed his textbooks aside. before him rested only a sheet of paper. with pen in hand prescott wrote something at the bottom just as holmes entered the room. then dick looked up with a half cheery face. "i've done it, greg," he announced simply, in a hard, dry voice. "done it?" echoed cadet holmes. "what?" "i have written my resignation as a member of the corps of cadets, united states military academy." "bosh!" roared cadet holmes in a great rage. "the resignation is written, signed, and---it sticks!" returned dick prescott with quiet emphasis. chapter x lieutenant denton's straight talk "let me have that paper!" demanded greg, darting forward. there was fire in cadet holmes's eyes and purpose in his heart as he reached forward to snatch the sheet from the desk. yet dick prescott stepped before him, thrusting him quietly aside with a manner that was not to be overridden. "don't touch it, greg!" he ordered in a low voice that was none the less compelling. "but you shan't send that resignation in!" quivered greg. "my dear boy, you know very well that i shall!" "have you no thought for me?" cadet holmes demanded. "my going may put you in a blue streak for a week, old fellow, but it will put me in a blue streak for a lifetime. yet there's no other way for me. what's the use of being an ostracized officer in the service? with you, greg, old chum, it is different. you will, after a little, be very happy in the army." "happy in the---nothing!" exploded greg. "i told you, weeks ago, that if you quit the service, i would do the same thing." "but you won't," urged dick. "in these weeks you have had time to reflect and turn sensible." "do you suppose i care to go on, old chum, if you don't?" "yes," answered dick quietly. "and if the case were reversed, and you were resigning, i should go on just the same and stick in the service. why, greg, if we both went on into the army, and under the happiest conditions, we wouldn't be together, anyway. you might be in one regiment, down in florida, and i in another out in the philippines. when i was serving in cuba, you'd be in alaska. don't be foolish, greg. i've got to leave, but there's no earthly reason why you should. your resigning would be mistaken loyalty to me, and would cast no rebuke or regret over the cadet corps or the army. the fellows who are going to stick would simply feel that one weak-kneed chap had dropped by the wayside. they'd merely march on and forget you." "there goes the first call for dinner formation," cried holmes, wheeling and beginning his hasty preparations. "that's better," laughed dick, as he shoved his resignation into the drawer of the table. then dick, too, made his hurried preparations. second call found them ready to watch the forming of a company. at the command dick gave his own company order: "fours right! forward---march!" away went a company, at the head of the corps, the whole long line giving forth the rhythmic sound of marching feet. no outsider could have guessed that the young senior cadet captain was utterly discredited by the majority of his class, and that he was about to drop hopelessly out of this stirring life. on the return from dinner dick went at once to his room. "what are you going to do?" demanded greg impatiently, as prescott seated himself at the study table. "i am going to address an envelope to hold the sheet of paper of which you so much disapprove." greg knew it was useless to expostulate. instead, he hurried out, found anstey, and called the virginian so that both could stand in the place where they would be sure to see prescott if he attempted to come out. feverishly, in undertones, greg confided the news to anstey. "i don't just see what we can do, suh," answered the southerner with a puzzled look. "prescott is doing, suh, just what i reckon i'd do myself, suh, if i were in his place." "but we can't lose him," urged greg. "i know we'll hate like thunder to, suh. but what can we do? can we beg prescott to stay, and face the cold shoulder, suh, all the time he is here, and in the army afterwards?" "i'm not getting much comfort out of you, anstey," muttered greg grimly. "and that, suh, is because i don't see where the comfort comes in. holmesy, don't think i'm not suffering, suh. it'll break my heart to see old ramrod drop out of the corps." "then you don't think we can stop prescott?" "i reckon i don't holmesy. this is the kind of matter, suh, that every man must settle for himself. if i were a much older man, holmesy, with much more experience in the army, i reckon i might be able to give him some very sound advice. but as it is, suh, i know i can't." when greg returned to the room he found dick preparing books and papers to march to the next section recitation. "what have you done with that resignation of yours?" growled greg. "it's in that drawer," replied dick, with a weary smile, "and i rely on you, old fellow, not to do anything to it. it would only give me all the pain over again if i had to rewrite it." "dick, can nothing change your mind?" "i have thought it all over, old friend." the call for section formation sounded, and both hurried away. later, dick's section returned a full minute and a half ahead of the one to which holmes belonged. "now's the time!" muttered dick, opening the drawer and slipping the envelope into the breast of his blouse. then he hurried out, crossing the quadrangle to the cadet guard house. cadet holmes, in section ranks, marched into the quadrangle in time just to catch a glimpse of prescott's disappearing back. going up the stairs, dick knocked on the door of the office of the o.c. "come in!" called the officer in charge, who proved to be none other than lieutenant denton again. "what is it, mr. prescott?" inquired the army officer, as prescott, saluting, advanced to the officer's desk, then halted, standing at attention. "sir, i have come to ask for some information." "what is it, mr. prescott?" "sir, i have a paper, addressed to the superintendent. i do not know whether i should take it to the adjutant's office, or whether i should forward it through this office." "i thought you understood your company paper work, mr. prescott," smiled lieutenant denton. "i think i do, sir; but this kind of paper i have never had to put in before." "what kind of paper is it?" "my resignation, sir," replied dick quietly. lieutenant denton looked almost as much astonished as he felt. "what?" he choked. then a slight smile came into his face. "oh, i think i begin to understand, mr. prescott. you wish more time for your studies, and so you are resigning your post as captain of a company." "this is my resignation, sir, from the corps of cadets." lieutenant denton looked utterly nonplussed. "oh, very good, mr. prescott. if you are bent on leaving the military academy, i presume i have no right to demand your reasons. but---won't you sit down?" the lieutenant pointed to a chair near his own. "thank you, sir," nodded prescott. taking off his fatigue cap, he dropped into the chair, though he sat very erect. "now," smiled mr. denton, "perhaps we can drop, briefly, some of the relation between officer and cadet. we may be able to talk as friends---real friends. i trust so. may i feel at liberty to ask you, mr. prescott, whether there are any urgent family reasons behind this sudden move of yours?" "none, sir." "then is it---but i don't wish to be intrusive." "i certainly don't consider you intrusive, mr. denton, and i appreciate your sympathy and friendship. but i am resigning from the corps for the best of good reasons." "may i question you, mr. prescott?" "if you care to, sir." "i do wish it, very much," rejoined lieutenant denton, "though i have asked your consent because, in what i am now seeking to do, i am going rather beyond my place as a tactical officer of the military academy. if you are sure, however, that you do not find me intrusive, and if you would like to talk this matter over---not as officer and cadet, but as between a young man and a somewhat older one, and as friends above all, then i am going to ask you a few questions." "although i am certain that you cannot help me, mr. denton, i am very grateful for every sign of interest that you may show in me. it is something of balm to me to feel that i shall leave behind some who will regret my going." "prescott," asked the officer abruptly, "you have been sent to coventry, haven't you? you needn't answer unless you wish." "i have, sir," dick assented. "twice it has happened, when i have been on duty, that you have had to report classmates to me. now, i'm not going to step over the line by asking you whether those reports were the basis of your being sent to coventry. but, to please myself, i'm going to assume that such is the case." to this dick made no reply. it was an instance in which a cadet could not, with propriety, discuss class action with an officer on duty at the military academy. "now, prescott, i'm not going to ask you whether my surmise is a correct one, but i'm going to ask you another question, as a friend only, and in no official way. of course, in a friendly matter you may suit yourself about answering it. have you done anything else that could excuse the class in punishing you?" "nothing whatever, sir." "mr. prescott, aren't you wholly satisfied with your conduct?" "i don't quite know how to answer that, mr. denton," "have you done anything that you wouldn't repeat if the need arose?" "i have not, sir," replied dick with great earnestness. "do you feel, in your own soul, that you have done anything to discredit the splendid old gray uniform that you wear?" "i do not, sir." "answer this, or not, as you please. don't you feel wholly convinced that your class has done you an injustice which it would reverse instantly if it knew all the circumstances?" "i feel certain that my classmates would restore me at once to their favor, if they knew the full circumstances." "have you felt obliged to refuse them any information for which a class committee had asked, prescott?" "yes, sir." "let me do some hard thinking, my lad. ah, now, as i look back to the night when you were obliged to report mr. jordan for being outside the guard lines, i had myself that night assigned you to official duty near the guard lines. you were to intercept plebes who might try to run the guard, and to send them back to their tents." "yes, sir." "that was special duty," resumed lieutenant denton. "now, if you had been asked, by a class committee, to explain how you happened to be out there at the right time to catch mr. jordan, you would have felt bound to refuse to reveal your orders from me?" "i certainly would have felt so bound, mr. denton." "ah! now i think i understand a good deal, prescott. then, at another time, very recently, you forgot, until late, to turn in an official report to me. you started to hurry over here, and, in so doing, you must have accidentally encountered a certain cadet returning in "cit." clothes. as his company commander, you surely felt bound to report him for so flagrant a breach of discipline. yet, if your class did not fully understand or credit the fact that only an oversight of yours had thrown you in that cadet's way, it would make the class feel that you had deliberately trapped the man, after having spied on his actions earlier in the evening." dick remained silent, but lieutenant denton was a clear headed and logical guesser. "in my cadet days," smiled the lieutenant, "such a suspicion against a cadet officer would certainly have resulted in ostracism for him." "now, prescott," asked the officer in charge, leaning over and resting a friendly hand on the cadet's arm, "you feel that you have been, throughout, a gentleman and a good soldier, and that you have not done anything sneaky?" "that is my opinion of myself, mr. denton." "and yet, feeling that your course has been wholly honorable, you are going to throw up your career in the army, and waste some twenty thousand dollars of the nation's money that has been expended in giving you your training here?" "it sounds like a fearful thing to do, mr. denton, but i can see no way out of it, sir. if i am to go on into the army, and be an ostracized officer, i should be of no value to myself or to the service. wherever i should go, my usefulness would be gone and my presence demoralizing." "now, if that ostracism continued, your usefulness would be gone, prescott, beyond a doubt, and the army would be better off without you. but if justice should triumph, later, you would be restored to your full usefulness, and to the full enjoyment of your career. now, prescott, my boy"---here the officer's voice became tender, friendly, earnest---"you have been attending chapel every sunday?" "yes, sir." "you have listened to the chaplain's discourses, and i take it that you have had earlier religious instruction, also. prescott, do you or do you not believe that there is a god above who sees all, loves all and rights all injustice in his own good time?" "assuredly i believe it, sir." "and yet, in your own case, you have so little faith in that justice that, though you feel your course has been honorable, you cannot wait for justice to be done. prescott, isn't that kind of faith almost blasphemy?" dick felt staggered. although his lot had been cast with army officers for more than three years, he had never heard any of them, save the chaplain, discuss matters of christian faith. yet he knew that denton, who sat beside him, smiling with friendly eyes, was talking from full conviction. "you've made me see my present predicament in a somewhat different light, sir," dick stammered. "prescott, i have knocked about in a good deal of rough life since i was graduated from here, but i have full faith that every upright and honorable man is ultimately safe under heaven's justice. so have you, or i am mistaken in you. why not buck up, and make up your mind to go through your hard rub here firm in the conviction that this is only a passing cloud that is certain to be dispelled? why not stick, like a man of faith and honor? now, as officer in charge, i will inform you that you should take a letter of resignation to the adjutant's office, and hand it to that officer in person." as your friend, i suggest that you give me your letter, with your permission to destroy it." "here is the letter, mr. denton." "thank you, my boy. you may see what i do with it." rising, lieutenant denton crossed to an open fire that was burning low. he laid the envelope across the embers. prescott, too, rose, feeling that the interview was at an end. "just a moment more of friendly conversation, prescott," continued the lieutenant, coming forward and taking the cadet's hand. "i want you to remember that you are not to write or send in any other letter of resignation until you have first talked it over with me. and i want you to remember that a soldier should be a man of faith as well as of honor. further, prescott, you may feel yourself wholly at liberty to explain, at any time, what your orders from me were that led to your catching and reporting mr. jordan." "thank you, sir; but i'm afraid i shan't be asked for any further explanations." "seek me, at any time, if there is anything you wish to ask me, or anything that puzzles you." "yes, sir; thank you." dick had again placed his fatigue cap on his head, and was standing rigidly at attention. they were once more tactical officer and cadet. "that is all, mr. prescott, and i am very glad that you came to see me," continued the officer in charge. prescott saluted, received the officer's acknowledging salute, turned and left the office. a minute later he was allowing good old greg to pump the details of that interview out of him. "say," muttered cadet holmes, staring soberly at his chum, "an officer like lieutenant denton can put a different look on things, can't be?" "he certainly can, greg." "i'm not going to be fresh, while i'm a cadet," continued holmes. "but when i'm an officer i'm going to seek mr. denton and ask him to be my friend, too!" chapter xi the news from franklin field though dick was firmly resolved on his new course, life none the less was bitter for him. the army football team was now being organized and drilled in earnest. douglass captained it this year, and was doing excellent work, though his material was not as good as he could have wished. anstey was developing speed and strategy in the position of quarterback, and, in football matters, was a close confidant of douglass. "this prescott muss has given us a bad setback this year," growled douglass. "it certainly has, suh," agreed the virginian. "we're certainly going to feel the loss of prescott and holmes when we come to face the navy eleven with such men as darrin and dalzell." "hang it, yes. i'm shivering already," growled douglass. "now, of course, we can't ask prescott to join." "and he wouldn't come in, suh, while in coventry, if we asked him." "but holmes, who is almost as good a man, ought not to hold back where the army's credit and honor are at stake. holmes ought to stand for the army, asleep or awake!" "if i were in holmesy's place, i wouldn't come in," rejoined the virginian. "i'd stay out, just as holmesy is doing." "but you were one of prescott's thick friends, too." "i'm not his roommate, or his schoolboy chum, suh. holmesy is. "it's hard to lose either of them," sighed douglass, "and fierce to lose both of them. we've worked like real heroes, but i can't see any such team coming on as the army had last year. and the navy eleven will undoubtedly be better this year than it was last." "the army must stand to lose by the action of the first class," insisted anstey doggedly. though every man in the corps would have thrown up his cap at the announcement that prescott and holmes were to play again this year, the leaders of first-class opinion could see no reason to alter their judgment of dick. so he continued in coventry. the football season came on with a rush at last. the army won some of its games, from minor teams, but none from the bigger college elevens. then came the fateful saturday when the corps went over to philadelphia. dick and greg were the only two members of the corps, not under severe discipline, who remained behind at the military academy. late that afternoon greg, with a long face, brought in the football news from franklin field. "the navy has wiped us up, ten to two," grumbled holmes. "i'm heartily sorry," cried dick, and he spoke the truth. "well, it's our class's fault," growled greg. "the army can thank our class." "we might not have been able to save the game," argued prescott. "we could have rattled dave and dan a lot," retorted greg. "my own belief is we could have saved the day." "you might have played, greg. i wouldn't have resented it." "no; but i'd have felt a fine contempt for myself," retorted cadet holmes scornfully. "besides, dick, though i have done some fairly good things in football, i don't believe i'd be worth a kick without you. it was playing with you that made me shine, always." late that evening the cadet corps returned, in the gloomiest frame of mind. "i can just see the blaze of bonfires at annapolis," groaned douglass. "say, the middies just fairly tore our scalps off. i always had an ambition to captain the army eleven, but i never thought i'd be dragged down so deep under the mire!" the details of that sad game for the army need not be gone into here. all the particulars of that spiritedly fought disaster will be found in the fourth volume of the annapolis series, entitled "_dave darrin's fourth year at annapolis_." a lot of the cadets who felt sorry for "doug" came to his room. "i haven't altogether gotten it through my weak mind yet," confessed the disheartened army football captain. "i can't understand how those little middies managed to treat us quite so badly." "i can tell you," retorted anstey. "then i wish you would," begged "doug." "go ahead!" clamored a dozen others. "i don't know whether you fellows believe in hoodoos?" asked anstey. "hoodoos?" "yes; the army is under one now." "pshaw, anstey!" "explain yourself, anstey!" "there is a man in this class," replied the virginian solemnly, "who has been treated unjustly by the others. lots of you won't see it, and can't be made to reason. but that injustice has put the hoodoo on the army's athletics, and the hoodoo will strut along beside the present first class all the way through this year. you'll find it out more and more as time goes on. just wait until next spring, and see the navy walk away with the baseball game, too." "stop that, anstey!" "put him out!" "give him soothing syrup." "wait until june, gentlemen," retorted the virginian calmly. "then you'll see." "what rot!" sneered jordan bitterly. "well, of course," admitted others in undertones, "we lost through not having prescott and holmes on the eleven. but we'd better lose, even, than win through men not fit to associate with." "prescott must be chuckling," jeered durville. "he's doing nothing of the sort, suh!" flared anstey. "and i'm prepared to maintain my position." chapter xii ready to break the camel's back from thanksgiving to christmas the time seemed to fly all too fast for most of the young men of the corps of cadets. dick prescott, however, had never known time to drag so fearfully. cut off from association with any but greg, dick had much, very much time on his hands. full of a dogged purpose to stick to his word given to lieutenant denton, prescott used nearly all of his waking time in study when he was not at recitation. in his classes he soared. in engineering and law, the studies of this term which called for the most exacting thought, prescott showed unusual signs of "maxing," or getting among the highest marks. yet, after all this was done, so much leisure did the lonely dick have that he found time to coach greg and pull him along over the hard parts. "look at that fellow recite! look where he stands in the sections!" growled durville in bewilderment to jordan. "it looks as if the sneak meant to stick," uttered jordan incredulously. "yet of course he knows he can't. if it were only for west point he might stick, but the army, through his lifetime, would be just as bad for him." it had been a general notion that prescott, either too proud or too stubborn to allow himself to be forced out, would wait and "fess out cold" at the january semi-annuals. thus he would be dropped for deficiency, and would not have to admit to anyone that he had allowed himself to be driven from the military academy by the "silence" that had been extended to him. jordan knew better than to go near the fiery young anstey, so he managed to induce durville to speak to the virginian as to prescott's plans. "i don't know mr. prescott's intentions, suh," replied anstey with perfect truth and a good deal of dignity. "i am bound, suh, to follow the class's action, suh, much as i disapprove of it. so i have had no word with mr. prescott later than you have." "but you know the fellow's roommate, mr. holmes," suggested durville. "i am under the impression that you do, too, suh," replied anstey significantly, yet without infusing offence into his even tones. it was no use. the first class could only guess. no cadet knew, unless it were holmes, what prescott's intentions were about quitting the corps in the near future. and greg, usually both chatty and impulsive, could be as cold and silent as a sphinx where his chum's secrets or interests were concerned. had he wished, he might have gone home at christmas, for a day or two, for he was on the good-conduct roll; but dick felt that christmas at home would be a heart break just now. as he did not go, greg did not go either. the reader may be sure that dave darrin and dan dalzell, at annapolis, knew the state of affairs with their old-time friend and leader. greg had sent word of what was happening with dick. "buck up---that's all, old chap," dave wrote from the naval academy. "you never did a mean thing, and you never will. even your class will learn that before very long. so buck up! hit the center of the line and charge through! don't think dan and i are not sorry for you, but we're even more interested in seeing you charge right through all disaster in a way that fits the pride, courage and honor that we know you to possess. i asked dan if he had any message to send you. old dan's reply was: 'dick doesn't need any message. if there's any fellow on earth who can jump in and scalp fate, it's our old dick.' there you are, army chum! we're merely waiting for word that you've won out, for you're bound to." january came, and with it the semi-annual examinations. so high was dick's class standing that he had to go up for but one "writ." that was spanish. "i reckon spanish is where he falls," chuckled durville, when jordan spoke to him about it. "it's easy to make mistakes enough on spanish verbs and declensions to throw a fellow down and out. that'll be prescott's line." "of course," nodded jordan. yet dick's enemy was very far from feeling hopeful that such would be the case. "i never imagined the fellow could stick as long as he has," jordan told himself disconsolately. one night anstey, just before the semi-ans., took a chance. usually the virginian was careful in matters of discipline. but now he invited a dozen members of his class to his room to discuss an "important matter." "going?" asked durville of jordan. "i'm not invited, durry," replied the other. "i am, and i'm going." "but you don't know the subject of the meeting?" "no; that's what puzzles me," admitted durville. "i'm wondering if it has anything to do with choosing the class ring, or selecting our uniforms for after graduation." "you simpleton!" cried jordan in disgust. "you don't see far, do you? can't you guess what the meeting is to discuss?" "i'm blessed if i can." "anstey, outside of holmes, has been the most constant friend of prescott. now, prescott has his chance of passing, if the class 'silence' on him can be lifted. anstey is going to sound class opinion. if the 'silence' can't be lifted, then prescott is going to 'fess' down and out, and we shall see the last of him." "poor old fellow!" muttered durville. "say, do you know, i'm growing almost sorry for the poor beggar and his long, bitter dose." "after what he did to you?" demanded jordan with instant scorn. "durville, i thought you a man of spirit." "may a man of spirit forgive his enemy, especially when he sometimes doubts whether the other fellow really is an enemy?" demanded durville. "oh, he may, i suppose," replied jordan, his lip curling. "on the whole, however, i am a good deal surprised at seeing you accept the loss of all your liberties and privileges so easily as you are doing." naturally, the effect of jordan's words was to kill a good deal of durville's fleeting sympathy, for the latter had suffered a good deal from the restraint of his liberties, following the escapade for which dick had reported him. the meeting in anstey's room resulted in the secret gathering of a dozen men. eight of these were friends of dick, who would still like to see the class action reversed or ended. but anstey had been clever enough also to invite four men who were numbered among prescott's adversaries. one of these was douglass, the cadet who had been elected to succeed dick as class president. "now, gentlemen," began anstey, in his soft voice of ordinary conversation, "i don't believe we have any need of a presiding officer in this little meeting. with your permission, i will state why i have asked you to come here. "for months, now, we have had a member of this class in coventry. barely more than a majority believed in that coventry, but once action had been taken by the class, the disapproving minority stood loyally by class action. i have been among those of the minority to abide by majority action, and i can assure you that i have suffered very nearly as much as has mr. prescott, whose case i am now discussing. "the majority has had its way for months. is it not now time, if the class will not grant full justice, at least to grant something to the wishes of the minority?" "what do you mean?" asked one of dick's opponents. "mr. prescott will let himself be found deficient in at least one study, won't he, and thus take his unpopular presence away from the military academy?" "i cannot answer that," admitted anstey slowly. "doubtless many of you will be surprised when i tell you that i have had no word in the matter from mr. prescott. i have not even mentioned the subject to his roommate, mr. holmes." "then whom do you represent?" demanded the other cadet. "myself and other believers in mr. prescott," replied anstey simply. "the very least we ask is that you stop punishing so many of us through mr. prescott. gentlemen, do you not feel that any man who commands as many friends in his class as does mr. prescott must be a man above the petty meannesses of which he was accused, and for which he was sent to coventry?" "i've been one of the sufferers through mr. prescott," commented durville grimly. "as for me, i'll admit that i'd be glad to see the 'silence' lifted. i feel that mr. prescott has been punished enough, and that, if we now lift the 'silence,' he would be more careful after this. i think he has been chastened enough. if i could find any reason whatever for refusing to vote for the end of the coventry, it would come from the question as to whether any one class has the right to upset the traditions and establish a new precedent for such cases." "there is the most of the case in a nutshell i am afraid," declared cadet douglass. "in our interior corps discipline we not only work from tradition, but we strengthen or weaken it for the classes that are to follow us. have we any right to weaken a tradition that is as old as the military academy itself?" these simple remarks, made with an absence of bitter feeling, swung the tide against dick. the meeting in anstey's room lasted for more than an hour. when the meeting broke up anstey and some of his advisers felt convinced that to call a class meeting would be merely to bring about a vote that prescott was to be kept in coventry for all time to come. anstey told greg the result of the meeting, but holmes did not tell his chum. "it's all settled as it ought to be," declared cadet jordan. "you mean-----" asked durville. "why, either prescott will have to be 'found' in his exams., or else he'll be bound to resign as soon as he has proved that his departure from west point was not due to poor scholarship. which ever way he prefers to do it, the fellow will have to get out of the corps within the next few days!" "yes; i suppose so," almost sighed durville. "why, hang you, durry, you talk like a man whose good opinion can be won by a kicking." "do you" asked durville, with a warning flash in his eyes. "oh, don't take me too seriously," protested jordan. "but i cannot help marveling at your near liking for the man who landed you in such a scrape." "i don't enjoy hitting a man who is down; that is all," returned durville. "i've seen mr. prescott down for so many weeks and months that i'd like to see how he looks when he's a man instead of an under dog." "well, i'm glad to say the class is plainly not of your way of thinking," growled jordan. "the class is for maintaining higher ideals of the honor of military service and true comradeship. so it's only a matter of what date the fellow selects for leaving here." and truly that was the view that seemed to be pressing more and more tightly upon dick prescott. the pressure was becoming more than he could bear. he had followed lieutenant denton's advice, and had put up a good and a brave fight. but to be "the only dog in a cage of lions" is a fearful ordeal for the bravest---especially when the door is open. greg never seemed to notice the sighs that occasionally escaped dick prescott's lips. holmes no longer tried to cheer his friend by open speech or advice. yet not a thing that dick did escaped the covert watchfulness of his roommate. the semi-ans. over, and the results posted on the bulletin board in the academic building, it was discovered that cadet richard prescott now stood number twenty-four in his class---a rank never heretofore won by him. cadet jordan was so furious that his face was ghastly white when he made the discovery. "will nothing ever drive that living disgrace prescott out of the corps?" jordan asked three or four of the men. "why, the fellow is defying class authority! he's making fools of us all. he bluntly asks us what we think we can do about it!" "we'll have to show prescott, then," grimly replied one of the cadets with whom jordan talked. "but how?" demanded cadet jordan craftily. "is there any possible way of making as thickheaded or stubborn a fellow as prescott realize that he simply can't go on with us? that we won't have him with us?" "oh, i think there's a way," smiled the other cadet. "then i wonder why some one doesn't find it?" demanded jordan wrathfully. "we shall, i think." greg scented new mischief in the air, yet he was hardly the one to do the scouting. anstey, however, could look about for the news, and he could properly discuss it with cadet holmes. with the beginning of the last half of the year the members of the first class found themselves sufficiently busy with their studies. dick's affair was allowed to slumber for a few days. even cadet jordan, whose sole purpose now in life was to "work" prescott out of the corps, was clever enough to assent to letting the matter rest for a few days. after another fortnight, however, the first class, in its moments of leisure, especially in the brief rests right after meals, again began to throb over what was considered the brazen and open defiance of dick prescott in persisting in remaining a cadet at the military academy. so many members of the class, however, insisted on going slowly and with great deliberation that the jordan faction did not make the mistake of rushing matters. at any rate, prescott was in coventry, and there he would stay. thus february came on and passed slowly. to all outward appearances prescott was as selfpossessed and contented as ever he had been while at the military academy. now, army baseball was the topic. the nine and other members of the baseball squad were practising in earnest. durville had been chosen to captain the nine. though there was some mighty good material in the nine, neither the coaches nor durville were wholly satisfied. "holmesy," broached durville plaintively one day, "you play a grand game of football." "thank you," replied greg, with a pretense of mock modesty; "i know it." "and you must play a great game of ball, too." "i did once---pardon these blushes. dick prescott was my old trainer in baseball." "oh, bother prescott! we can't have him." "i don't play well without him," remarked greg blandly. "come over to practice this afternoon, won't you?" "yes; but i don't believe i'll try for the nine." "come over and let us see your style, any way." greg turned up late that afternoon for practice. what he showed the captain and coaches had them fairly "rattled" with desire to slip greg into the nine. "i'm much obliged to you all," greg insisted gently, "but i told you i wasn't going to try for the nine. i never played a game without prescott, and i know i'd be a hoodoo if i did." though a great lot of pressure was brought to bear upon him, holmes still held out. it was his privilege to refuse to play, if he so chose. above all, the coaches, who were army officers, could not urge him. "that man holmes is just the fellow we need to round out the team," complained one of the players to durville. "yes," sighed the captain of the army nine; "and holmesy tells me that he's a tyro to mr. prescott." "then mr. prescott must be a wonder on the diamond," grunted the other cadet. "i hear that he is," assented durville. "by the way, you remember darrin and dalzell, who helped the navy team to wipe the field up with us last year?" "i reckon i do." "well, it seems that prescott, holmes, darrin and dalzell were all members of the athletic squad in the same high school before they entered the service." "darrin and dalzell are going to make it possible for the navy to wipe us up again this year, too," continued the other cadet plaintively. "i don't believe they would, if we could put in mr. prescott and holmesy for this year." "but we can't, durry." "no; i know it." "so what's the use of talking." nevertheless, there was a lot of talking, and dozens waylaid greg and tried to induce him to reconsider. but he wouldn't, and that was all there was to it. no one even thought of lifting the ban from prescott in order to gain either or both of these cadet athletes. west point cadets are consistent. they will never lift the ban, once they believe it to have been justly laid, just in order to make a better athletic showing. the academy authorities demand that a team athlete shall stand well in his studies and general discipline; the cadets themselves demand also that the man who carries their athletic colors must conform to cadet ideals of honor. and prescott, being in coventry, surely was not to be regarded as a man of honor. washington's birthday had come and passed, and prescott still lingered in the cadet corps. indeed, he seemed as determined as ever upon graduating. there were limits, however, to class patience. it was anstey who got on the track of the news and brought it to greg. "a class meeting is to be called ten days hence," reported the virginian. "the meeting will be announced at supper formation to-night. it is set well ahead in order to give the fellows plenty of time to think over the subject for discussion." "that discussion," guessed holmes, "is to be as to the best means of driving dick from the corps." "you've guessed it, suh," replied the virginian sorrowfully. "whatever the class feels called upon to do, suh, i reckon it will be something that will break our poor camel's back." chapter xiii the figures in the dark and dick? the reader will hardly need to be told that this spirited young cadet was suffering his unmerited disgrace as keenly as ever. more keenly, in fact, for every day that the silence continued it seemed to add to the weight of the burden that bound him down. yet greg asked no questions, for he felt that it would be safer not to do so. he had just barely told prescott of the purpose of the coming class meeting, which the latter cadet had already guessed for himself, however. "i suppose i'll have a few loyal friends at that meeting?" asked dick, with a sad smile. "just as many friends as ever," asserted holmes stoutly. "i'm mighty grateful for that," nodded dick. "but what i seem to need is more friends than ever." "we'll find them for you, if there's any way to do it," promised holmes, and there the talk dropped. "if the class goes against me again, and harder than before, i'm certain i shall have to see lieutenant denton once more and tell him that i can't stand it any longer," dick told himself. the class meeting was to be held on a monday evening. on the night of the saturday before, when scores of cadets were over at cullum hall at a merry "hop," prescott slipped out of barracks by himself in greg's absence. almost unconsciously prescott's steps turned in the direction of trophy point. in the darkness he stood before battle monument, on which are inscribed the names of the west point graduates who have fallen in battles. "will my name ever be there, or have any chance to be there?" wondered dick, a big lump rising in his throat. a tear stood in either eye, but he brushed them aside as unworthy of a soldier. was he ever going to be a soldier, he wondered. "i don't know that i'm really ready to be killed in battle," thought dick grimly. "it would be enough to know that my name is to be on the roll of graduates of the military academy, and afterwards on the rolls of the army as an officer who had served with credit wherever he had been placed. but the fates seem against even that much. hang it all, what was it that lieutenant denton said about faith and right, and faith being as much the soldier's duty as honor? i guess he was never placed in just such a fix as mine!" for, slowly, all of dick's iron-clad resolution to "stick it out" was wearing away. it was becoming plainer to him, every day, that he could not stay in the army if he were always to live in coventry as far as his brother officers were concerned. "i wonder what the fellows will do at the meeting next monday night?" dick pondered, as he turned and strolled back by another road. "if the fellows could only realize how unjust they are without meaning to be! but i can't make them see that. i'll have to resign, of course, but i promised lieutenant denton to talk it over with him before doing anything of the sort, and i'll keep my word." very absent minded did the young cadet become in the midst of his perplexed musings. he heard the sound of martial music and unconsciously his feet moved in quicker time. it was as though he were marching, led on by he knew not what. straight toward the music he moved, with the tread of a soldier responding to the drums. then, at last, when he was almost upon the building, prescott came to himself and stopped abruptly. "cullum hall!" he muttered, with a harsh laugh. "the night of the cadet hop. my classmates are in there, free-hearted and happy, and taking their lessons in the social graces---while i am on the outside, the social outcast of the class!" yet, as there were no cadets in sight, out at this north end of the handsome building, prescott presently moved forward, nearer. "the old, old story of the beggar on the outside! the man on the outside, looking in!" muttered dick with increasing bitterness. "yet i may as well look, since there is none to see me or deny me." around the north end dick passed, just as the brilliant music of the military academy orchestra was drawing to its close. in his misery the young cadet leaned against the face of the building, behind an angle in the wall. as he stood there dick saw the figure of a man flit, by him. the stranger was dressed in citizen's clothes. there was nothing suspicions in that, since there is no law to prevent citizens from visiting the military academy. but there was something stealthy about this stranger's movements. "it is a wonder he didn't see me," mused dick. "he went by within eight feet of me." dick was about to make his presence known by stepping out into sight, when the stranger halted. "perhaps it may be as well not to show myself just yet," flashed through prescott's mind. "if the fellow is up to any mischief probably i can prevent it." a cold, biting breeze swept up from the hudson river below. it was chilling in the extreme, here at the top of the bluff, but dick, in his misery, had been proof against weather. not so with the stranger. he stamped his feet and struck his hands against his sides. then, after some moments, as though angry at some one within cullum hall, the stranger wheeled and shook one clenched fist at the windows overhead. "whom has that fellow a grouch against?" dick wondered in spite of himself. just an instant later he heard a quick step coming around the north end of the building. a cadet was coming, beyond a doubt, and very likely to meet this impatient or angry stranger. prescott had too much honor to play the eavesdropper. he was just about to step out when the newcomer turned the corner, coming on straight past where prescott stood in the deep shadow. the newcomer was a cadet, and that cadet was mr. jordan. "well, my good fellow, have i kept you waiting long?" demanded jordan, just the second after he had stepped past dick without seeing the latter. "you could a jumped faster," growled the stranger. "with all i know against you, jordan, it will pay you to nurse my good feeling a little harder." "why, what's the matter with you now?" demanded jordan more seriously. somehow, dick could not pull himself away just then. "have you brought me some of that money you owe me?" demanded the stranger gruffly. "now, you know i can't, before graduation day," pleaded jordan whiningly. "and i know that, when graduation day comes, you'll tell me that every dollar you had in the world had to go into uniforms," snapped the stranger. "i'll tell you what i do know about you, jordan, my boy. i know that if you don't find the money, turn it over and get back my note, you'll never graduate! cadets can't borrow money on their notes; it's against the regulations. if it was known that you had borrowed five hundred dollars of me already, and that you were defaulting on principal and interest, too-----" "it wasn't five hundred," broke in jordan nervously. "it was just two hundred and fifty dollars." "the note says five hundred," retorted the stranger tersely, with a shrug of his shoulders. and there's interest on it, too. and you haven't paid a dollar. you told me you could get the money from home." "i---i thought i could, at that," stammered cadet jordan. "but i wrote my father, and he said he was near bankruptcy-----" "near bankruptcy?" almost screamed the stranger. "you young swindler. you told me your father was a wealthy man!" "sh!" begged jordan tremulously. "not so loud! some one will hear you." "i don't care who hears me," retorted the stranger in an ugly tone. "you've been swindling me right along, it seems. now, you'll hand me some money to-night, and all of the balance by next wednesday, or i'll go straight to the superintendent. then you'll lose your nice little berth here. you putting on airs, and yet you told me how you had rebuked and paid back another cadet for doing the same breezy thing." dick, his cheeks burning with the shame of having allowed himself to listen to so much, was on the very point of slipping away around the north end of cullum hall. but this last remark gripped him, holding him feverishly to the spot. "prescott, i believe you said the fellow's name was," went on the stranger. "yes," admitted jordan. "and i put it all over him in a way that should make anyone else afraid of having me for an enemy!" dick's heart gave a great, almost strangling bound. then it was quiet again, and his ears seemed preternaturally keen. so sharp was his hearing, in fact, that he heard a sound that did not reach the ears of the other cadet or the latter's companion. it was someone else coming. with all the stealth in the world dick now managed to slip around the end of the building and toward the front. a cadet had stepped out as though seeking a breath of cool air between dances. dick darted forward on tiptoe until he recognized the oncoming one. it was douglass, president of the first class. "mr. douglass!" whispered dick, stopping squarely before his successor in class honors. douglass, without looking at his appealing fellow classman, or opening his lips to answer, stepped around prescott. but dick caught his unwilling comrade firmly by the arm. "douglass," he whispered, "in the name of justice, listen to me just an instant---a swift instant, too! i think the chance has come to clear me of the load of dislike and contempt with which i am regarded here. this appeal is between man and man! jordan is around the corner, telling a stranger how he trapped me and got me into disgrace with the class. as a matter of cadet justice and honor, i beg you to go softly to the corner and hear what is being said. do not let jordan suspect that you are near. what he is saying will clear me. go, and go softly, i beg you, as a matter of justice from one man to another!" all the time that dick had held his arm douglass had stood there, not seeking to snatch himself free. nor did he utter a word. the class president stood there, like a statue, looking straight past prescott, as though he did not know that such a being existed anywhere in the world. now, with despair tugging at his heart, prescott released his hold. cadet douglass moved forward again. dick stood watching his brother cadet with a feeling of despair until he saw that douglass was moving softly. dick saw him go quietly around the corner of the building. now, dick was at his heels, stealthy as any indian could have been, until he looked around the corner and saw that cadet douglass had slipped into the same shadow that dick himself had occupied until a moment before. "now, if that pair yonder will only go on talking about me for sixty seconds!" thought dick in a frenzy. again he flew toward the front of the building. there was just one other cadet outside---durville, the man whom he had been obliged to report for a tremendously grave breach of discipline. but dick prescott's courage was up now. he raced forward, fairly gripping durville and holding him tight. "durville, listen to me for just a moment," begged dick. "i know you don't like me, but you're a man of honor. jordan is on the east side of this building, and i believe he is confessing a plot that he put into successful operation against me. douglass is already there listening. will you slip there softly, and listen, too? i don't ask this as a matter of friendship, but of honor! will you go---and softly?" slowly durville turned and looked into prescott's eyes. then he did not speak, but he nodded. "thank you, durville! be quick---and stealthy! let me guide you." class president douglass stood in the shadow. he heard jordan's own tongue telling the stranger the familiar story of how he, jordan, had been reported for indolence in the bridge construction work. "i had to get square," jordan was continuing, just as dick piloted durville within hearing. "and you think you did it slickly, i suppose?" jeered the stranger. though jordan did not seem to suspect it, the stranger was seeking this information as another blackmailing club to hold over jordan's head. "slick?" queried jordan, with a sneer. "well, it wasn't altogether that. there was a good bit of luck in the whole job, too, but prescott is in coventry, and there he'll stick, too. he'll be away from here inside of two or three days more." "how did you manage to do it?" asked the stranger, concealing his anxiety to have jordan tell the story. chapter xiv the story carried on the wind "oh, i fixed it all right," insisted jordan confidently. he was speaking in a rather low tone, but the breeze carried every word to the ears of the listeners. "you're talking just to hear yourself talking," sneered the stranger coarsely. "no; i'm not, henckley," retorted the cadet. "what was the trick, then?" "don't you wish you knew?" laughed jordan. "i don't care much," replied the stranger named henckley. "but i can't just picture you as doing anything extremely clever. even if it was luck, as you say, i can't figure how you were smart enough to know how to profit by it. that's why i'm just a bit curious, but no more." "why, you see, it happened this way," went on jordan. "i saw prescott, that night back into camp, going into the tent of the o.c. i thought that perhaps prescott was going there in order to say more about the matter that he had reported me for that forenoon. so i moved close and listened. it seemed that some of the plebes had been running the guard nights. lieutenant denton asked the fellow prescott, who is a cadet captain, to keep a watch and stop plebes before they had a chance to get on the other side of the guard line. "well, i knew the point at which plebes were in the habit of getting past the guard line, and so did prescott, i guess. so, a little after taps, i slipped outside the guard near where i judged prescott would be watching. then, after i had heard him speak with the cadet sentry i presently stooped low in the bushes and lit a cigar. then i stood up straight and the glowing end of the cigar showed from where prescott stood. he did just what a fellow like him feels bound to do, and what i knew he'd do. he hailed me. i acted as though i wanted to get away, then allowed myself to be overhauled. i was reported, of course, and made to pay the penalty. but i was able to make the other fellows in the class believe that prescott had trailed me, on purpose to rub it into me. that looked like over zeal, backed by a grudge, and the first class swallowed it in fine shape. they gave him the silence, but had not made it permanent coventry. then he caught another man, named durville, for going off the post in 'cit.' clothes, and that settled the case against that fellow prescott. but it was my trick that made all the rest possible." "i don't see that that was anything very clever," rejoined henckley. "i told you, didn't i," argued jordan, "that it was as much luck as cleverness." "what part of it was clever, anyway?" jeered henckley. "why, putting the whole game through, and making the class take it up, yet doing it all so that the trick could never be traced back to me," replied jordan. in the shadow, durville turned briskly, gripping dick's hand with his own. douglass saw. after a bare instant's hesitation the class president also took prescott's hand, giving it a mighty squeeze. in the joy of that friendly grasp from his own classmen, dick prescott almost felt that all the bitterness of the last few months had been wiped out in a second. then douglass stepped out from the shadow, his face stern and set. "perhaps you will want to stop talking, mr. jordan," he called. "your conversation has not been a private one!" with the strong wind blowing away from jordan, that cadet heard only a rumble of voices. both he and henckley, however, caught sight of the advancing figures. "hello! what are you fellows doing here?" demanded the money lender, with blustering indignation. "i might ask that question of you, fellow, but i won't, for i already know," replied cadet douglass, fixing his eyes on the stranger. "you've been listening to our talk?" demanded henckley angrily, while jordan, after his first gasp of dismay, seemed to shrivel back against the wall of cullum hall. "mr. jordan," continued the class president, facing the dismayed one in gray uniform, "i don't believe the significance of this meeting has escaped you?" "no-o-o," wailed jordan in misery. "now, see here, young fellows, don't you go and blab what you've been spying on just now," remonstrated mr. henckley, a note of dismay creeping into his tone. "it can hardly concern you, sir," flashed cadet douglass, wheeling upon the money shark. "yet i suppose it does, too. for now i do not see how mr. jordan can hope to remain at the military academy. that, i suppose, may possibly affect your security for the money which, i take it, mr. jordan has borrowed from you." "but you won't blab, and have him kicked out?" coaxed mr. henckley, his voice now wholly wheedling. "what the cadets may see fit to do for their own protection is hardly a matter that can be discussed with you, sir," returned douglass coldly. "oh, now see here, there are ways and ways," spoke henckley in a wheedling tone. "let's all be friendly." before douglass could guess what was happening the money shark had pressed a hand against the cadet's. with an impatient gesture douglass shook his own hand free. but something like paper remained in his palm. douglass held up that hand, and discovered that it held a banknote that henckley had slipped into douglass' hand as a bribe. cadet douglass calmly tore that banknote in bits and flung it off on the breeze. the fragments were out of sight in an instant. then douglass coolly knocked the money shark down. "come along, fellows," spoke the class president quietly, and turned on his heel. "confound you, mr. fresh, i'll report this to the superintendent," bellowed henckley. "do!" called douglass in cool contempt over his shoulder. douglass, durville and prescott tramped together around to the front of cullum hall. there douglass again paused to hold out his hand, remarking: "mr. prescott, the class meeting is not to be held until monday evening. all i am privileged to say is that i think what we have overheard tonight will very materially affect the class action. i am very grateful to you, my dear sir, for having called us." durville, too, held out his hand in sign that the past grudge was forgotten so far as he was concerned. full of a new happiness, dick trudged back to cadet barracks. finding greg holmes in, prescott imparted the wonderful news. greg leaped up delightedly, pumphandling his chum's arm and patting him on the back. "come out all right?" sputtered holmes. "of course it will, and i always knew it would." meanwhile cadet jordan was surveying henckley with a look of mingled rage, disgust and consternation. "now, you've gone and done it, you bull-necked, toad-brained idiot!" cried the elegant mr. jordan. "why didn't you pay up like a man, and this would never have happened," growled henckley, rubbing the spot where douglass had struck him. "pay up like a man?" sneered jordan. "well, this affair has one small, good side to it. you've got me run out of the cadet corps, but-----" "out of the cadet corps?" screamed henckley. "then what becomes of what you owe me?" "that's something you'll have to settle to your own satisfaction," jeered the dismayed cadet. "i can offer you no help." jordan turned on his heel, starting to walk away, when mr. henckley leaped after him, seizing him by the arm. "see here-----" began the money shark hoarsely. "let go of my arm," warned jordan in a rage, "or i'll hit you harder than douglass did." as the money lender shrank back out of jordan's reach, the cadet strode off swiftly. mr. jordan was in his bed when the subdivision inspector went through the rooms that night. at morning roll call, however, jordan did not answer. an investigation showed that he had gone. all his uniforms and other equipment he had left behind, from which it was judged that jordan had, in some way, managed to get hold of an outfit of civilian attire. jordan had deserted, with a heart full of hate for dick prescott, with whom the deserter swore to be "even" before the academic year was out. chapter xv the class meeting "sizzles" that sunday, save greg, none of the cadets addressed prescott. anstey, however, thought up a new way of getting around the "silence." as he passed dick, the virginian winked very broadly. other cadets were quick to catch the idea. wherever dick went that sunday he was greeted with winks. monday dick was in a fever of excitement. for once he fared badly in his marks won in the section rooms. when evening came around every member of the first class, save prescott, hurried off to class meeting. for the first time in many months, greg attended. as the cadets began to gather, excitement ran high. the room was full of suppressed noise until president douglass rapped sharply for order. then, instantly all became as still as a church. "will mr. fullerton please take the chair?" asked the class president. "the present presiding officer wishes the privileges of the floor." amid more intense silence fullerton went forward to the chair, while douglass stepped softly down to the floor. "mr. chairman," called douglass. "mr. douglass has the floor." douglass was already on his feet, of course. he plunged into an accurate narrative of what had happened, and what he had overheard, on saturday night. he told it all without embellishment or flourish, and wound up by calling attention to jordan's plain enough desertion from the corps. durville then obtained the floor. he corroborated all that the class president had just narrated. "may i now make a motion, sir?" demanded durville, turning finally toward the class president. "yes," nodded cadet douglass. "mr. chairman, i move that the first class, united states military academy, remove the coventry and the silence that have been put upon our comrade, mr. richard prescott. i move that, by class resolution, we express to him our regret for the great though unintentional injustice that has been done mr. prescott during these many months." "i second the motion!" shouted douglass. it was carried amid an uproar. if there were any present who did not wish to see dick thus reinstated, they were wise enough to keep their opinions to themselves. "mr. chairman!" shouted another voice over the hubbub. "mr. mallory," replied the chair. "i move that messrs. holmes and anstey be appointed a committee of two to go after mr. prescott and to bring him here---by force, if necessary." amid a good deal of laughter this motion, too, was carried. the two more than willing messengers departed on the run. "mr. chairman!" "mr. douglass." the class president rose, waving his right hand for utter silence. then, slowly and modestly, he said: "i have greatly enjoyed the honor of being president of this class. but i can no longer take pride in holding this office, for, in common with the rest of you, i realize that i secured the honor through a misapprehension. i therefore tender my resignation as president of the first class." "no, no, no!" shouted several. "thank you, gentlemen," replied douglass with feeling. "i appreciate it all, but i feel that i have no longer any right to the presidency of the class, and i therefore resign it---renounce it! gentlemen, comrades, will you do me the favor of accepting my resignation at once?" "on account of the form in which the request is put," said durville, as soon as he had secured the chair's recognition, "i move that our president's resignation be accepted in the same good faith in which it is offered." "thank you, durry, old man!" called douglass in a low voice. a seconder was promptly obtained. then chairman fullerton put the motion. there were cries of "too bad," but no dissenting votes. in the meantime greg and anstey all but broke down a door in their effort to reach dick quickly. "come on, old chap!" called greg, pouncing upon his chum. "it's all off! savvy? we have orders to drag you to class meeting, if force be necessary. come on the jump!" "won't i, though?" cried dick, seizing his fatigue cap and hurrying on his uniform overcoat. a smaller mind might have insisted on taking slowly the request from the class that had unintentionally done him such an injustice. but cadet prescott was made of broader, nobler stuff. he realized that, without exception, the manly fellows in his class were heartily glad to do him justice, now that they knew how blameless he had been. dick was as anxious to meet his class as they were to reinstate him. so he hurried along between the jubilant holmes and anstey. the meeting had just quieted down again by the time that the three cadets entered the room. but in an instant halsey was on his feet, regardless of rules of parliamentary procedure. "give old ramrod the long corps yell!" he shouted. with hardly the pause of a second it came, and never had it sounded sweeter, truer, grander than when some hundred powerful young throats sent forth the refrain: _"rah, rah, ray! rah, rah, ray! west point, west point, armee ray, ray, ray! u.s.m.a.!_" _"prescott!"_ dick prescott's chest began to heave, though he strove to conceal all emotion. it was sweet, indeed, to have all this enthusiasm over him, after he had so long been the innocent outcast of the class. tears shone in either eye. ashamed to raise a hand to brush the moisture away, dick tried to wink them out of sight. but douglass, durville and the others gave him no time to think. they came crowding about him faster than they could reach him, each with outstretched hand. little was said. soldiers are proverbially silent, preferring deeds to words. so, for nearly ten minutes, the handshaking proceeded. at last douglass, with a warning nod and several gestures, brought the temporary chairman to his senses. rap! rap! rap! rang the gavel on the desk. "the class will please come to order," called chairman fullerton. "now, gentlemen, is there any further business to come before the class?" "mr. chairman," called douglass, "i move that we proceed to the election of a class president." "second the motion," cried durville. the motion was carried with a rush. "mr. chairman!" called the tireless ex-class president. "mr. douglass." "mr. chairman and gentlemen, i am going to make a mistake that has become time honored among public speakers, that of telling you what you already know as well as i do. this is that mr. prescott ought never to have been deposed from the class presidency. i move, therefore, sir, that we rectify our stupidity and blindness by making mr. prescott once more our president. i beg, sir, to place in nomination for the class presidency the name of richard prescott, first class, u.s.m.a." "i second the nomination, suh!" boomed out the voice of anstey. "other nominations for the class presidency are in order," announced chairman fullerton. again silence fell. "mr. chairman!" "mr. douglass." "since there are no more nominations, i move you, sir, that mr. prescott be elected president of this class by acclamation." "sir, i second the motion," came from durville's throat. there was wild glee as a volley of "ayes" was fired. "those of a contrary mind will say 'no,'" requested the chair. not a "no" could be heard. "the chair will now withdraw, after appointing mr. douglass, mr. durville, mr. holmes and mr. anstey a committee of honor to escort the new-old class president to the chair." while the little procession was in motion the windowpanes rattled more than ever, with the long corps yell for prescott. the instant his hand touched the gavel, dick rapped for order. "gentlemen of the first class," he said quietly, "i thank you all. little more need be said. i am sure that mere words cannot express my great happiness at being here. i will not deny that i have felt the injustice of the cloud that has hung over me for the last few months. anyone of you would have felt it under the same circumstances. but it is past---forgotten, and i know how happy you all are that the truth has been discovered." there was a moment's silence. then dick asked, as he had so often done before: "is there any further business to come before the class meeting?" silence. "a motion to adjourn is in order." the motion was put, offered and carried. dick prescott stepped down from the platform, a man restored to his birthright of esteem from his comrades. chapter xvi finding the baseball gait "morning, old ramrod!" never had greeting a sweeter sound than when dick strolled about in the quadrangle after breakfast the next morning. scores who, for months, had looked straight past prescott when meeting him, now stopped to speak, or else nodded in a friendly manner. twenty minutes later, the sections were marching off into the academic building, in the never-ceasing grind of recitations. "prescott," declared durville, during the after-dinner recreation period, "we want you to come around to show what you can do at baseball. we've some good, armor-proof material for the squad, but we need a lot more. and we want holmesy, too. bring him around with you, won't you?" "if he'll come," nodded dick. "he must come. but you'll hold yourself ready, anyway, won't you?" "i'd hate to go in without greg," replied dick. "he and i generally work together in anything we attempt." "that was just the kick holmesy made when you---when things were different," corrected the captain of the army nine hastily. "well, you see, 'durry,' we were always chums back in the good old high school days. we always played together, then, in any game, and either of us would feel lonesome now without the other." "oh, of course," nodded durville. "well, i'll see holmesy and try to round him up, if you say so." "i think i can get him to come around," smiled dick. "but you may be tremendously disappointed in both of us." "can you play ball as well as holmesy?" "perhaps; nearly, i guess." "then we surely do need you both, for we've seen holmesy toy with the ball, and we know where he'd rate. do you think you play baseball at the same gait that you do football, old ramrod?" "i think it's possible that i do," dick half admitted slowly. "always modest, aren't you?" laughed "durry" good humoredly. "somehow, prescott, it seems almost impossible to think of you heading a charge, or graduating number one in your class. you'd be too much afraid that someone else wanted either honor." prescott laughed good humoredly. then, dropping his voice, he went on very gravely: "durry, you've behaved very nicely to me in more ways than one, after that time when i necessarily reported you. are you sure that you wholly overlooked my act." "glad you asked me, prescott. i've come to realize that you did your full duty, and the only thing you could do as the captain of my company. but i was terribly upset that night. nothing but a matter of the first importance would ever have driven me to slip into 'cits.' and sneak off the post in that fashion." "i can quite believe that," nodded dick. "well, it---it was a girl, of course," confessed "durry." "you know, cadets have a habit of being interested in girls, and this girl means everything to me. she's up in newburgh, and was ill. i thought she was more ill than she really was. but i knew that i could hardly get official permission to go and see her, so---so i chanced it and went without leave. i wouldn't have done such a thing under any other circumstances." "did the young lady recover?" asked prescott with deep interest. "oh, yes; i dragged her to the hop the other night. she was stepping around the hall with another fellow, for one of the dances, and that was how i came to be out in the air alone. but i'll look for both you and holmesy at practice this afternoon," ended "durry," hastening away. "go to a diamond try-out?" asked greg when dick broached the subject. "of course i will, and crazy over the chance. all that has held me back so far, old ramrod, was the fact that you hadn't been invited. but now that has all been changed." when the diamond squad reported, lieutenant lawrence, the head baseball coach, ordered the young men outdoors to the field. "come over here, please, prescott and holmes," called the coach, who had been conferring in low tones with "durry." "what positions do you two feel that you would be at your best in?" "why, we have conceit enough, sir, to think that we might make at least a half-way battery," smiled dick. "battery, eh?" repeated lieutenant lawrence. "good enough! get out and do it. durville, you're one of the real batsmen. run out there to the home plate, and see whether prescott and holmes can put anything past you." how good it felt to be in field clothes again! and both greg and dick wore on the breasts of their sweaters the army "a," won by making the football eleven the year before. dick fingered the ball carefully while greg was trotting away to place behind the home plate. lieutenant lawrence went more deliberately, but took his place where the umpire would have stood in a game. "what kind of a ball do you like best, durry?" asked prescott, smilingly. "a medium slow one, close to the end of the stick, about here," replied durville. "i'll try to give you something else, then," chuckled dick. and give the batsman something else was just what he did. crack! durville swatted the ball. it rose steeply at first, then sailed away gracefully towards the clouds. "get a fresh ball!" shouted one member of the training squad. "that leather isn't going to come down again!" it did, though a scout had to run far afield to pick it up. lieutenant lawrence didn't look exactly disappointed, but he had hoped to see something better than this had been. five more dick pitched in, and of these "durry" put his mark on three. "that will be enough to-day, i guess, mr. prescott," remarked lieutenant lawrence in an even voice. poor dick flushed, but was about to turn away from the pitcher's box when durville turned to the army coach. "if you really don't mind, sir, i'd like to see prescott throw in a few more. he hasn't held a ball in his hands for a long time, and i think he has only been warming up." "if you really think it worth while," nodded the lieutenant. then, raising his voice: "we'll have you try just a few more, prescott. try to astonish everyone!" greg, whose face had flushed with mortification, now crouched a bit, sending dick one of the old-time signals. holmes was not even sure his chum would remember the signal. it is doubtful if anyone noticed the return that dick sent back to show that he understood. durville took a good grip on his stick, his alert gaze on the man in the box. with hardly a trace of flourish dick let the ball go. on it came, not very swift and straight over the plate. "durry" himself felt a sinking of the heart that. dick should let such an easy one leave him. yet durville had his own work to do honestly. he must pound this easy one and drive it as far as he could. durville swung and let go. but just as he did so---that ball dropped! it passed on a level two feet below the swinging stick, and greg, with a quiet grin, neatly mitted it. "good!" muttered coach lawrence under his breath. "got any more like that, prescott?" he called. "i think i have a few, sir, when i get my arm warmed up and limbered," dick admitted. "take your time, then. don't knock your arm out of shape." again greg was signaling, though the signal was so difficult to catch that many of the onlookers wondered if holmes really had signaled. swish---ew---ew---zip! again durville had fanned truly, though nothing but air. the outshoot had seemed to spring lazily around, just out of reach of the end of his stick. now, every member of the squad, and all of the spectators were beginning to take keen notice. "slowly, prescott. take your time between," admonished lieutenant lawrence, who knew how easily a pitcher out of training might wrench his muscles and go stale for several days. greg had signaled for what had once been one of his chum's best---a modification of the "jump ball" that had cost this young pitcher much hard study and arm-strain. as dick stood ready to let go of the ball he seemed inclined to dawdle over it. it wasn't going to be one of his snappiest---any onlooker could judge that, at least, so it seemed. even durville was fooled, though he did not let up much in the way of alertness. now the ball came on, with not much speed or steam behind it. durville took a good look, made some calculation for possible deception, then made his swing with the stick. slightly forward durville had to bend, in order to get low enough to make the crack. as his bat swished half lazily through the air, durville "ducked" suddenly, for the upbounding ball had gone so close to his ear as to seem bent on removing some of the skin off that member. greg, who had been stooping, was up in time to mit the ball. then durville, his face flushing, heard holmes chuckle. "one or two more, if you like, sir," called dick, facing the coach. "but i think, sir, i'd better be in finer trim before i do too much tossing in one afternoon." "you've done enough, prescott," cried lieutenant lawrence, stepping forward and resting one hand cordially on dick's shoulder. "train with us for a fortnight, and you'll take all the hide off of the navy's mascot goat." there was a laugh from the members of the squad who stood within hearing. but, as dick prescott and greg holmes walked over to the side of the field they were greeted by a cheer from all who had watched their performance. "i'm very glad you asked for a further trial for prescott," murmured lieutenant lawrence to the captain of the army nine. "i thought you would be, sir," durville replied. "we have a line-up, after these two men have been trained into shape, that will make one of the strongest army nines in a generation." "we'd have tanned the navy last year, sir," ventured durville, "if we had known what material we had in prescott and holmes, and had been able to get them out." at cadet mess that evening the talk ran high with joy. west point was sure it had found its baseball gait! chapter xvii ready for the army-navy game in between times, in the strenuous hours that followed, dick found the time, somehow, to write two letters of moment. one was to his mother, the other to laura bentley. in both he told how the last bar to his happiness in the army had been removed. yet dick did not go very deeply into details. he merely explained that the class had discovered, on indisputable evidence, that he had been dealt with unjustly. he made it plain, however, that he was now again in high favor with his class, and that he had even been honored by reelection to the class presidency. "greg, you send dave darrin a short note for me, will you?" begged dick, as he toiled away at the missive to laura. "old dave will want only the bare facts; that will be enough for him. he'll cheerfully wait for details until some time when we're all graduated and meet in the service." dave darrin's reply was short, but characteristic: "of course dear old dick came through all right! he's the kind of fellow that always does and always must come through all right---otherwise there'd be no particular use in being manly." no word came from the missing jordan. truth to tell, no one seemed to care, outside of the young man's father. it is rare, indeed, that a cadet deserts, and when he does, unless he has taken government property with him, no effort is made to find him. by the end of the week, dick prescott was the hope of the army nine, as he had once been of the eleven. a cadet is always in condition. his daily training keeps him there. so dick had only to give his arm a little extra work, increasing it some each day. "do you think i'm going to be in satisfactory shape, sir?" dick asked the army coach friday afternoon. "if something doesn't happen to you, prescott, you're going to be the strongest, speediest pitcher i've ever seen on the army nine," replied lieutenant lawrence. "isn't that saying a good deal, sir?" "yes; but you're the sort of athlete that one may say a great deal about," replied lieutenant lawrence, with a confident smile. "and mr. holmes is very nearly as good a man as you are." "i always thought him fully as good, even better," replied prescott. "there isn't much to choose between you," admitted coach. "i wish we could always look for such men on our army teams." "you can one of these days, sir." "when will that day come?" "it will come, sir, when public-spirited citizens everywhere go in strongly for athletics in the high schools, as they did in the town where holmes and i received our earlier training." the letter from cadet prescott's mother came almost by return mail. she had never for a moment lost faith, she wrote, that all would come out right with her boy, and she was heartily glad that her faith had been justified. she was sorry, indeed, for that unfortunate other cadet whose enmity for dick had been his own undoing in the long run. it was some days later when laura's letter reached the now eager pitcher of the army nine. now that letter was cordial enough in every way, and laura made no secret of her delight and of her pride in her friend. "yet there's something lacking here," murmured prescott uneasily, as he read the letter through once more. "what is it? laura writes as if she were trying to show more reserve with me than she did once. what is the matter? has she cooled toward me at just the time when i shall soon be able to offer her my name and my future?" the thought was torment. nor, of course, did dick fail to remember all about that prosperous and agreeable gridley merchant, leonard cameron, who, for upwards of two years, had been one of miss bentley's most devoted admirers. "i suppose he's the kind of fellow who is calculated to please a woman," mused dick with a sinking at heart. "and cameron has had the great advantage of being right on the spot all the time. moreover, he has had his future mapped out for him, while i wasn't assured about my own, and he hasn't been afraid to speak. great scott, i must wait until the night of the graduation ball before i can speak and find out how the land lies for me. but is laura coming to that hop?" again dick ran hastily through the letter. yet, look as he would, he could find no allusion of laura's to coming on for the graduation hop. "what an idiot i am!" growled prescott to himself. "i'm certain i forgot to ask her, in my last letter. if i did, it was solely because i've always been so sure that she'd be on here for graduation week as a matter of course." after pacing his room for a few moments, dick sat down and wrote feverishly back to laura bentley, asking her if she were coming on for graduation and the hop. "i've always looked forward to having you here as a matter of course on that great occasion," dick penned, "so i'm not very certain that i have made the invitation as explicit as i've meant to. but you'll come, won't you, laura? it would be a poor graduation for me, without your face in the throng, for the others will be strangers to me. won't you please write promptly and set my mind at ease on this vital point?" in three days laura's answer came. unless unavoidably prevented she would be on hand during a part of graduation week. "and i certainly want to attend the graduation hop," laura added, "for it will probably be the only one that i shall ever have a chance to attend." "now, what does she mean by that last statement?" pondered dick, finding new cause for worry. "does she mean that she expects to cut the army after this year? is she really planning to marry that fellow cameron? gracious, how time has flown during these hurried years at west point! for two years past laura has been fully old enough to wed! what a folly she'd commit in waiting all these years for backward me to get ready to open my lips! yes; i guess it's going to be cameron." cadet prescott compressed his lips grimly, but he was soldier enough to be game and face the music. "i've got to be patient a few weeks more, and take the chances," dick told himself, as he scurried away to daily ball practice. "with a rival in the field i wouldn't dare, anyway, to trust my fate to a pleading set down on paper. but i'll send laura a letter once a week now, anyway. she may guess from that, as graduation approaches, that i am sending my thoughts more and more in her direction." with the bravery of which he was so capable, dick ceased his worry about his sweetheart as much as he could, and threw his leisure hours heartily into his work in the ball squad. it will not be possible to describe the games of the season in detail. there were twenty scheduled games in all, though three were called off on account of rain. the army won twelve out of sixteen games played with college teams. dick and greg were the battery in the heaviest nine of the winning games, and in one of the games lost. prescott and holmes had no difficulty in putting up a game that has sent them down in history as being the best army battery to that date. but the navy, that year, had an exceptionally fine team, too, with dave darrin and dalzell for its star battery. "this is the game we've got to win, fellows," called out durville earnestly, two days before the annapolis nine was due at west point in the latter part of may. "we've done finely this year, better than we had hoped. but, after all, what is it to beat every other college, and then have to go down before the navy in defeat at the end?" "who says we're going down in defeat?" grumbled greg. "if you say we're not, you and prescott, then you can do a lot to hearten us up," continued durville, with a sharp glance at the star battery pair. "see here, old ramrod, you know all about that annapolis battery," broke in hackett, of the nine. "what about them as ball players? i understand you went to school with darrin and dalzell. do that pair play ball the way they do football?" "yes," nodded dick. "if anything, they play baseball better." "but you and holmesy put them out at football. can't you do it on the diamond, too?" insisted hackett. "i hope so, but greg and i will feel a lot more like bragging, possibly, after we've played the game through. there isn't much brag about us now, eh, greg?" "not much," confessed greg. "and you fellows want to remember that old ramrod and i are to play only two out of the nine positions. don't depend on us to play the whole game for the army." "of course not," agreed hackett, perhaps a bit tartly. "but if the other seven of us were wonders we'd stand no show unless we had a battery that can do up these awful ogres of the navy nine." "oh, you're better than the navy battery, aren't you, old ramrod?" demanded beckwith. "no, we're not," replied dick slowly, thoughtfully. "don't tell us that the salt-water catcher and pitcher are ahead of you two!" protested durville with new anxiety. "if either crowd is better, they're likely to be it," murmured dick. thereupon all in the dressing room wheeled to take a look at greg. but young holmes nodded his head in confirmation. "don't talk that way," pleaded beckwith. "you'll have us all scared cold before we touch foot to the field day after to-morrow." "just what i said," grumbled greg. "some of the fellows on the army nine expect two men who are not above the average to win the whole game." from all private and newspaper accounts many of the west point fans were inclined to the belief that the navy outpointed the army in the matter of battery. it had been so the year before when, as readers of "_dave darrin's third year at annapolis_" will recall, the navy had succeeded in carrying the game away with neatness and despatch. "you young men have simply got to hustle and keep cool. that's all you can do," urged lieutenant lawrence. "we haven't had so good a nine in years. whatever you do, don't lie down at the last moment, and give up to the navy the only game of the year that is really worth winning." then came two hard afternoons of practice. every onlooker watched dick and greg closely, anxious to make sure that neither young man was going stale. with each added hour it must be confessed that anxiety at west point rose another notch. then came the day of the game. even the tireless and merciless instructors over in the academic building eased up a bit on the cadets that day, if ever the instructors did such a thing. the annapolis nine arrived before one o'clock and was promptly taken to dinner. all that forenoon, the factions had been gathering. most of the visitors, to be sure, came to "root" for the army, though there were not wanting several good-sized crowds that came to cheer and urge the navy young men on to victory. by noon there were three thousand outsiders on the west point reservation. afternoon trains, stages and automobiles brought crowds after that. by three o'clock everyone that expected to see the game had arrived. there were now nine thousand people on the grandstands and along the sides. "nine?" repeated durville in the dressing room, when the word was brought to him. "five thousand used to be about the usual crowd, i believe. old ramrod, you and holmesy are surely responsible for the other four thousand. darrin and dalzell can't have done it all, for the navy always travels light on baggage when headed this way. yes, you and holmesy have dragged the crowd in." "quit your joshing," muttered greg, who was bending over his shoe laces. "yes; cut it. we can stand it better after the game," laughed dick. "get your men out in five minutes more, durville," called lieutenant lawrence, looking in. "the navy fellows have been on the field ten minutes already. you want to limber up your men a bit before game is called." already the sound had reached dressing quarters of the visiting fans cheering for the navy. in three minutes more the cheering ascended with four times as much volume, for now durville marched the picked army nine on to the field, and the fans on the stands caught sight of these trim young soldiers. "i've got a hunch you'll do it for us to-day," whispered beckwith in prescott's ear. "look out. a little hunch is a dangerous thing," retorted dick, with a grim smile. chapter xviii dan dalzell's crabtown grin six minutes later, the umpire called the captains to the home plate for the toss. "there they are---the same old chums!" cried dick, hitting greg a nudge. darrin and dalzell, of the navy nine, had been trying to catch the eyes of the army battery. now the four old chums raced together to a point midway between pitcher's box and home plate. there they met and clasped each others' hands. "the same old pair, i know!" cried dave darrin heartily. "and we think as much of you two as ever, even if you are in the poor old army," grinned dan. "we've come all the way up from crabtown to teach you how to play ball. the knowledge will probably prove useful to you some day." "why, dick," protested holmes in mock astonishment, "these cabin boys seem to think they can really play ball!" "and all i'm afraid of is that they can," laughed dick. "can't we, though---just!" mocked dan, dancing a brief little step. "wait until you take a stick to our work, and then see where you'll live!" "cut it, danny, little lion-fighter, cut it!" warned dave darrin, with quiet good nature. "you know what they tell us all the time, down at crabtown---that 'brag never scuttled a fighting ship yet.' "dave, you don't expect danny to believe that, do you?" asked greg, grinning hard. "danny never went into anything that he didn't try to win by scaring the other side cold. if our instructors here know what they're talking about, hot air isn't necessarily fatal to the enemy." "i can tell you one thing, anyway," chipped in dan, while the other three grinned indulgently at him. "yes; you have it straight that this is to be the army's game," mocked greg. "but we knew that before we saw you to-day." "there goes our joy-killer," grunted prescott, as the umpire's shrill whistle sounded in. "dave, we'll be in the navy's dressing room just as soon as-----" "just as soon as this cruel war is over," hummed dan. the toss having been won by the navy, the captain of that nine had chosen to go to bat. now the players on both sides were scattering swiftly to their posts. dick took but a bound or two back to the box, just as the umpire broke the package around the new ball and tossed it to the army pitcher. "play ball!" it was on, with a rush, and a cheer, led by some eight measures of music from the military academy band, which had been quiet for a few minutes. then the cheer settled down, for prescott found himself facing dan dalzell at the bat, with darrin on deck. "wipe 'em!" signaled greg's antics. now, to "wipe" dalzell, who had known everyone of dick's old curves and tricks in former days, did not look like a promising task, for dalzell, in addition to his special knowledge about this pitcher, was an expert with the bat. but there might be a chance to put dan on the mourner's bench. if dalzell succeeded in picking up even a single from dick's starting delivery, then dave could be all but depended upon to push his navy chum a bag or two further around the course. "if i can twist dan all up, it may serve to rattle dave, too," thought the army pitcher like a flash. dalzell poised the bat, and stood swinging it gently, with an expectant grin that, had it been a school audience, would have made the youngsters on the bleachers yell: "get your face closed tight, danny! that grin hides the stick!" dalzell had often had that hurled at him in the old days, but he did not have to dread it now. but prescott knew that old broad grin. it was dalzell's favorite "rattler" for the balltosser. "i think i know the scheme for getting the hair off your goat," mused prescott, as he sent in his first. "ball one!" called the umpire. dan's grin broadened. "ball two!" dalzell knew he had the army pitcher going now, and didn't take the trouble to reach for the ball. "strike one!" that took some of the starch out of the navy batsman, who suddenly realized that this twirler for the army was up to old tricks. "strike two!" dan was sure he had that one, and he missed it only by an inch. gone, now, was the grin on dalzell's face. a frown gathered between his eyes as he took harder hold of the stick and waited. nor did prescott keep him long waiting. the ball came in, and dan gauged it fairly well. yet he fanned for the third time. "batsman out!" dan hesitated an almost imperceptible instant at the plate. swift as lightning he made a wry little mouth at prescott. it nearly broke dick up with laughter as dalzell stalked moodily to the bench and dave stepped forward. in fact, the army pitcher choked and shook so that durville called to him in a quiet, anxious voice from shortstop's beat: "anything wrong, ramrod?" none of the spectators heard this, but most of them saw dick's short, vigorous shake of the head as he palmed the ball. then he let it go, for darrin was waiting, and in grand old dave's eyes flashed the resolve to retrieve what had just been taken from the navy. "darry can't lose, anyway. he'll take the conceit out of these army hikers," predicted some of the knowing ones among the navy fans. "ball one!" though not sure, dave had expected this, and did not try keenly for dick's first delivery, which, as he knew of old, was seldom of this pitcher's best. then came what looked like a high ball. of old, this had been the poorest sort for darrin to bit, and dick seemed to remember it. but darrin had changed with the years, and he felt a swift little jolt of amusement as he swung for that high one. just about three feet away from the plate, however, that ball took a most unexpected drop, and passed on fully eighteen inches under the swing of darrin's stick. "strike one!" at the next darrin's judgment forbade him to offer, but the umpire judged it a fair ball, and called: "strike two!" dalzell, on the bench, was leaning forward now, his chin plunged in between his hands. "dick prescott hasn't lost any of his knack for surprises," muttered danny. "and if we, who know his old tricks, can't fathom him at all, what are the other seven of us going to do?" as the ball arched slowly back into dick's hands, dalzell, in his anxiety, found himself leaping to his feet. and now prescott pitched, in answer to greg's signal, what looked like a coming jump ball. dave darrin knew that throw, and was ready. in another instant he could have dropped with chagrin, for the ball, after all, was another "drop," and greg holmes had mitted it for the army in tune to the umpire's: "strike three-out! two out!" "david, little giant, your hand!" begged dalzell, in a fiery whisper as his chum reached the bench. "what's up?" asked darrin half suspiciously. "agree with me, now---make deep and loud the solemn vow that we'll use dick and greg just as they've treated us!" "we will, if we can," nodded darrin, more serious than his chum. "but i always try to tell you, danny boy, that it's best not to do your bragging until after you've scuttled your ship." just as dave had stepped away from the plate, hutchins, the little first baseman of the navy, had bounded forward. hutchins was wholly cool, and had keen eye for batting. he hoped, despite what he had heard of prescott's cleverness, to send navy spirits booming by at least a two-bagger. "strike one!" prescott had not wasted any moments, this time, and hutchins was caught unawares. the little first baseman flushed and a steely look came into his eyes. at the next one he struck, but it came across the plate as an out-shoot that was just too far out for hutchins's reach. had he not offered it would have been a "called ball." with two strikes called against him, and nothing moving, hutchins felt the ooze coming out of his neck and forehead. the navy had been playing grand ball that spring. it would never do to let the army get too easy a start. but dick poised, twirled and let go. it was a straight-away, honest and fair ball that he sent. to be sure there was a trace of in-shoot about it that made hutchins misjudge it so that, in the next instant, the passionless umpire sounded the monotonous solo: "strike three---and out. side out!" from the navy seats dead calm, but from the band came a blare of brass and a clash of drums and cymbals as the cheering started. in an instant, out of all the hubbub, came the long corps yell from the cadets, ending with: "prescott! holmes!" sweet music, indeed, to the army battery. but greg heard it on the wing, so to speak, for at the changing of the sides he had hastened forward, so as to pass dan dalzell: "danny boy, after the game, i want you to do something big for me," whispered cadet holmes. "surely," murmured dalzell. "what shall it be?" "i think i know how you get that grin of yours, that conquering grin on your face, but i wish you'd show me how you make it stick!" "call you out for that some day," hissed dalzell, as, with heightened color, he made his way to catcher's post of duty behind the plate. dave darrin received the ball, and handled it, after the ways of his kind, for a few seconds, to detect any irregularities there might be to its surface or any flaws in its roundness. "play ball!" called the umpire. with beckwith holding the stick, and durville on deck, dick had time to do what he was most anxious to do---to make a study of any new things that darrin might have learned. dave appeared to be fully warmed at the start. "strike one!" called the umpire, though beckwith had not dared offer. then: "strike two!" dick began to see light. dave was in fine form, and was sending them in with such terrific speed that it was barely possible to gauge them. that style of pitching carried big hopes for a navy victory! chapter xix when the army fans winced as darrin sent in the third ball beckwith made a desperate sweep for it. it was not to be his, however. "three strikes! striker out!" that broad grin had come back to dan dalzell's face, as he held up the neatly mitted ball for an instant, then hurled it lazily back to dave darrin. now, durville came to bat, and the captain of the army nine was an accurate and hard hitter. "ball one!" "strike one!" "strike two!" "ball two!" then came a slight swish of willow against leather. durville had at last succeeded in just touching the ball. but it was a foul hit, and that was all. dan, however, was not out at the side in time to pick that foul into his own mitten. durville, his face somewhat pale and teeth clenched, stood ready for his last chance. it came, in one of darrin's trickiest throws. it was no use, after all. durville missed, and dalzell didn't. "strike three---striker out!" "prescott, you know that navy fellow! go after him---hammer him all the way down the river!" groaned durville in a low voice as dick came forward. dan's quick ears heard, however, and his grin broadened. well enough dalzell knew that darrin had a lot of box tricks secreted that would fool even a prescott. but dick was not to be rattled, at any rate. he picked up the bat, "hefted" it briefly, then stepped up beside the plate, ready in a few seconds after durville had gone disconsolately back to the bench. "i won't try to decipher dave's deliveries; i'll judge them by what they look like after the ball has started," swiftly decided prescott. "ball one!" "ball two!" "strike one!" "strike two!" "crack!" so fast did prescott start when that fly popped, that he was nearly half way to first base when he dropped his bat. it was only a fly out to right field, but it was a swift one, and it struck turf before the navy fielder could hoof it to the spot. he caught it up, whirled, and drove straight to first, but prescott's toe had struck the bag a fraction of a second before. "runner safe at first!" called the umpire quietly. then the ball went back to dave, who now had a double task of alertness, for holmes held the bat at the plate, while prescott was trying to steal second. well did dave darrin know the trickiness of both these army players! greg, too, was cool, though a good deal apprehensive. with him the call stood at balls three and strikes two when greg thought he saw his real chance. swat! greg struck with all his strength, and at the sound, a cheer rose from the seats of the army fans. but the ball was lower than greg had calculated, and after all his assault on the leather had resulted only in a bunt. navy's pitcher took a few swift steps, then bent, straightened up and sent the ball driving to first. "runner out at first!" then indeed a wail went up. what did it matter that prescott had reached second? greg's disaster had put the side out. and now the navy came back to bat. in this half of the second, three hits were taken out of prescott's delivery, and at one time there were two sailors on bases. then the navy went out to grass and the army marched in for a trial. this time, however, the army had neither durville, prescott nor holmes at the plate, and with these three best batters on the bench, dave had the satisfaction of striking the soldiers out in one, two, three. in the third inning neither side scored. then, in the fourth, with two sailors out when he came to bat, dalzell exploded a two-bagger that brought the navy to its feet on the benches, cheering and hat-waving. by the time that dan's flying feet had kicked the first bag on the course dave darrin was holding the willow and standing calmly by the plate, watching. two of dick's offers, dave let go by without heeding, one ball and one strike being called. but dave, though he looked sleepy, was wholly alert. at the third offer he drove a straight, neat little bunt that was left for the army's second baseman. that baseman had it in season to drive to lanton, at army first base. but dave had hit the bag first, and was safe, while dan dalzell was making pleased faces over at third. now, a member of the navy team slipped over to that side of the diamond to coach dan on his home-running. in addition to pitching, dick had to watch first and third bases, in which situation dave darrin, with great impudence and coolness, stole second in between two throws. on the faces of the army fans, by this time, anxiety was written in large letters. they had heard much about the navy battery, but not of its base-running qualities. it was little hutchins now again at the bat. his last time there he had been struck out without trouble. "but, it never does to be too positive that a fellow is a duffer," mused prescott grimly, as he gripped the leather. just when little hutchins seemed on the point of going to pieces he misjudged one of dick's puts so completely that he struck it, by accident, a fearful crack. a cloud of dust marked the limits of the diamond, while the air was filled with yells and howls. when the dust cleared and the howls had subsided it was found that dalzell had loped in across the home plate, darrin had come along more swiftly and was in, while hutchins touched the second base an instant after the ball had nestled in greg holmes's army mitt. it mattered little that earl, who came next to bat, struck out. the navy had pulled in two runs---the only runs scored so far! in the other half the army nine secured nothing. in the fifth neither team scored. in the sixth the navy scored one more run. in the sixth lanton, of the army, got home with a single run. thus, at the beginning of the seventh, the score stood at three to one with the grin on the naval face. during the seventh inning nothing was scored. now, the sailor boys came to bat for the first half of the eighth, with a din of navy yells on the air. west point's men came back with a sturdy assortment of good old military academy yells, but the life was gone out. the army was proud of such men as durville, prescott, holmes, but admitted silently that darrin and dalzell appeared to belong to a slightly better class of ball. "it's our fault, too," muttered the army coach, lieutenant lawrence, to a couple of brother officers. "darrin and dalzell have been training with the navy nine for two years, while prescott and holmes came in late this season. even if they wouldn't play last year, these two men of ours should have reported for the very first day's work last february." "prescott couldn't do it," remarked lieutenant denton, who had just joined the group. "why not, denton?" asked lieutenant lawrence. "he was in coventry." "pshaw!" "didn't you know that?" asked denton. "not a word of it, though durville once hinted to me that there was some sort of reason why prescott couldn't come in." "there was---the coventry," denton replied. "but that trouble blew over when the first classmen found themselves wrong in something of which jordan had accused prescott." "humph!" growled lieutenant lawrence, in keen displeasure. "then, if we lose to-day, the first class can blame itself!" "you think our battery pair better than the navy's, then?" asked lieutenant denton. "our men would have been better, by a shade, anyway, had they been as long in training. but as it is-----" "as it is," supplied another officer in the group, "we are wiped off the slate by the navy, this year, and no one can know it better than we do ourselves." just as the fortunes of war would have it, dan dalzell again stood by the plate at the beginning of the eighth. "wipe off that smile, danny boy," called darrin softly. but dan only shook his head with a deepening grin which seemed to declare that he found the navy situation all to the good. in fact, dalzell felt such a friendly contempt for poor old dick's form by this time, that he cheerily offered at dick's first. crack! that ball arched up for right field, and dan, hurling his bat, started to make tracks and time. beckwith, however, was out in right field, and knew what was expected of him. he ran in under that dropping ball, held out his hands and gathered it in. dick smiled quietly, almost imperceptibly, while dan strolled mournfully back to the bench. then prescott turned, bent on annihilating his good old friend darrin, if possible. in great disgust, dave struck out. the look on the navy fan's faces could be interpreted only as saying: "oh, well, we don't need runs, anyway!" but when hutchins struck out---one, two, three!---after as many offers, navy faces began to look more grave. "hold 'em down, navy---hold 'em down!" rang the appeal from navy seats when the army went to bat in the eighth. dick was first at bat now, with greg on deck. as prescott swung the willow and eyed darrin, there was "blood" in the army pitcher's eyes. then darrin gave a sudden gasp, for, at his first delivery, dick sized up the ball, located it, and punched it. that ball dropped in center field just as dick was turning the first bag. it sped on, but dick turned back from too big a risk. but he looked at greg, waiting idly at bat, and holmes caught the full meaning of that appealing look. "it's now or never," growled greg between his teeth. "it's seldom any good to depend at all on the ninth inning." darrin, with a full knowledge of what was threatened to the navy by the present situation, tried his best to rattle greg. and one strike was called on holmesy, but the second strike he called himself by some loud talk of bat against leather. then, while the ball sped into right field, greg ran after it, stopping, however, at first bag, while prescott sprinted down to second bag, kicked it slightly, and came back to it. it was up to lanton, of the army, now! in this crisis the army first baseman either lacked true diamond nerve, or else he could not see darrin's curves well, for lanton took the call of two strikes before he was awarded called balls enough to permit him to lope contentedly away to first. this advanced both dick and greg. bases full---no outs! three runs needed! this was the throbbing situation that confronted cadet carter as he picked up an army bat and stood by the plate, facing the "wicked" and well-nigh invincible darrin of the navy! chapter xx the vivid finish of the game on both sides of the field, every one was standing on seats. even the cadets had risen to their feet, every man's eye turned on the diamond, while the cadet cheer-master danced up and down, ready to spring the yell of triumph if only carter and the player on deck could give the chance. lieutenant lawrence wiped his perspiring face and neck. the coach probably suffered more than any other man on the field. it was his work that had prepared for this supreme game of the whole diamond season! over at third base cadet prescott danced cautiously away, yet every now and then stole nearly back. dick was never going to lose a scored run through carelessness. "now, good old carter, can't you?" groaned durville, as the army batsman went forward to the plate. "durry, i'll come home with my shield, or on it," muttered carter, with set teeth and white lips as he went to pick up the bat that he was to swing. carter was not one of the best stick men of the army baseball outfit, but there is sometimes such a thing as batting luck. for this, carter prayed under his breath. darrin, of course, was determined to baffle this strong-hope man of west point. he sent in one of his craftiest outshoots. for a wonder, carter guessed it, and reached out for it---but missed. "strike two!" followed almost immediately from the placid's umpire's lips. everyone who hoped for the army was trembling now. dan dalzell did some urgent signaling. in response, darrin took an extra hard twist around the leather, unwound, unbent and let go. _crack_! batter's luck, and nothing else! "carter, carter, carter!" broke loose from the mouths of half a thousand gray-clad cadets, and the late anxious batter was sprinting for all there was in him. just to right of center field, and past, went the ball---a good old two-bagger for any player that could run. from third dick came in at a good jog, but he did not exert himself. he had seen how long it must take to get the ball in circulation. as for holmes, he hit a faster pace. he turned on steam, just barely touching third as he turned with no thought of letting up this side of the home plate. lanton made third---he had to, for carter was bent on kicking the second bag in time. had there been another full second to spare carter would have made it. but navy center field judged that it would be far easier to put carter out than to play that trick on lanton, since the latter had but ninety feet to run, anyway. so carter was out, but lanton was hanging at third, crazy with eagerness to get in. it all hung on lanton now. if he got across the home plate in time enough it would give the army the lead by one run. at this moment the score was tied---three to three! "get out there and coach lantin, old ramrod," begged "durry," and dick was off, outside of the foul line, his eye on dave darrin and on every other living figure of the navy nine. it was holden up, now, and, though the cadets on the grandstand looked at carter briefly, with praise in their eyes for his two-bagger that had meant two runs, the eyes of the young men in gray swiftly roved over by the plate, to keep full track of holden's performance. but holden struck out, and army hopes sank. tyrrell came in to the plate, and on him hung the last hope. if he failed, army fans would be near despair. dave darrin was beginning to feel the hot pace a bit, for in this inning he had exerted himself more than in any preceding one. however, that was all between darrin and himself. not another player on the field guessed how glad dave would be for the end of the game. yet he steeled himself, and sent in swift, elusive ones for tyrrell to hit. swat! tyrrell landed a blow against the leather, at the last chance that he had at it. it was a bunt, but navy's shortstop simply couldn't reach it in time to pick it up without the slightest fumble. that delay brought lanton home and over the plate. how the plain resounded with cheers! for now the army led by a single run, and tyrrell was safe at first. jackson up, with beckwith on deck. there was hope of further scoring. yet no keen disappointment was felt when jackson struck out. in from pasture trooped the navy men, eager to retrieve all in the ninth. "fit to stay in the box, old ramrod?" anxiously asked "durry," as the nines changed. "surely," nodded dick. "don't stick it out, unless you know you can do the trick," insisted the army captain earnestly. "i'm just in feather!" smiled dick. greg, too, had been a bit anxious; but when the first ball over the plate stung his one unmitted hand, holmes concluded that prescott did not need to be helped out of the box just at that time. then followed something which came so fast that the spectators all but rubbed their eyes. one after another dick prescott struck out three navy batsmen. greg holmes made this splendid work perfect by not letting anything pass him. that wound up the game, for navy had not scored in the ninth, and the rules forbade the army nine to go again to bat to increase a score that already stood at four to three. instantly the academy band broke loose. yet above it all dinned the cheers of the greater part of the nine thousand spectators present. as soon as the band stopped the corps yell rose, with the names of durville, prescott and holmes, and of carter whose batting luck had played such a part in the eighth. but, by the time that the corps yell rose the army nine was nearly off the field. "listen to the good noise, old ramrod," glowed greg. "it's the last time we'll ever hear the corps yell for any work we do in west point athletics," went on greg mournfully. "i know it," sighed dick. "if we ever hear cheers for us again, we'll have to win the noise by a gallant charge, or something like that." "in the army," replied greg, choking somewhat. "yes; in the good old army," went on dick, his eyes kindling. "i don't feel any uneasiness about getting through the final exams. now. we're as good as second lieutenants already, holmesy!" while thus chatting, however, the two chums were keeping pace with their comrades of the nine. the nine from annapolis moved in a compact group a little ahead down the road. just before the army ball-tossers reached the dressing quarters, lieutenant lawrence, their coach, hastened ahead of them, meeting them in the doorway. "the best nine we've had in a long number of years, gentlemen," glowed coach, as he shook the hand of each in passing. "thank you all for your splendid, hard work!" thanks like that was sweet music, after all. but dick raced to dressing quarters full of but one thing. "quick, holmesy! we don't know how soon the navy team may have to run down the road to a train." "aren't they going to have supper at the mess?" demanded greg, as he stripped. "i don't know; i'm afraid not." dick and greg were the first of the army nine to be dressed in their fatigue uniforms. immediately they made a quick break for the navy quarters. "it looks almost cheeky to throw ourselves in on the other fellows," muttered greg dubiously. "some of the middies will think we've come in on purpose to see how they take their beating." "they didn't get a bad enough beating to need to feel ashamed," replied dick. "and we won't say a word about the game, anyway." "may we come in?" called prescott, knocking on the door of the middies' quarters. "who's there?" called a voice. then the navy coach, in uniform, opened the door. "oh, come in, gentlemen," called the coach, holding out his hand. "and let me congratulate you, prescott and holmes, on the very fine game that you two had a star part in putting up for the nine from crabtown." "thank you, sir," dick replied. "but we didn't call on that account. there are two old chums of ours here, sir, that we're looking for." "see anything of them anywhere?" smiled dave darrin, stepping forward, minus his blouse and holding out both hands. dick and greg pounced upon dave. then dan struggled into another article of clothing and ran forward from the rear of the room. "how soon do you go?" asked dick eagerly. "the 6.14 train to new york," replied dave. "oh, then you're not going to have supper at cadet mess?" asked greg in a tone of deep disappointment. "no," answered dan dalzell. "it would get us through too late. we dine in new york on arrival." "hurry up and get dressed," dick urged. then, turning to the coach, he inquired: "may we keep darrin and dalzell with us, sir, until your train leaves?" "no reason on earth why you shouldn't," nodded the navy coach. so dave and dan were dressed in a trice, it seemed, though with the care that a cadet or midshipman must always display in the set of his immaculate uniform. dick seized dave by the elbow, marching him forth, while greg piloted dan. "great game for you-----" began dan, as soon as the quartette of old chums were outside. "send all that kind of talk by the baggage train," ordered cadet holmes. "what we want to talk about are the dear old personal affairs." "you youngsters are through here, after not so many more days, aren't you?" began darrin. "yes; and so are you, down at annapolis," replied prescott. "not quite," rejoined dave gravely. "there's this difference. in a few days you'll be through here, and will proceed to your homes. then, within the next few days, you'll both receive your commissions as second lieutenants in the army, and will be ordered to your regiments. you're officers for all time to come! we of the first class at annapolis will receive our diplomas, surely. but what beyond that? while you become officers at once, we have to start on the two years' cruise, and we're still midshipmen. after two years at sea, we have to come back and take another exam. if we pass that one, then we'll be ensigns---officers at last. but if we fail in the exam, two years hence then we're dropped from the service. after we've gone through our whole course at annapolis we still have to guess, for two years, whether we're going to be reckoned smart enough to be entitled to serve the united states as officers. i can't feel, dick, that we of annapolis, get a square deal." "it doesn't sound like it," prescott, after a moment, admitted. "still, you can do nothing about it. and you knew the game when you went to annapolis." "yes, i knew all this four years ago," darrin admitted. "still, the four years haven't made the deal look any more fair than it did four years ago. however, dick, hang all kickers and sea-lawyers! isn't it grand, anyway, to feel that you're in your country's uniform, and that all your active life is to be spent under the good old flag---always working for it, fighting for it if need be!" "then you still love the service?" asked dick, turning glowing eyes upon his annapolis chum. "love it?" cried dave. "the word isn't strong enough!" "are you engaged, old fellow?" asked greg of dan dalzell. "kind of half way," grinned dan. "that is, i'm willing, but the girl can't seem to make up her mind. and you?" "i've been engaged nine times in all," sighed greg. yet each and every one of the girls soon felt impelled to ask me to call it off." "any show just at present?" persisted dalzell. "why, strange to say," laughed greg, "i'm fancy free at the present moment." "how did the old affair ever come out between dick and laura bentley?" asked dan curiously. "why, the strange part of it is, i don't believe there ever has been any formal affair between dick and laura," greg went on. "that is, no real understanding between them. and now-----" "yes?" urged dan. "a merchant over in gridley, a rather decent chap, too, has been making up to laura pretty briskly, i hear by way of home news," greg continued. "does the yardstick general win out?" demanded dan. "from all the news, i'm half afraid he does." "how does dick take that?" dan was eager to know. "i can't tell you," greg responded solemnly, "for i have never ventured on that topic with old ramrod. but if he loses out with laura, i feel it in my bones that he'll take it mighty hard." "poor old dick!" sighed dan, loyal to the old days. "somehow, i can't quite get it through my head that it's at all right for anyone to withhold from dick prescott anything he really wants." greg sighed too. "any idea what arm of the service you're going to choose?" asked dan presently. "i believe i'll do better to wait and see what my class standing is at graduation," laughed greg. "that is the thing that settles how much choice i'm to have in the matter of arm of the service." "any liking for heavy artillery?" asked dan. "not a whit. cavalry or infantry for mine." "not the engineers?" "only the honor men of the class can get into the engineers," grunted greg. "neither dick nor i stand any show to be honor men. we feel lucky enough to get through the course and graduate at all." dick and dave, too, were talking earnestly about the future, though now and then a word was dropped about the good old past, as described in the _high school boys' series_. ten minutes before the train time two chums in army gray and two in navy blue reached the platform of the railway station. the other middies were there ahead of them. in the time that was left dick and greg were hastily introduced to the other middies. a few jolly words there were, but the other members of the army nine and still other cadets were on hand, and so the talk was general. amid noisy, heartfelt cheering the middy delegation climbed aboard the incoming train. amid more cheers their train bore them away and then some sixty west point cadets climbed the long, steep road, next hastening on to be in time for supper formation. for the members of the first class west point athletics had now become a matter of history only! chapter xxi a cloud on dick's horizon final exams. were passed! not a member of the first class had "fessed" himself down and out, so all were to be graduated. the board of visitors---a committee of united states senators and representatives appointed by the president from among the members of the national congress, arrived. a detachment of cavalry and another of field artillery, both from the regular army, rode to the railway station to aid in the reception of the board. also the entire corps of cadets, two battalions of them, in spick and span full-dress uniform, and with all metal accoutrements glistening, in the sun, stood drawn up as the visitors were escorted to their carriages by waiting army officers. now, the imposing procession started up the steep slope, at a little past mid-afternoon. just as the head of the line reached the flat plain above, most of the members of the board of visitors felt tempted to clap their hands to their ears. for a second detachment of artillery, waiting on the plain, now thundered forth the official artillery salute to the visitors. one of these visitors, a member of the national house of representatives, who had served with distinction in the civil war, having then risen to the grade of major general of volunteers, looked out over the plain, then at the stalwart cadets behind, with moist eyes. he had been a cadet here in the late fifties. he was now too old to fight, but all the ardor of the soldier still burned in his veins! yet only a moment did the line of carriages pause at the plain. then the members of the board were carried on to the west point hotel, where the best quarters had been reserved for such as were not to be personal guests of officers on the post. during the brief wait at the station, cadet captain prescott, standing before the company that he had commanded during this year, caught a brief glimpse of a familiar figure---his mother. by chance mrs. prescott had journeyed to west point on the same train. yet not a chance did dick get for a word with his mother until long after. he was almost frenzied with eagerness for word of laura, and this his mother would have, in some form, but he must wait until all the duties of the day had been performed and leisure had come to him. mrs. prescott, on catching sight of her boy, felt a sudden, exultant throb in her mother heart. then she stepped quickly back, fearful of attracting her lad's attention at a moment when he must give his whole thought to his soldier duties. "my noble, manly boy!" thought the mother, with moistening eyes. "i wonder if i do wrong to think him the noblest of them all?" dick had caught that one swift glance, but did not again see his mother, for his eyes were straight ahead. when the time came for his particular company to wheel and swing into the now moving line of gray, mrs. prescott heard his measured, manly voice: "fours left---march!" when the last company of cadets had fallen into line, mrs. prescott was one of the two dozen or so civilians who fell in at some distance to the rear, climbing the slope behind the moving line of gray. wholly absorbed in the corps, dick's mother had forgotten to board the stage that would have carried her to the hotel. after the visitors had been left at the hotel, the corps marched away. barely half an hour later, however, the two battalions again marched on to the plain. then the most fascinating, the most inspiring of all military ceremonies was gone through with by the best body of soldiery in the world. the cadets of the united states military academy went through all the solemnity of dress parade. it is a sight which, once seen at west point, can never be forgotten by a lover of his flag. one bespectacled young spectator there was who found his breath coming in quick, sharp gasps as he looked on at this magnificent display. he was tall, yet with a slight stoop in his shoulders. his face was covered with a bushy, sandy beard. he was neither particularly well nor very badly dressed, and would have attracted little attention in any crowd. yet this stranger was not looking on a new sight. for nearly four years it had been as the breath of life to him. stoop-shouldered as a matter of disguise, and with beard and spectacles adding to his security from recognition, this slouching young man bent most of his gaze upon the stalwart, erect figure of cadet captain prescott. "you drove me out of here! you cheated me of all the glory of this career, prescott! have you been fool enough to think that i'd forget---that i could forget? you are close to your diploma, now---but before that moment arrives i shall find the way to spoil your chances of a career in the army. and i can get away again without anyone recognizing in me the man who was once known as cadet jordan, of the first class!" yes; it was jordan, back at west point, sure of escaping recognition, and bent on a desperate errand of wrecking dick prescott's promising career. but dick performed all his duties through that dress parade conscious only of the glory of the soldier's life. he thought he had caught a fleeting glimpse of his mother once, in the crowd, as his company executed a wheeling, and he was happy in what he knew her happiness to be. then, when it was all over, and the corps again marched from the field, mrs. prescott, who knew the ways of west point, went and stood at the edge of the grassy plain, nearly opposite the north sally-port. five minutes after the last of the corps had marched in under the port, dick, his dress uniform changed for the fatigue, came out with bounding step and crossed the road. wholly unashamed, he passed his arms around his mother, gave her a big hug, several kisses, and then, hat in hand, turned to stroll with her under the trees. "dad couldn't come, i'm afraid?" dick asked in disappointment. "he had to stay and look after the store, you know, dick, my boy. but the store will be closed two days this week, for your father is coming on here to see you graduate. nothing could keep him away from that." "and how is everyone at home? how is laura?" dick asked eagerly. "she will be here in time for the graduation hop," replied mrs. prescott. "she told me she had seen you so far through your west point life, that she would feel uneasy over not being here to see the last move of all. dick, do you mind your mother asking you a question? you used to care especially for laura bentley, did you not?" "why, mother?" asked prescott with a sudden sinking at heart. lounging against the other side of a tree that prescott and his mother were passing, the disguised jordan was close enough to hear. what he heard seemed to deepen the scowl of hatred on his face; but mother and son were soon out of ear shot, and the miserable jordan slunk away. chapter xxii cadet prescott commands at squadron drill the military academy found itself in a whirling round of recitations and drills, arranged for the delight of the board of visitors. there were other hundreds of spectators at first, and thousands later, to see all that was going on, for there are hosts of citizens who know what inspiring sights are to be found at west point in graduation week. "mr. prescott is directed to report at the office of the commandant of cadets." this order was borne by a soldier orderly immediately after breakfast on the day before graduation. "mr. prescott," said the commandant, when the tall, soldierly looking cadet knocked, entered and saluted, "you will take command at the cavalry squadron drill, which takes place at three this afternoon." dick's heart bounded with pleasure. it was an honor that could come to but one man in the first class, and he was greatly delighted that it should have fallen to him. "mr. holmes will command the first troop, and mr. anstey the second," continued the commandant of cadets, who then rattled off the names of the cadets who would act as subalterns in the squadron. it was a splendid detail, that of commanding the squadron in the cavalry drill---splendid because it is one of the most picturesque events of the week, and also because it calls for judgment and high ability to command. "i must be sure to get word to mother; she mustn't miss a sight that will delight her so greatly," murmured dick, as he hastened away to notify greg and anstey. this done, he hastened off to other duties, though not without yielding much thought to the belief that laura bentley would be here this afternoon, since she was pledged to go with him to the graduation ball in the evening. "mother can be sure to see laura, and they can see the squadron drill together," ran through prescott's mind. a splendid, swift bit of pontoon bridge building had been shown the visitors on the day before; one battalion had given a lively glimpse of tent pitching in perfect alignment as to company streets, and in record time. in the forenoon, there was to be a lively battery drill, to be followed by a dizzying demonstration of the speed at which machine guns may be moved, placed in position and fired so fast that there is a hail of projectiles. for this afternoon, the cavalry drill in squadron, and after that, infantry drill that would include a picture of infantry on the firing line. after that, the last dress parade in which the present first classmen would ever take part as cadets. oh, it was a stirring picture, full of all the dash, the precision and glamour of the soldier's life! the pity of it all was that every red-blooded american boy could not be there to see it all. just before three o'clock every man of the first class turned out through the north sallyport in the full equipment of a cavalryman. here they halted before barracks. dick caught sight of four figures standing hardly more than across the road. a swift glance at the time, and prescott stepped over the road. "good afternoon, mother. good afternoon, mrs. bentley. and laura and belle---oh, how delighted i am to see you both here!" genuine joy shone in this manly cadet's eyes; none could mistake that. "you did not know that greg had invited me to the graduation ball, did you?" asked belle meade. "i did not," dick answered truthfully. "yet i guessed it as soon as i saw you here. and you have been at the annapolis graduation, too?" "why, of course!" exclaimed belle, almost in astonishment. "and laura went with me. that's something else you didn't know, dick." "i've been through the course at west point," laughed the cadet, "and by this time i am not astonished at the number of things that i don't know." "dave and dan said they had seen you only a few days ago, but they sent their love again," rattled on miss meade. "but i'm taking up all of the talk, and i know you're dying to talk to laura." belle accompanied her words with a little gesture of one hand that displayed the flash of a small solitaire diamond set in a band of gold on the third finger of the left hand. dick did not need inquire. he knew that dave darrin had placed that ring where it now flashed. just then greg came through the sally-port. in an instant he bounded across the road. he immediately took it upon himself to talk with belle, and dick turned to laura with flushed face and wistful eyes. in the first instant miss bentley flushed; then a sudden pallor succeeded the flush. dick, taking her dear face as his barometer, felt a sudden indescribable sinking of his heart. they exchanged a few words, then----ta-ra-ta-ra-ta-ra-ta! it was the bugle calling the assembly. swiftly greg sprang across the road to form his troop, while anstey formed the other. both acting troop leaders turned to report to dick that their respective troops were formed. then prescott, for the last time as a cadet, marched the class across the plain at swift, rhythmic tread, to where the veteran cavalry horses stood saddled and tethered. reaching the cavalry instructor, prescott halted, saluted, and reported his command. "stand to horse!" ordered the instructor briskly. there was a dash; in another instant each cadet stood by the head of his selected mount. "prepare to mount!" each cadet seized mane and bridle, also thrusting his left foot into stirrup box. "mount!" like so many figures operated by machinery, the first classmen rose, throwing right legs over saddles, then settling down in the seat. then, all in a twinkling, the ranks reformed. "mr. prescott, take command of the squadron, sir!" rang the instructor's voice. dick thrilled with pleasure as he received the command with a salute. he had not looked, but he knew that those dearest to him were in the crowd beyond, looking on. "draw sabre!" sounded dick's not loud but clean-cut order. greg and anstey repeated the order in turn. instantly all down the strong line naked steel leaped forth. the sabres sprang to the "carry," and the superb picture breathed of military might. cadet captain dick prescott, well in advance, sat facing his squadron; he throbbed with a soldier's ardor at the beauty of the scene. "fours right!" he shouted. "fours right! fours right!" sounded in the differing tones of greg and anstey. "march!" "march! march!" into a long column of fours, to the tune of jingling accoutrements, the squadron swung. prescott wheeled about and rode forward at a walk. in the same instant, the bugler, a musician belonging to the regular army, trotted forward, then slowed down to a walk close to the young squadron commander. from that time on, all the commands were to be given by the bugle. "trot! march!" traveled on clear, musical notes, and the long line of young horsemen moved forward at a faster gait. there was none of the bumping up and down in saddle that disfigures the riding taught in most riding schools. these gray-clad young centaurs rode as though parts of their animals. straight past the canvas shelter that had been erected for the superintendent, the board of visitors and their ladies, swung the four platoons in magnificent order and rhythm. then, on the return, the young cavalrymen swept, at a gallop, by platoons, in echelon and by column of squads. this done, the cadets rode forward, baiting in line before the reviewers. here the senior cavalry instructor rode in front and gave the command: "present---sabres!" the salute to the superintendent and his guests was given with magnificent precision. "continue the drill, mr. prescott!" rang the senior instructor's voice. once more the line of gray and steel swept over the plain. now, the evolutions were those of the field in war time. the charge brought cheers from a thousand throats, and a great fluttering of handkerchiefs. then, while three platoons halted, remaining motionless in saddle, the fourth platoon, after starting at the gallop, sheathed sabres and drew pistols. crack! crack! crack! crack! it was merely mimic war, with blank ammunition, but not an onlooker escaped the impression of how much death and destruction such a line of charging, firing men might carry before them. now the whole squadron was in motion once more. at the sharp, clear order of the bugle the line halted. at the next peal one man in every four stood at the heads of four horses, while the other three of each four ran quickly forward, in fine though open formation. "halt! kneel! ready! aim! at will---_fire_!" here was battle, real enough in everything but the fatalities. each man on the firing line fired rapidly, several shots to the minute, though real aim was taken every time the bolt was shot forward and before the trigger was pulled. tiny, almost invisible puffs of smoke issued from the carbine muzzles. next, an orderly spirited, swift retreat in the face of an imaginary enemy, was made to the horses, which were mounted like a flash, and spurred away. some horses carried double, for some of the cadets lay limp and useless, impersonating men wounded by the pursuing enemy. it was all so stirring, so grand, that the plain rang with cheers. in an hour the drill was over, and the young cavalrymen stood under the showers or disported in the pool. only for a few minutes, however. the infantry drill followed swiftly, after which these same men must swiftly be immaculate in white ducks and the handsome gray full-dress jackets. then followed dress parade, after which came supper, and the first classmen at west point were through with the last day of full duty in gray! chapter xxiii a west pointer's love affair with beating heart dick prescott presented himself at the hotel that evening, and sent up his card to mrs. bentley and the girls. greg was with his chum, of course, but greg was not in a flutter. he was to escort belle meade---an arrangement of chumship, for belle wore the engagement ring of dave darrin, one of greg's old high school chums. for dick, this was the night to which he had looked forward during four years. to-night he felt sure of his career; he was to be graduated into the army, with a position in life fine enough for laura to grace with him. it was on this night, that he had determined to find out whether her heart beat for him, or whether it had already been captured by young mr. cameron back in the home town. "and very likely she wouldn't think of having either of us," smiled dick to himself. "it's easy enough for a girl to be a fellow's friend, but when it comes to selecting a husband she is quite likely to be more particular." it was just after dark as the two young couples sauntered away from the hotel on their way to cullum hall. "you young men are now sure of your army careers," remarked belle, as the four strolled down the road. "as absolutely sure as one can ever be of anything," dick responded. "yes, i feel positive that i am now to be an officer in the army." "while poor dave has just started on a two-year cruise, and must then come back for another examination before he is sure of his commission," sighed belle. "the middies don't get a square deal," said dick regretfully. "when darrin and dalzell were graduated, the other day, they should have been commissioned as ensigns before they were ordered to sea. some day congress and the people will see the injustice of it all, and the unfairness will be remedied." how could prescott possibly know that his commission in the army was not yet sure? that same sandy-bearded, bespectacled and stoop-shouldered ex-cadet jordan was even now eyeing dick from a little distance. "humph! prescott feels mighty big at this moment!" growled the young scoundrel. "i wonder how he'll be feeling at midnight, down in cadet hospital, when the surgeons tell him he has no chance of ever being a sound man again? confound him! i could almost find it in my heart to kill the fellow, instead of merely maiming him. but maiming will be the keener revenge. all his life hereafter prescott will be thinking what might have been if he hadn't met me this night! shall i leap on him when he's coming back from the hotel, after the graduation ball? no; for he'd have holmes with him then. i'll send in word and call him out from the ball, with a message that an old schoolmate wants to see him on something most urgent. i'll have prescott to myself, and all i need is a few seconds. i'm half as powerful again as prescott is!" jordan was not at all lacking in a certain type of ferocious brute courage. as he had just boasted to himself, he was powerful enough to be able to overpower dick in a hand-to-hand conflict, yet the scoundrel meant to attack prescott unawares, without giving the latter a chance to defend himself. then, too, the sight of laura, looking sweeter and more beautiful than she had ever appeared in her life, goaded jordan on to greater fury. "that is the very girl i had planned to cut prescott out with, after he had been kicked from the service, and i was still in the uniform. but it fell out the other way about," gritted jordan. "prescott wears the uniform, and i've been dishonorably dropped from the rolls! prescott, i've a double score to settle with you to-night!" but of all this, of course, prescott was wholly unaware. "how much time have we to spare?" queried dick, then glancing at his watch. "ten minutes. laura, will you stroll around the hall with me and look down over the cliff at the noble old hudson! this will be one of my last glimpses as a cadet." laura assented. greg was about to follow, when belle meade drew him back. "take me inside," she urged. "i am eager to see the decorations." "but dick and laura?" queried greg. "they're of age and can take care of themselves," smiled miss meade. dick prescott's heart was beating, now, like a trip-hammer. even the next day's graduation, and the entrance into the army looked insignificant to him compared with the question of his fate that was now seething in his brain and which he must now have settled. two or three times he opened his lips to speak, then closed them, as the two young people stood glancing down at the river through the darkness. "aren't you unusually silent, dick?" asked laura. "perhaps so," he assented in a low voice. "i'm scared." "scared!" "yes; scared cold. i never knew such a fright in my life before." "why, what-----" "laura, i reckon the brief, direct way of the soldier will be best. laura, ever since we were in high school together i have loved you. through all the years that have followed, that love has never slumbered for an instant. it has grown stronger with every passing \ week. i-----" with a little cry laura bentley drew back. "i'm going right through to the end," cried dick desperately. "then you can throw cold water over me---if you must. laura, i love you, and that love is nearly all of my life! i ask you to become a soldier's bride---mine!" "and---and---is that what has scared you?" asked laura in a very low voice. "yes!" "what a pitiful coward you are, then, to be a candidate for a commission in the army," laughed laura bentley softly. "but you---you haven't answered me." "why, dick, i've never had another thought, in six years, than that i loved you!" "laura! you love me?" "why, of course, dick. what has ailed your eyes and your reasoning powers?" with a glad cry, prescott gathered his betrothed in his arms, claiming a lover's privilege. then out of an inner pocket he drew a little box, drew out a circlet of gold in which a solitaire glistened, and slipped the ring over the finger set apart for the purpose of wearing such pledges. "and how soon, laura---sweetheart?" he demanded eagerly. "now, as to that, you must act like a creature of reason," laura laughingly insisted. "you are not yet in the army. at first, after you do receive your commission, you must be saving and careful. it needs furniture and all those things, you see, dick, dearest, to form the background of a home. we must wait a little while---but what sweet waiting it will be!" "won't it, though!" demanded dick with fervor. "laura, it seems to me that i must be dreaming. i can scarcely realize my great good fortune." "nor can i," replied laura softly. "you have always been my boy knight, dick." as they stepped inside and approached their nearest friends, belle murmured in greg's ear: "look at the electric glow that comes from the third finger of laura's left hand. now, do you comprehend, booby, what a fatal mistake you would have made, had i allowed you to tag them around to the cliff?" "well, i'm jiggered!" gasped cadet holmes. "which means that i'm petrified with delight." "get practical, then," chided belle. "take me forward to them, and we'll have the happiness of being the first to congratulate the newest arrivals in paradise!" two minutes later, the leader of the orchestra swung his baton. as the music pealed forth, dick prescott knew, for the first time in his life, the full meaning of the dance in cullum hall. there were many other newly betrothed couples on the floor that happy night of the graduation ball. the air was fragrant with flowers, but there was more---the atmosphere of new-found happiness on all sides. outside, in the shadow of the moonless night, a stoop-shouldered figure prowled in the near vicinity of cullum hall. this was jordan, intent on guessing when would be the most favorable moment for sending in the message that should call prescott out to his doom. one of the watchmen, a soldier, in the quartermaster's department, belted, and with a revolver hanging therefrom in its holster, passed by and noted jordan. "are you waiting for anyone, sir?" asked the watchman, halting a moment, though only in mild curiosity. "i'm going to send a message in, after the music stops, for my cousin," replied jordan, who knew that he must give some account of himself. "your cousin? a cadet?" asked the watchman. "oh, yes. mr. atterbury, of the first class," responded jordan, giving the name of his former roommate at a venture. "very good, sir," replied the watchman, and passed on. mr. atterbury, however, at that very moment, chanced to be standing on the further side of a tree not far distant, and with him were two other first classmen. "who is that fellow?" queried atterbury in a low whisper. "i've seen him around here before this, and his voice sounds mighty familiar." the passing watchman heard the question, so he answered: "he says he is your cousin, sir!" "he is not my cousin," replied atterbury with strange sternness. "and, since the fellow is here in disguise, it ought to be our business to ask him some questions. come on, fellows!" atterbury strode out of the shadow, followed just a second later by "durry" and "doug." the prowler's first instinct was to run, but he dare not; that would proclaim guilt. "see here, sir," demanded atterbury, striding straight up to the stoop-shouldered, bewhiskered one, "your name is jordan, isn't it?" "no!" lied the wretch, in a voice that he strove to disguise. "yes, it is," insisted atterbury. "rooming with you nearly four years, i can't be fooled with any suddenly pickled voice. jordan, what are you doing here in disguise?" "i don't know that my presence here is any of your business," growled the ex-cadet. "yes; it is," insisted atterbury. "and you'll give us an account, too, or we'll lay hold of you and turn you over to some one official." at that threat jordan turned to bolt. as he did so, three cadets sprang after him. at the third or fourth bound they had hold of him and bore him, fighting, to the earth. even now jordan used his splendid physique and strength in a determined, bitter struggle. but "durry" helped turn the fellow over, face down, and then all three sat on their catch. "doug," however, felt something hard. leaping up, he made a quick search, then drew from jordan's hip pocket a length of lead pipe wrapped in red flannel. "ye gods of war," gasped douglass, "what sort of weapon is this for a former gentleman to carry?" "let me up," pleaded jordan, "and i'll make a quick hike!" "don't you let him up, fellows," warned douglass. "now, whom did jordan seek with an implement like this? there could be but one of our men---prescott." "have you anything to say, jordan?" demanded atterbury. "not a blessed word," growled jordan, no longer attempting to disguise his voice. "then we have," returned "doug." "but you two fellows hold him until i come back." douglass ran over to the cliff, then, with a mighty throw, hurled the bar of lead out into the hudson, far below. then he darted back. "now, fellows," muttered douglass in a low voice, "i'd like mighty well to turn this scoundrel over. but we don't want to put such a foul besmirchment on the class name, if we can avoid it, the night before graduation. jordan, if we let you go, will you hike, and never stop hiking until you're miles and miles away from west point?" "yes; on my honor," protested the other eagerly. "on your---bosh!" retorted "doug" impatiently. "don't spring such strange oaths on us, fellow. let him." "now, jordan, start moving, and keep it up!" then the trio, after watching the rascal out of sight, went inside, and douglass, at the first opportunity, warned dick of what had happened outside in the summer darkness. chapter xxiv conclusion the graduating exercises at west point had finished. the secretary of war, in the presence of the superintendent, the commandant and the members of the faculty of the united states military academy, flanked by the board of visitors, had handed his diploma to the last man, the cadet at the foot of the graduating class, mr. atterbury. dick had graduated as number thirty-four; greg as thirty-seven. either might have chosen the cavalry, or possibly the artillery arm of the service, but both had already expressed a preference for the infantry arm. "the 'doughboys' (infantry) are always the fellows who see the hardest of the fighting in war time," was the way dick put it. now the superintendent made a few closing remarks. these finished, the band blared out with a triumphal march, to the first notes of which the first class rose and marched out, amid cheers and hand-clapping, to be followed by the other classes. five minutes later the young graduates were laying aside the gray uniform for good and all. cit. clothes now went on, and each grad. surveyed himself with some wonder in attire which was so unfamiliar. out in the quadrangle, for the last time, the grads. met. there, too, were the members of the classes remaining, but these latter were still in the cadet gray, and would be until the close of their own grad. days. hurried good-byes were said. warm handclasps sounded on all sides. few words were said, but there were many wet eyes. then some of the grads. raced for the station to board the next city-bound train. greg remained behind with dick. after quitting the quadrangle, they bent swift steps toward the hotel, where awaited mrs. prescott, mrs. bentley, laura and belle. something else waited, too---a carriage, or rather, a small bus, for dick and greg were no longer cadets and might ride over the post in a carriage if they chose. "it was beautifully impressive, dear," whispered laura, referring to the graduating exercises. "but, thank goodness, it's over, and i have my diploma in this suit case," murmured dick grimly. "no more fearful grind, such as we've been going through for more than four years. no more tortured doubts as to whether we'll ever grad. and get our commissions in the army. that is settled, now. and think, laura, if i hear a bugle in the city to-morrow morning, i can simply turn over and take another nap." "you lazy boy!" laughed laura half chidingly. "you spend four years and three months here, and see if you don't feel the same way about it," smiled dick. "but i love every gray stone in these grand old buildings, just the same. west point shall be ever dear in my memory!" greg's mother now came out and joined the ladies on the porch. a moment or two later mr. prescott and mr. holmes stepped out and grasped their sons' hands. "we haven't a heap of time left if we want to catch the down-river steamboat," suggested dick, with a glance at his watch. so this happy little home party entered the bus, and the drive to the dock began. they passed scores of cadets, who carefully saluted these grads. everyone in the party knew of the betrothal of dick and laura. greg had had to stand a good deal of good-natured chaffing from his parents because he had not fared as well. "the next girl i get engaged to," sighed greg, "i'm going to insist on marrying instantly. then there'll be no danger of losing her." at the dock, anstey, durville, douglass and other grads. waited, though the majority of the members of the late first class were already speeding to new york on a train that had started a few minutes earlier. "i couldn't bear to go down by train, suh," explained anstey in a very low voice. "i want to stand at the stern of the steamer, and see west point's landmarks fade and vanish one by one. and i don't reckon, suh, that i shall want anyone to talk to me while i'm looking back from the stern of the boat." "same here," observed greg, with what was, for him, a considerable display of feeling. then the boat swept in, and the west point party went silently aboard. all made their way to the stern on the saloon deck. that evening the class was to meet, for the last time as a whole, at one of the theaters in new york. and the late cadets would sit together, solidly, as a class. friends of graduates who wished would attend the theater, though in seats away from the class. dick and greg's relatives and friends were all to attend. more, they were to stop at the same hotel. the next forenoon the ladies would attend to some shopping. then the reunited party would journey back to gridley. a dozen or so west point graduates stood at the stern of the swift river steamer. the captain of the craft, a veteran in the river service, knew something of how these young men just out of the gray felt. for the first five miles down the river the swift craft went at half speed. then, suddenly, full speed ahead was rung on the engine-room bell, and the craft went on under greatly increased headway. "well, gentlemen," murmured anstey, moving around and walking slowly forward, "the united states military academy is the grandest alma mater that a fellow could possibly have. i'm glad to be through, glad to be away from west point, but i shall journey reverently back there any time when i have any leisure in this bright part of the good old world." how sweet the joys of the great metropolis! yet these joys would have palled had our travelers remained there too long. the following afternoon they were again journeying toward what is, after all, the one real spot on earth---home! gridley well-nigh went wild over its returning west pointers---though now west pointers no longer. one of dick prescott's first tasks was to go proudly to dr. bentley, to state that he had had the wonderful good fortune to win laura's heart, and to ask whether her father had any objection. "objection, dick?" beamed the good old physician. "why, lad, for years i've been hoping---yes, praying that you and laura would have this good fortune. wherever you may be stationed in the world, you'll let our daughter come back to us once in a while, i hope." dick solemnly promised, whereat dr. bentley smiled. "that's all nonsense, dick," laughed laura's father. "i know, in my own heart, that you're going to be as good a son to mother and me as you have been to your own parents. god bless you both!" a new lot of high school boys dick and greg found in gridley, but the new crop seemed to be fully as promising as any that dick and greg could remember in their own old high school days when dick & co. had flourished. a fortnight, altogether, dick and greg enjoyed in the good old home town, hallowed to them by so many memories. then one morning each received a bulky official envelope bearing the imprint of the war department at washington. how their eyes glistened, then moistened, as each young west point grad. drew out of the envelope the parchment on which was written his commission as a second lieutenant of united states infantry. more, their request had been granted. they had been assigned to the same regiment---the forty-fourth. their instructions called for them to start within forty-eight hours, and to wire acknowledgment of orders to washington. the forty-fourth united states infantry was at that time in the far west, in a country that at times teemed with adventure for uncle sam's soldiers. here we must take leave of lieutenant dick prescott and of lieutenant greg holmes, united states army, for their cadet days are over and gone. readers, however, who wish to meet these sterling young americans again, and who would also like to renew acquaintance with two former members of dick & co., tom reade and harry hazelton, will be able to do so in volume number five of the _young engineers' series_, entitled: "_the young engineers on the gulf_." in this very interesting volume the young engineers and the young army officers will be found to have some very startling adventures together. readers will also be able to learn more of the careers of dick prescott and greg holmes, as army officers, in the "_boys of the army series_." some of their campaigns will be described very fully, for these splendid young officers served as officers and instructors of the "_boys of the army_." the end dick prescott's second year at west point or finding the glory of the soldier's life h. irving hancock contents chapters i. the class president lectures on hazing ii. plebe briggs learns a few things iii. greg debates between girls and mischief iv. the o.c. wants to know v. "i respectfully decline to answer, sir" vi. greg prepares for flirtation walk vii. the folks from home viii. cadet dodge hears something ix. spoony femme--flirtation walk x. the cure for plebe animal spirits xi. lieutenant topham feels queer xii. under a fearful charge xiii. in close arrest xiv. friends who stand by xv. on trial by court-martial xvi. a verdict and a hop xvii. "a liar and a coward" xviii. the fight in the barracks xix. mr. dennison's turn is served xx. a discovery at the riding drill xxi. pitching for the army nine xxii. greg's secret and another's xxiii. the committee on class honors xxiv. conclusion chapter i the class president lectures on hazing leaving the road that wound by the officers' quarters at the north end, turning on to the road that passed the hotel, a hot, somewhat tired and rather dusty column of cadets swung along towards their tents in the distance. the column was under arms, as though the cadets had been engaged in target practice or out on a reconnaissance. the young men wore russet shoes, gray trousers and leggings, gray flannel shirts and soft campaign hats. their appearance was not that of soldiers on parade, but of the grim toilers and fighters who serve in the field. their work that morning had, in fact, been strictly in line with labor, for the young men, under captain mcaneny, had been engaged in the study of field fortifications. to be more exact, the young men had been digging military trenches---yes---digging them, for at west point hard labor is not beneath the cadet's dignity. just as they swung off the road past the officers' quarters the young men, marching in route step, fell quickly into step at the command of the cadet officer at the head of the line. now they marched along at no greater speed, but with better swing and rhythm. they were, in fact, perfect soldiers---the best to be found on earth. past the hotel they moved, and out along the road that leads by the summer encampment. the brisk command of "halt" rang out. immediately afterwards the command was dismissed. carrying their rifles at ease, the young men stepped briskly through different company streets to their tents. three of these brought up together at one of the tents. "home, sweet home," hummed greg holmes, as he stepped into his tent. "thank goodness for the luxury of a little rest," muttered dick prescott. "rest?" repeated tom anstey, with a look of amazement. "what time have you, now, for a rest?" "i can spare the time to stretch and yawn," laughed dick. "if i am capable of swift work, after that, i may indulge in two yawns." "look out, or you'll get skinned for being late at dinner formation," warned greg. there was, in truth, no time for fooling. these cadets, and their comrades, had reached camp just on the dot of time. but now they had precious few minutes in which to cleanse themselves, brush their hair and get into white duck trousers and gray fatigue blouses. the call for dinner formation would sound at the appointed instant and they must be ready. sound it did, in short time, but it caught no one napping. nearly everyone of the young men in camp had just returned from a forenoon's work, and hot and dusty at that. but now, as the call sounded, every member of three classes stepped from his tent looking as though he had just stepped from an hour spent in the hands of a valet. not one showed the least flaw in personal neatness. moreover, the tents which these cadets had just quitted were in absolute order and wholly clean. at west point no excuse whatever is accepted for untidiness of person or quarters. with military snap and briskness the battalion was formed. then at brisk command, the battalion turned to the left in column of fours, marching down the hot, sun-blazed road to cadet mess. despite the heat and the hard work of the forenoon---these cadets had been up, as they we every day in summer, since five in the morning---spirits ran high at the midday meal, and chaffing talk and laughter ran from table to table. the meal over, the battalion marched back to camp. there were a few minutes yet before the afternoon drills. a few minutes of leisure? yes, if such an easy act as dressing in uniform appropriate to the coming drill, may be termed leisure. "drills are going to be called off, i reckon," murmured greg, poking his head outside the khaki colored tent after he had put himself in readiness. "what's up?" demanded anstey, lacing a legging. "the sky is about the color of ink over old crow's nest," reported greg. just then there came a vivid flash of lightning, followed, in a few seconds, by a deep, echoing roll of thunder. the summer storms along this part of the hudson river sometimes come almost out of the clear sky. "i'm always thankful for even the smallest favors," muttered anstey, with a yawn. "we'll have to make up this drill some other day, when it's hotter," dick observed, but he nevertheless dropped on to a campstool with a grunt of relief. yes; each of these three cadets could now have a campstool of his own in quarters, for prescott, holmes and anstey were all yearlings. and a yearling is "some one" in the cadet corps. for the first few days after his release from the plebe class the yearling is quite likely to feel that he is nearly "the whole thing." by degrees, however, the yearling in summer encampment discovers that there is a first class of much older cadets above him. there are no second classmen in summer encampment, until just before the time to break camp and return to barracks for the following academic year. members of the new second class---men who have successfully passed through the first two years of life at the united states military academy---are allowed two months and a half of summer furlough, during which time they return to their homes. readers of the foregoing volume in this series, _"dick prescott's first year at west point"_, are already familiar with the ordeals, the hard work, the sorrows and the few pleasures, indeed, of plebe life at west point. these readers of the former volume recall just how dick and greg reached west point in march of the year before; how they passed their entrance examinations and settled down to fifteen months of plebedom. such readers recall the fights in which the new men found themselves involved, the hazing, laughable and otherwise, will be recalled. our former readers will recollect that about the only pleasure that dick prescott found in his plebedom lay in his election to the presidency of his class---position that carries more responsibility than pleasure for the poor plebe leader of his class. but now all was wholly and happily changed. dick, greg and anstey were yearlings, entitled to real and friendly recognition from the upper classmen. it is only seldom that yearlings are accused of b.j.-ety (freshness), for about all of that is taken out of the cadet during his plebedom. but the greatest sign of all to the new yearling is that now, instead of finding himself liable to hazing at any time, he is now the one who administers the hazing. it is rare that a first or second classman takes the trouble to haze a plebe. a first or second classman may notice that a plebe is a little too b.j. if so, the first or second classman usually drops a hint to a yearling, and the latter usually takes the plebe in hand. so far, our young friends had been yearlings just three days. they had not, as yet, exercised their new function of hazing any plebes. the first three days in camp had been too full of new and hard duties to permit of their doing so. as greg looked out of the tent, the wind suddenly sprang up, driving a gust of big raindrops before it. in another moment there was a steady downpour. cadet corporals in raincoats darted through the company streets, carrying the cheering word that drills were suspended until change of orders. "i hope it rains all afternoon, then," gaped anstey, behind his hand. "it's a rest for mine---you bunkies (tentmates) permitting." anstey stretched himself on his bed and was soon sound asleep. in summer encampment, taps sound at 10.30, and first call to reveille sounds at five in the morning. six hours and a half of sleep are none too much for a young man engaged at hard drilling and other work. the cadet, when his duties, permit, may, however, snatch a few minutes of sleep at any time through the day. cadets in camp quickly get the knack of making a few minutes count for a nap. "it's going to be a good one," declared greg, as the rain settled down into a monotonous drumming against the shelter flap over the tent. "a long one, too," spoke prescott hopefully. "greg, i actually believe that the wind is growing cool." "don't speak about it," begged greg. "i'm superstitious." "superstitious?" "yes; if a rain comes up just after dress parade and guardmount, then it'll keep up the rest of the evening, when we might be enjoying ourselves after a strenuous day of work. but if you get to exulting over the rain that is to get us out of a drill or two, or bragging about a cool breeze getting lost around here in the daytime, then the raindrops cease at once, the wind dies down, and the sun comes out hotter than it has been before in a week!" dick took another look outside. "then i won't say that this rain is going to last all afternoon, but it is," dick smiled. "now, you've spoiled it all!" cried greg. "say, holmesy, old spectre!" hailed a laughing voice across the street. "hullo!" greg answered. "haven't a cold, have you?" "no." "don't feel that you're marked for pneumonia?" "what are you driving at furlong?" greg called back. "come along over, if you can brave the storm!" called yearling furlong. "you and the rest." "shall we go over, dick?" asked greg, turning around. "yes; why not? if nothing else, we'll leave anstey in peace for his big sleep. duck out. i'll be on your heels." the flap across the way was thrown open hospitably as greg entered, followed by cadet prescott. "where's old mason and dixon?" demanded furlong, alluding to the fact that anstey was a virginian. "he has turned in for a big sleep," greg informed their hosts. "great!" chuckled furlong. "let's peep in and throw a bucket of water over him. he'll wake up and think the tent is leaking." "don't you dare!" warned dick, but he said it with a grin that robbed his rebuke of offence. "old mace (short for 'mason and dixon') has been tired out ever since being on guard the first night in camp. he actually needs the big sleep. i believe this rain is for his benefit." "say that again, and put it slowly," protested furlong, looking bewildered. griffin and dobbs, the other two yearlings who tented with him, laughed in amusement. "now, that we've lured the class president in here," continued cadet furlong, "we'll call this a class meeting. a quorum isn't necessary. you've got my campstool, mr. president, so we'll consider you in the chair. may i state the business before the meeting?" "proceed, mr. furlong," requested prescott gravely. "then, sir, and gentlemen-----" began furlong. "the chair calls you to order!" interrupted dick sternly. "will the chair kindly explain the point of order?" "it is out of order to make any distinction between the chair and 'gentlemen.'" "i yield to the---the pride of the chair," agreed furlong, with a comical bow. "mr. chairman and other gentlemen, the question that i wish to put is-----" cadet furlong now paused, glancing solemnly about him before he continued: "what are we going to do with the plebes?" dick dropped his tone of presiding officer as he answered: "i take it, miles---pardon me, _furlong_, that your question really means, what are we going to do to the plebes?" "same thing," contended the other yearling. "why should we do anything to them?" asked dick gravely. "why should we---say, did you hear the man?" appealed furlong, looking around him despairingly at the other yearlings. "why should we do anything to the plebes? and yet, in a trusting moment, we elected old ramrod to be president of the class! why should we---o-o-o-o-h!" cadet furlong made a gurgling sound in his throat, as though he were perishing for lack of air. "prescott isn't serious," hinted griffin. "yes, i am," contended dick, half stubbornly. "griffin, what did you think of yearlings---last year?" "what i thought, last year," retorted cadet griffin, "doesn't much matter now. then i was an ignorant, stupid, unregenerate, unsophisticated, useless, worthless and objectionable member of the community. i hadn't advanced far enough to appreciate the very exalted position that a yearling holds by right." "we now know, quite well," broke in dobbs, "that it is a yearling's sacred and bounden duty to lick a plebe into shape in the shortest possible order. though it never has been done, and never can be done inside of a year," he finished with a sigh. "do you seek words of wisdom from your class president?" cadet prescott inquired. "oh, yes, wise and worthy sir!" begged furlong. "then this is almost the best that i can think of," dick went on. it will never be possible to stamp out wholly the hazing of plebes at west point. but we fellows can make a new record, if we will, by frowning on all severe and needless forms of hazing. i had the reputation of getting a lot of hazing last year, didn't i?" "you surely did, old ramrod," murmured furlong sympathetically. "at times, then, my heart ached for you, but now, with my increased intelligence, i perceive how much good it all did you." "i took my hazing pretty well, didn't i?" insisted dick. "all that came your way you took like a gentleman," agreed dobbs. "at that time," went on prescott, "i made up my mind that i'd submit, during my plebedom. but i also made up my mind---and it still my mind---that i'd go very slow, indeed, in passing the torment on to the plebes who followed me." dick spoke so seriously that there was an awkward pause. "i don't want you to think that i'm going to set up as a yearling saint," dick added. "i don't mean to say that i may not put a single plebe through any kind of pace. what i do mean is that i shall go very slowly indeed in annoying any plebe. i shan't do it, probably, unless i note a case of such utter b.j.-ety that i feel bound to bring the plebe quickly to his senses." "you cast a gloom over us," muttered furlong. "so far we haven't done any hazing. we were thinking of ordering a plebe in here, and starting in on him, so as to get our hands in. we need practice in the fine art." "don't let me interfere with your pursuit of happiness," begged dick, with mock politeness. "but, seriously, old ramrod, are you as strong for the plebe as we have just been led to believe? are you prepared to take the plebe to our heart and comfort him---instead of training him?" "do you believe we ought to take the plebe right into our midst, and condole with him until we get him over his homesickness? do you feel that we should overlook all the traditional b.j.ety of the plebe, and admit him to full fellowship without any probation or instruction?" "no," spoke dick promptly. "i don't believe in patting the plebe on the shoulder and increasing his conceit. when a candidate first comes to west point, and is admitted as a cadet, he is one of the most conceited simpletons on earth. he has to have that all taken out of him, i admit. he must be taught to respect and defer to upper classmen, just as he will have to do with his superior officers after he goes from here out into the service. the plebe must be kept in his place. i don't believe in making him feel that he's a pet. i do believe in frowning down all b.j.-ety. i don't believe in recognizing a plebe, except officially. but i don't believe in subjecting any really good fellow to a lot of senseless and half cruel hazing that has no purpose except the amusement of the yearlings. now, i think i've made myself clear. at least, i've said all that i have to say on the subject. for the rest, i'll listen to the ideas of the rest of you." there was silence, broken at last by greg, who said: "i think i agree, in the main, with prescott." "oh, of course," grunted dobbs, in a tone which might mean that greg holmes was but the "shadow" of dick prescott. greg looked quickly at dobbs, but saw nothing in the other's face that justified him in taking open offence. somehow, though none of the others said anything to that effect, cadet prescott began to feel that he was a bit in the way at a conference of this sort. he didn't rise to leave at once, but he swung around on his campstool near the door. without throwing the flap open, prescott peeped through a slit-like opening. as he did so he saw something that made his eyes flash. the rain was pouring a little less heavily now. down the company street came a cadet with a pail of water. it was mr. briggs, a round faced, laughter loving, somewhat roly poly lad of the plebe class. just as mr. briggs was passing the tent in which anstey lay making up some needed sleep, a snore came out. briggs halted, glancing swiftly up and down the company street. no upper classman being in sight, mr. briggs peeped into the tent. he saw anstey, asleep and alone. instantly raising the flap just enough, mr. briggs took careful aim, then shot half the contents of the pail of water over the chest and face of yearling anstey. dick prescott watched unseen by the b.j. plebe. mr. briggs fled lightly, but swiftly four tents down the line and disappeared into his own quarters. from across the way, came a roar of wrath. anstey was up, bellowing like a bull. yet, roused so ruthlessly from a sound sleep, it took him a few seconds to realize that his wetting must be due to human agency. then anstey flew to the tent door, looking out, but the chuckling plebe was already in his own tent, out of sight. "after what i've just said," announced dick grimly, "i think i know of a plebe who requires some correction." "listen to our preacher!" jeered furlong. chapter ii plebe briggs learns a few things "anstey!" called prescott softly across the company street. "oh, was it you idiots?" demanded the virginian, showing his wrathful looking face. "no," replied dick. "come over as quickly as you can." it took anstey a few minutes to dry himself, and to rearray himself, for the virginian's sense of dignity would not permit him to go visiting in the drenched garments in which he had awakened. "which one of you was it?" demanded anstey, as he finally entered the tent of furlong and his bunkies. "no one here," dick replied. "the other gentlemen don't even know what happened, for i haven't told them." so anstey withdrew his look of suspicion from the five cadets. no cadet may ever lie; not even to a comrade in the corps. any cadet who utters a lie, and is detected in it, is ostracized as being unfit for the company of gentlemen. so, when dick's prompt denial came, anstey believed, as he was obliged to do. "it was a plebe, mace," continued dick. "i'll have all but his life, then!" cried the southerner fiercely. "i wouldn't even think of it. the offender is only a cub," urged dick. "if you accept my advice, mace, you won't even call the poor blubber out. we'll just summon him here, and make the little imp so ashamed of himself that the lesson ought to last him through the rest of his plebedom. i'm cooler than you are at this moment, mace, but none the less disgusted. will you let me handle this affair?" "yes," agreed anstey quickly. as for furlong, griffin and dobbs, it was "just nuts" for them to see their class president, lately so stately on the subject of hazing, now actually proposing to take a plebe sternly in hand. the three bunkies exchanged grins. "tell us, mace," continued dick, "have you had any occasion to take mr. briggs in hand at any time? "so it was mr. briggs?" demanded anstey angrily, turning toward the door. "wait! have you taken mr. briggs in hand at any time?" "yes," admitted anstey. "when you and holmesy were out, last evening, i had mr. briggs in our tent for grinning at me and failing to say 'sir' when he addressed me." "you put him through some performances?" "nothing so very tiresome," replied anstey. "i made him brace for five minutes, and then go through the silent manual of arms for five more." "humph! that wasn't much!" grunted furlong. "i guess that was why mr. briggs felt that he had to get square," mused dick aloud. "but a plebe is not allowed to get square by doing anything b.j." again anstey turned as if to go out, but dick broke in: "don't do it, mace. try, for the next half hour, to keep as cool as an iceberg. trust the treatment of the impish plebe to us. greg, old fellow, will you be the one to go down and tell mr. briggs that his presence in this tent is desired immediately?" plebe briggs was alone in his tent, his bunkies being absent on a visit in another tent. mr. briggs was still grinning broadly as he remembered the roar with which anstey had acknowledged the big splash. but of a sudden mr. briggs's grin faded like the mist, for greg was at the doorway. "mr. briggs, your presence is desired at once at mr. furlong's tent." "yes, sir," replied the plebe meekly. he got up with an alacrity that he did not feel, but which was the result of the new soldierly habit. mr. briggs threw on his campaign hat and a raincoat, but, by the time he was outside of the tent, holmes was just disappearing under canvas up the company street. "i guess i'm in for it," muttered the plebe sheepishly, as he strode up the street. "confound it, can a yearling see just as well when he's asleep as when he's awake?" he halted before furlong's tent, rapping on the pole. "mr. briggs, sir." "come in, mr. briggs." the plebe stepped into the tent, drawing himself up and standing at attention. for some seconds none of the yearlings spoke. in fact, only dick looked at the fourth classman. "mr. briggs," demanded prescott at last, "where is your bucket?" "in my tent, sir." "you will fill it, and report back here with it at once." "very good, sir." "now, what on earth is coming?" quaked the plebe, as he possessed himself of his bucket and started for the nearest tap. in the shortest time possible the young man reported hack at the tent, his bucket as full of water as it would safely carry. "set the bucket down, mr. briggs, at the rear of the tent." the plebe obeyed, then stood once more at attention. "mr. briggs," continued the president of the yearling class, "it was you who threw water over mr. anstey?" "i am not obliged to answer that, sir," replied the plebe. "you're quite within your rights there, mister," dick admitted. "but i looked out of this tent just in time to see you do it. have you any wish to deny it now?" "no, sir." "mister, you have given us the impression that you are altogether to b.j.-ish to amount to anything in the cadet corps. your sense of humor is bubbling over, but your judgment is so small that it would roll around inside the eye of a needle. this is a serious condition, and we judge that your health will be sadly affected if the condition is not promptly cured. one the first symptoms to be subdued is that of a swollen head. the head needs reducing in size. take off your hat, and kneel in front of the bucket." this mr. briggs did, meekly enough, now. there is never any sense in a mere plebe refusing to follow the commands of a yearling. "you will remain in that kneeling posture, mister, unless you are released from it. now, thrust your head down into the water, as far as you can without interfering with your breathing. remain in that position. take your hands off the floor, sir, and do not rest them on the floor again. continue with your head in soak until you are directed to do otherwise." even anstey had to look grimly satisfied with this punishment. the unhappy plebe certainly did present a most laughable yet woeful appearance. it seemed impossible to keep this position, without occasional steadying by the hands, but it had to be done. if the reader does not consider it a hard feat to kneel thus, with one's head immersed in the water, the reader can easily satisfy his curiosity on the point. having thus put the plebe in soak, the yearlings all turned away from him, conversing among themselves on one subject and another. yet, had the plebe ventured to raise his head somewhat out of the water, or to seek support from his hands, he would quickly have discovered that he was being effectively if covertly watched. minute after minute the plebe remained "in soak." to him it seemed, of course, like hours. at last, when human endurance of the briggs brand could last no longer, the plebe gave an expected lurch sideways, falling flat, upsetting the bucket and causing much of the water flow along his own neck and beneath his underclothing. "mister, you are not on your knees, as directed," exclaimed cadet prescott. "i---i am sorry, sir, but i couldn't help falling over," replied crestfallen mr. briggs, standing at attention beside his overturned bucket. he wriggled slightly, in a way eloquently suggestive of the water that was trickling over his skin under his clothing. "did you get wet, mister?" asked dick. "yes, sir." "skin wet?" "yes, sir." "now, that is really too bad, mister," continued prescott in a tone that hinted at a great deal of sympathy. "you mustn't be permitted to get chilled. exercise is what you need." dick paused. "poor, young mr. briggs stood mute, blinking back. "milesy, may mr. briggs have the use of your piece for a few minutes?" "why, surely," declared cadet furlong in a tone of great cordiality. "mr. briggs, take mr. furlong's piece, and go through the silent manual of arms," ordered the president of the yearling class. mr. briggs picked up the rifle that furlong pointed out to him. then, trying to look very grave in order to hide the extreme sheepishness that he really felt, mr. briggs brought the rifle up to port arms. "proceed through the manual, mister," dick counseled. "and keep going until we decide that you have done it long enough to put you past the danger of pneumonia." standing stiffly, the plebe started through the manual of arms. as soon as he had gone once through, with west point precision in every movement, the plebe started in all over again. "now, do this to the stationary marching, mister," added dick gravely, as though prescribing something for the very immediate benefit of the luckless fourth classman. with that, mr. briggs began to "march," though not stirring from the spot on which he was stationed. left, right! left, right! left, right! his feet moved, in the cadence of marching. at the same time the victim was obliged to raise his feet. "bring the feet up higher and more smartly, mister," directed dick. passing the rifle through every movement of the manual of arms, lifting his feet as high as he could, and yet obliged to bring them down noiselessly to the floor, plebe briggs quickly began to drip with perspiration. yet his inquisitors sat by with the judicial gravity of drill sergeants. for ten minutes mr. briggs continued this grotesque work. he knew better than to stop; it would not be wise, even, to send any appealing glances at his inquisitors. "halt!" called prescott softly, at last. briggs stopped, holding himself at attention after he had allowed the butt of the rifle to touch the floor noiselessly. "mister, return mr. furlong's piece." the plebe obeyed, wondering what next was in store for him. prescott noted that mr. briggs's legs were trembling under him. "that is all, for the present, mister," announced the class sergeant. "but you will hold yourself in readiness, in case we call you out for a soiree this evening." "yes, sir," assented the plebe. "you may go." mr. briggs judged that he had better salute the yearling class president very carefully as he passed out with his bucket. this he did, then hastened down the company street. this time, when he had vanished behind his own tent flap, mr. briggs didn't indulge in any grimaces or chuckles. instead, he made haste to get off his dripping garments and to get out others, after he had enjoyed a rub down. "serves me right!" muttered the plebe. "i had been getting along first rate, with nobody bothering me. then i had to get that b.j. streak on this afternoon. now, i suppose i'm a marked plebe!" chapter iii greg debates between girls and mischief "considering that you are the noble class president, who had just made us feel so ashamed over our thoughts of hazing," muttered mr. furlong, "i must say, prescott, that i don't look upon you as any tyro at hazing." "this case was very different," dick answered quietly. "this plebe, briggs, was caught in a very rank piece of b.j.-ety. we couldn't let his offence go by. we hazed him for a straight cause, not merely for being a plebe. what i object to is annoying plebes simply because they are green men." "but what about that soiree you mentioned to the plebe?" demanded griffin eagerly. "i told him only to be ready if called," prescott made reply. "i had no intention of bringing him over for a soiree this evening, unless the plebe does something else raw in the meantime." a "soiree" is an institution of the summer encampment. the plebe who is in for a soiree may be either a man who has committed some direct offence against the upper classmen, or a plebe who has been observed to be simply too b.j. in general. mr. plebe is directed to present himself at the tent of some upper classman. several yearlings are here gathered to receive him. he is taken in hand in no gentle way. he is rebuked, scored "roasted." he is made to feel that he is a disgrace to the united states military academy, and that he never will be a particle of value in the service. mr. plebe is hauled over the coals in a fashion that few civilians could invent or carry out. very likely, on top of all the lecturing, the man will be severely hazed. he is also quite likely, especially if he show impatience, to be called out for a fight. the b.j.-est plebe, after a soiree by capable yearlings, is always afterwards observed to be a very meek plebe. the rain continued so long that not only were afternoon drills escaped, but dress parade as well. it was not, in fact, much before supper time that the rain stopped and the sun came out briefly. but the brief period of relaxation had been appreciated hugely throughout camp. three quarters of the cadets under canvas had found time for at least a two hours' sleep. when the battalion marched back from supper, and was dismissed, the young men turned to for their evening of leisure and pleasure. over at cullum hall there was to be a hop for the evening. not all cadets, however, attend hops at any time. not long after supper many of the cadets began to dress carefully. "going to the hop, old ramrod?" inquired mr. furlong, standing just outside his tent while he fitted a pair of white gloves over his hands. "not to-night," returned dick indifferently. "why, do you know, you haven't shown your face at hop yet?" furlong demanded. "yet when we were under instruction in the plebe class, you turned out to be one of our best dancers." "oh, i'll be in at one of the hops, later on in the summer," responded prescott. "one?" gasped furlong. "oh, you wild, giddy thing! you're going to do better, aren't you, holmesy?" continued furlong, as dick's old chum came out, fitting on a pair of white gloves. "i'm going over and put my head in danger of being punched, i suppose," grinned greg. "i'm going to have the nerve to 'stag it' tonight." the man who "stags it"---that is, does not escort any young woman friend to the hop, must needs dance, if at all, with the girl some other cadet has "dragged." this sometimes causes bad feeling. "i'm going to drag a 'spoony femme' tonight," declared furlong, contentedly. "she's no 'l.p.,' at that." "dragging a femme" is to escort a young woman to the hop. if she be "spoony," that means that she is pretty. but an "l.p." is a poor dancer. "hotel?" inquired greg. "yes," nodded mr. furlong, turning to leave. "miss wilton. i don't believe you've met her. unless she dislikes your looks i may present you to her." "do," begged greg. "i'd enjoy going through a few dreamy numbers." mr. furlong, having permission to go to the hotel for miss wilton, started off, moving at his best soldier's step. after registering at the hotel office, in the book kept for that purpose, as every cadet is required to do, mr. furlong hoped for several minutes of talk with his pretty partner, either in a corner of the parlor, or on the veranda. only the parlor and the veranda are open to cadets having permission to call at the hotel. greg, having no companion to go after, brought out his stool and seated himself beside dick in front of the tent. "why don't you go over to the hop tonight, dick?" greg asked. "mainly because i don't wish to," replied prescott, with a smile. "granted. but i am rather wondering why you don't wish to." "i think you can keep a secret, greg," replied his old gridley chum, looking quizzically at holmes. "greg, i'm too awfully lonesome to trust myself at the hop tonight. "eh? why, old ramrod, the hop ought to be the very place to lose that lonesome feeling." "just what i'm afraid of," responded prescott. "you---eh---huh! you're talking riddles now. "greg, a cadet can't marry. or, if he does, his marriage acts as an automatic resignation, and he's dropped from the cadet corps." "i know all that," holmes assented. "now, here at west point, with this nearly male-convent life, a fellow often gets so blamed lonesome that almost any girl looks fine to him, greg. first thing he knows, a cadet, being a natural gallant, anyway, goes so far in being spoons with some girl that he has to act like a gentleman, then, and declare intentions. a fellow can't show a nice girl a whole lot of spoony attentions, and then back off, letting the girl discover that he has been only fooling all summer. you've heard, greg, of plenty of cadets who have engaged themselves while here at the academy." "yes," nodded greg. "there's no regulation against a cadet becoming engaged to a girl. the regulation only forbids him to marry while he's a cadet." "now, a fellow like one of us either goes so far, in his lonesomeness, that he's grateful to a bright girl for cheering him and imagines he's in love with her; or else he finds that the girl thought he was in love with her, and she expects him to propose. greg, i don't want to make any mistakes that way. it's easy for a cadet to capture the average girl's heart; it's his uniform, i suppose, for women always have been weak when uniforms enveloped fellows who otherwise wouldn't attract their notice. greg, i wonder how many cadets have been lonesome enough to propose to some girl, and afterwards find out it was all a mistake? and how many girls fall in love with the uniform, thinking all the while that it's the fellow in the uniform? how many cadets and girls recover from the delusion only in after years when it's too late. i tell you, greg, when a fellow gets into this cadet life, i think the practice of going too often to a hop may be dangerous for cadets and girls alike! "i'll get cold feet if i listen to you long," laughed yearling holmes grimly. "i wonder if i'd better pull these gloves off and stay where i am?" "i didn't have any idea of seeking to persuade you," dick replied. "if you feel proof against the danger, run right over to cullum and enjoy yourself." "i was just thinking," mused greg, "of a promise you and dave darrin made some girls back in gridley." "i remember that promise," nodded dick. "you and darrin promised laura bentley and belle meade that you'd each invite them to hops, you to west point and dave to annapolis, just as soon as either one of you had a right to attend hops." "i know," nodded prescott. greg was silent. after a few moments dick ventured: "greg, i kept that promise the day we moved into encampment---the first day that i was a yearling." "oh! are laura and belle coming on west point soon?" holmes asked eagerly. "i don't know. i'll be mighty glad when i do know. but undoubtedly darrin has invited them to annapolis, too. now, it may be that, even if the girls can get away to travel a bit, they can't go to west point and to annapolis in the same season. so the girls may be trying to make up their minds---which." "i hope they come here," murmured holmes fervently. "so do i," prescott replied promptly. "dick---do you---mind if i ask a question," demanded greg slowly. "no," smiled dick, "for i think i know what it is." "are you---is laura---i mean-----" "you wonder whether laura and i had any understanding before i left gridley? that's what you want to know?" "that is what i was wondering." "there is no understanding between us--not the least," prescott replied. "i don't know whether laura would consent to one, now or later. i don't know myself yet, either, greg. i want to wait until i have grown some in mind. laura bentley is such a magnificent girl that it would be a crime to make any mistake either as to her feelings or mine." "do you think good old dave and belle meade had any understanding before dave left gridley?" "dave went away after we did," prescott answered. "so i can't be sure. but i don't believe dave and belle are pledged in any way." "funny game, the whole thing!" sighed greg, rising. he had drawn off one of his white lisle-thread gloves, but now he was engaged in putting it on again. "confidence deserves to be paid in the same coin, greg," warned his chum. "did you leave any girl---back in gridley---or elsewhere." "dick, old ramrod," replied cadet holmes, frankly, as he finished drawing on his glove, "i'm unpledged, and, to the best of my belief, i'm wholly heart free." "look out that you keep so for two or three years more, then," laughed dick, and holmes, nodding lightly, strode away. despite the hop, there were some visitors in camp that evening. dick was presently invited over to join a group that was entertaining three college boys who had dropped off at west point for two or three days. greg spent an hour or so at the hop. he was introduced to miss wilton, a pretty, black-eyed little girl, and danced one number with her. he presently secured another partner. but too many of the cadets were "stagging it" that night. there were not feminine partners enough to go around. "my cue is to cut out, i guess," mused greg, finding himself near the entrance to the ballroom. once outside, greg drew off his gloves, thrusting them in under the breast of his gray uniform coat. he wasn't quite decided whether to go back to cullum later. but at present he wanted to stroll in the dark and to think. "i reckon i'll take dick's line of philosophy, and cut girls a good deal," decided greg. "yet, at west point in the summer, it's either girls or mischief. mischief, if carried too far, gets a fellow bounced out of the academy, while girls---i wonder which is safer?" still guessing, cadet holmes wandered a good way from cullum hall, and was not again seen that night on the polished dancing floor. * * * * * * * * anstey had gone visiting some other yearlings. dick, after leaving the college boys and their hosts, felt that a slow stroll outside of camp would be one of the pleasantest ways of passing the time until taps at 10.30. even after the rain, the night was close and sultry. "don't you sing, prescott?" called a first classman as dick passed near the head of the color line. "some of our glee-club fellows are getting together to try some old home songs." but dick shook his head. though he possessed a fair voice, the singing of sentimental or mournful ditties was not in his line that night. he heard the strumming of guitars and mandolins as he left camp behind. dick did not hurry, even to get away from the music. he kept on up the road, and by the hotel, but was careful not to enter the grounds, though three or four yearlings called gayly to him from the hotel veranda. he had no permission for tonight to visit the hotel. "i'm not going to get into a row with the k.c. for a stupid little violation like that," he muttered. presently dick's stroll took him over in the neighborhood of "execution hollow," the depression in the ground below where the reveille gun is stationed. suddenly dick halted, an amused look creeping into his face. "now, who'd suspect good old greg of getting into sheer mischief, all by himself?" the class president asked himself. for holmes was bending a bit low, a hundred yards or so away, and stealing toward the fieldpiece that does duty as reveille gun. "it would be a shame to bet on what greg's up to---it would be too easy!" muttered prescott, standing behind a flowering bush at the road's edge. "greg is going to load the reveille gun, attach a long line to the firing cord, and rig it across the path here, so that some 'dragger,' coming back from seeing his 'femme' home, will trip over the cord and fire the gun. the dragger can't be blamed for what he didn't do on purpose, and cute little greg will be safe in his tent. but if greg should happen to be caught it might mean the bounce from the academy! and, oh, wow!" cadet prescott's heart seemed to stop beating. glancing down the road he saw a man standing, there, in the olive drab uniform of the army officer. captain bates, of the tactical department, was quietly watching unsuspecting cadet holmes. chapter iv the o.c. wants to know as has been said, cadet prescott felt as though his heart had stopped beating. in another instant mischievous cadet holmes would actually be slipping a shell into the reveille gun, if it were not already loaded, and then attaching a cord, to lay a trap for some other unsuspicious cadet. captain bates, who was quietly looking on, would have mr. holmes red handed. charges would be preferred. undoubtedly greg would soon be journeying homeward, his dream of the army over. dick could not call out and warn greg. that would be a breach of discipline that would recoil surely upon mr. prescott's head, making him equally guilty with his chum. yet, to see greg walk unsuspectingly into the "tac.'s" hands in this fashion! it was not to be thought of. for two or three seconds all manner thoughts played through dick's mind. but, no matter what happened to him, loyalty would not allow him to stand by a mere mute spectator of greg's downfall. prescott felt sure that he himself had not yet been seen by the army officer. slipping out from behind the bush, cadet prescott stepped briskly along the path, bringing one hand sharply to his cap in salute. "captain bates, have i your permission to speak, sir?" dick prescott's voice, though not unduly loud, carried like a pistol shot to greg's alert ears. young mr. holmes did not immediately change his course, start or do anything else that would betray alarm. yet, ere captain bates's voice could be heard in reply, greg had swung slowly around, and he came toward the path. "permission is granted, mr. prescott," replied captain bates---but, oh, how coldly he spoke. the army officer seemed trying to look mr. prescott through and through, for bates thoroughly suspected dick of a bold stroke to save his friend from watchful tac. eyes. "there was a question that came up among some of the yearlings in camp today, sir," dick went on, very respectfully. "i found myself ignorant, as were some of the others, as to the correct answer to the question. as you are the officer in charge of the encampment, i have made bold, sir, to ask you the answer." "is it a matter relating directly to military tactics or discipline, mr. prescott?" asked captain bates, speaking as coldly as before. "indirectly, sir, i think." "then state the question, mr. prescott." greg, having reached the path, halted at attention several yards away from his bunkie. "the question that came up, sir," continued dick, and he was speaking the truth, for the question had been discussed, "is whether there is any regulation, or any tacit rule that requires a cadet of the upper classes to attend any stated number of hops in the season, or during the year? "no cadet, mr. prescott, is required to attend any hop unless he so elects. the single exception would be that any cadet, having once made an engagement to attend a hop, would be bound by his word to attend, unless he had received proper release from that engagement. such release, in nearly all instances, would come from the young woman whom the cadet had invited to attend a hop with him." "thank you, sir." again dick saluted very respectfully. "any other questions, mr. prescott?" "no, sir." dick saluted carefully. captain bates returned the salute, and turned to go. cadet holmes, waiting until he found himself once more in range of the tactical officer's vision, raised his hand to his cap in very correct salute. this salute, also, captain bates returned, and then strode on toward camp. "you came near missing me, holmesy," dick remarked carelessly and in a low voice, though he felt very certain that his tone overtook the departing tac. in silence, at first, greg and dick turned and walked in the opposite direction together. "going to load the signal gun, eh, greg!" chaffed prescott. "yes," confessed white-faced holmes, a quiver in his voice. "it's a childish sport, and a dangerous one. better leave it to the fellows who are tired of being at west point," advised dick quietly. "oh, what a debt i owe you, old ramrod!" cried greg fervently. "not a shadow of a debt, greg. you'd have done just the same thing for me." "yes, if i could have been quick enough to think of it. but i probably wouldn't have figured it out as swiftly as you did." "yes, you would," dick retorted grimly, "for it was the only way. what's that bulging out the front of your coat, greg?" "the cord," greg confessed, with a sheepish grin. "better get rid of it right where you are. even a fishline is rope enough to hang a cadet when he gets into trouble too close to the reveille gun." greg had barely tossed away the coil of cord when----bang! bang! bang! bang! bang! bang! the fusillade ripped out within a hundred yards of where they now stood. dick and greg halted in amazement. they did not start, or jump, for the soldier habit was too firmly fixed with them. but they were astounded. as they stood there, staring, more explosions ripped out on the night air, over by battle monument. cadets prescott and holmes could see the flashes, also, close down near the ground, as though an infantry firing squad were lying prostrate and firing at will. bang! bang! bang! the fusillade continued. behind the two cadets sounded running footsteps. "hadn't we better duck?" demanded greg. "no; it would look bad. we had no hand in this, and we can stick to our word." over at camp, orders were ringing out. though the two cadets near battle monument heard indistinctly, they knew it was the call for the cadet guard. now the nearest runner passed them. it was captain bates, on a dead run, and, as bates was not much past thirty, and an athlete, he was getting over the ground fast. as he passed, bates, without slackening speed, took dick and greg in with one swift glance. back in gridley dick and greg certainly would have dashed onward to the scene of the excitement. as young soldiers, they knew better. their presence over by battle monument had not been officially requested. yet, as it was not time for taps, the cadets could and did stand where they were. two different armed forces were now moving swiftly forward to reinforce the o.c., as the officer in charge is termed. two policemen of the quartermaster's department---enlisted men of the army, armed on with revolvers in holsters---ran over from the neighborhood of the nearest officers' quarters. cadet corporal haynes and the relief of the guard, moving at double quick, passed dick and greg on the path. "some fellows touched off firecrackers," whispered greg to his chum. "number one cannon crackers," guessed prescott. they could see captain bates take a dark lantern from one of the quartermaster's police detail, and scan the ground closely all around where the cannon crackers had been discharged. "nothing more doing," muttered yearling prescott. "we may as well be going back to camp, greg. but we'll lose a heap of that six hours and a half of sleep tonight." "think so?" demanded holmes moodily. "know it. the tac. saw us twice on this path, and he has us marked. the o.c. and the k.c. (commandant of cadets) will hold their own kind of court of inquiry tonight, and you and i are going to be grilled brown." "we didn't set the cannon crackers off; we didn't see anyone around the monument, and we don't know anything about it." "all true," nodded dick. "but we'll have to say it in all the different styles of good english that we can think of." dick and greg reached the encampment, and passed inside the limits, just before they heard the guard marching back. then all was ominously quiet over at the tent of the o.c., captain bates. tattoo had gone some time ago. now the alarm clock told the bunkies that they had just three minutes in which to get undressed and be in bed before taps sounded on the drum. "it's a shame, too," muttered dick in an undertone. "we won't be any more than on the blanket before the summons from the o.c. will arrive." "here it comes, now," whispered greg, nudging his bunkie. but it was anstey, their tentmate, hastening to be undressed in time against taps. "what was the row?" asked the virginian. "cannon crackers over at battle monument," replied dick. "we were over there at the time." "you were?" asked anstey quietly, but shooting at them a look of amused suspicion. so many cadets were now seeking their tents that our three bunkies did not notice that one footstep ceased before their door, for a moment, then passed on. the man outside was bert dodge, also of the dodge was a former gridley high school boy and a bitter enemy of dick's. the origin of that enmity was thoroughly told in the _high school boys series_. during the plebe year dodge, who was a fellow of little honor or principle had done his best to involve prescott in serious trouble with the military academy authorities, but had failed. dodge, however, had succeeded in escaping detection, and had succeeded in passing on from the plebe to the yearling class. anstey, however, who had been dodge's roommate in the plebe year, was firmly resolved that he would not be roommate to dodge when they returned to cadet barracks the next year. dodge hated all three of the bunkies in this tent, but dick prescott he hated more than the other two combined. "yes; we were near the spot," dick said, answering anstey's question. "but we didn't set off the crackers, or have anything to do with the matter. we don't even know, or have a guess, as to who the offenders were." though dodge knew, in his soul, that he could believe prescott, it was with an evil smile that bert now hastened on, gaining his own tent. taps sounded, and fifteen minutes more went by. it began to look as though the battle monument affair would be allowed to go by until morning. greg was asleep, and dick was just dozing off, when there came a sharp step in the company street. the step had an official sound to it. that step halted, suddenly, before the door of the tent of our three bunkies. "by order of the commandant of cadets," sounded the voice of cadet corporal haynes. "mr. prescott and mr. holmes will turn out with all due speed, and report at the office of the officer in charge." "yes, sir," acknowledged prescott, and nudged drowsy, half-awake greg. "yes, sir," replied holmes. dick leaped up, lighting the candle. then he gave a slight kick that was enough to bring holmes apart from his blanket. hastily, though with soldierly neatness, the two yearlings dressed themselves, then stepped out into the night, prepared to face the rapid-fire gun of official curiosity. chapter v "i respectfully decline to answer, sir." "mr. prescott reports, sir." "mr. holmes reports, sir." saluting, the two yearlings stepped into the tent of the o.c., then halted at attention. two officers returned their salutes. captain bates sat at his desk. lieutenant colonel strong, commandant of cadets, sat back in lower chair at the right of captain bates's desk. "mr. prescott," began captain bates, transfixing the yearling with his burning eyes, "you and mr. holmes were close to battle monument when the firecrackers were discharged there this evening. "yes, sir," dick admitted. "what do you know about the affair?" "only this, sir: that, after passing you, we walked along the same path until we turned in not far from the monument. we were walking toward it when we heard the discharges, and saw the flashes." "had you been nearer to the monument at any time through the evening, mr. prescott?" "no, sir." dick answered with great promptness. "mr. prescott, have you sufficiently considered my question and your reply?" "yes, sir." "i will put a question of another kind. did you see, do you know, or have you any knowledge of any kind, of those who placed the firecrackers by the monument, or who set them off?" "absolutely no knowledge, sir, on any point you mention," dick rejoined promptly. "did you have any knowledge that such a breach of discipline was being planned." "i did not, sir." "mr. prescott!" it was colonel strong who spoke. dick wheeled about, saluted, then stood at attention. "a serious offence against military discipline has been committed at battle monument tonight. have you any knowledge about the matter which, if in our possession, would aid in any way in clearing up the mystery surrounding this offence? "i have absolutely no knowledge of any form, sir, except that, as i stated, while mr. holmes and i were walking toward the monument, we heard the reports and saw the flashes." "you realize the full import of your statement, mr. prescott?" pressed the k.c. "i do, sir." "then, on your honor as a cadet and a gentleman, you declare that your statement is true?" "i do, sir," cadet prescott replied. the pledge he had just given is the most solemn that is exacted of a united states military cadet. usually, the cadet's plain word is accepted as ample, for the sense of faith and honor is paramount at west point. a cadet detected in a lie would be forced out of the cadet corps by the ostracism of his own comrades. "that is all, for the present, mr. prescott." dick respectfully saluted the k.c., then the o.c., next wheeled and marched out of the tent, going straight to his own tent. prescott would gladly have remained, but he had been dismissed. it was twenty minutes later when greg crept back into the tent and began to undress. "how about it?" whispered prescott. "i was asked more questions, but all of the same import," holmes answered in a whisper. "did the o.c. make you tell on yourself, about being over by the reveille gun?" "no; i thought some of his questions led that way, but my other answers stopped him in that line. as a last resort i would respectfully have declined to say anything to incriminate myself." as was afterwards learned, dick and greg were the only witnesses examined that night. captain bates had followed the only trail at which he could guess, and had learned nothing. * * * * * * * * "mr. prescott and mr. holmes both have the usual excellent reputation of cadets for truthfulness, haven't they, captain?" asked colonel strong. "yes, colonel." "then i am afraid we shall get no further in this investigation." "unless, sir, my questions were so badly put as to give them a chance of shielding themselves without giving untruthful answers. i shall sleep on this matter tonight, colonel. i don't want these young men to think they can put such an easy one right over my head." "i wish you luck, bates. but i'm afraid you've shot off your only round of ammunition, and have found it a blank charge. good night." "good night, sir." "mr. prescott was clever enough to prevent my pouncing on mr. holmes at the reveille gun tonight," mused the o.c. "i can hardly suspect mr. prescott of untruthfulness, but i wonder whether he has been clever enough to baffle me in this monument affair, without telling an absolute untruth?" for nearly a half an hour the o.c. lay awake, reviewing the method he had followed in questioning cadet prescott. in the morning, after breakfast, there were a few minutes of leisure in camp before the squads or platoons marched away for the first drills. "you were on the grill, last night, old ramrod?" asked furlong, in a chuckling whisper. "yes," dick nodded. "you couldn't tell anything?" "i knew less than nothing to tell." "you didn't see us, last night, as we slipped away from the monu-----" "shut up, you sun-scorched idiot!" cried prescott sharply, under his breath. "i don't want to know anything about it now." "oh, that's all right, i suppose," said mr. furlong, looking furtively towards bert dodge, who was standing some distance off. the very thought that he was now practically certain, morally, at least, who one of the perpetrators of the monument affair was, made dick uneasy. he knew there was still a danger that he and greg might be summoned again to the tent of the o.c. bert dodge saw, from a distance, the whispered talk between dick and mr. furlong; he also saw the latter's quick, stealthy glance. now, dodge, from having tried to visit furlong the night before, knew that the young man had returned from the hop, for he had seen furlong go into his tent shortly after ten. dodge also knew that furlong had been absent from camp at the time of the monument discharges. "furlong is one of the offenders," thought bert, "and prescott is roasting him about it. i suppose our highly conceited class president thinks it his place to lecture all the jokers in the class. but how would it be possible, without getting myself into trouble, to pass on the hint that prescott knows more than he is telling?" it didn't take a fellow with all of cadet dodge's natural meanness very long to invent a plan that looked feasible. sauntering along near the guard tent, dodge encountered a classmate with whom he was on fairly good terms, mr. harper, who was waiting to fall in when the next relief of the guard was called. "prescott was on the grill last night, i hear," began bert. "so i hear," nodded harper. "i guess he dodged the o.c. cold," chuckled dodge. "he denied any knowledge of the monument business, i've heard," replied harper. bert chuckled. "that sounds like old prescott," laughed bert. "and i'll bet he managed it without telling any lies. i know prescott of old. our family once lived in the same town with him, you know. prescott was one of the biggest jokers in our high school. and he never got caught in those days. prescott was always the artful dodger." "what do you mean by that!" asked harper. "you don't mean that prescott is untruthful." "oh, no, not at all," laughed bert. "but, if i could put him on the rack, and get the whole thing, unreservedly, out of richard prescott, i'd be willing to bet, in advance, that he knows just who set off the cannon crackers last night." dodge was careful not to speak so that he could be overheard by prescott or furlong, yet he was certain that, on the still morning air around the guard tent, his voice was carrying sufficiently to penetrate to the other side of the khaki walls of the o.c.'s tent. "prescott is the clever one, and the loyal one to all but tacs.," laughed bert to harper, as he strolled away. dodge hoped that the o.c. was in his tent. it is true---captain bates was there. having drawn the flap, and being in the act of enjoying his morning newspaper, the o.c. heard. "hang it, i felt last night that, while answering me truthfully, mr. prescott was proving the possession of sufficient cleverness to keep me off the monument trail, just as he foiled my catching mr. holmes," mused the o.c. "and i said as much last night to colonel strong." at that moment the flap of the tent was lifted and the k.c. returned the salute of his subordinate, who had promptly leaped to his feet. in a few swift, low words, captain bates repeated the conversation he had just overheard. "that bears out what you thought last night, bates," rejoined the k.c. "i think there is nothing for it but to have mr. prescott in here and put him on the wheel again. rack him, bates!" "i've just time, colonel to catch mr. prescott before the drill squads go out. corporal of the guard!" hailed the o.c., looking out from his tent. in another moment a very erect young member of the guard was striding around the head of the encampment, and then down one of the company streets. dick, in front of his tent, in field uniform, received the summons and responded at once. "caught him!" quivered bert dodge. "no if that infernal humbug will get hot-headed and answer the o.c. rashly, there may be something good coming in the punishment line! it would be a source of wild joy if i could get dick prescott on the wrong flank with the tacs.!" the instant that dick reported, and found himself in the presence of his two inquisitors of the night before, he knew that some hint of his new knowledge must have reached the tactical department. "mr. prescott, last night," began captain bates, "you denied absolutely having any knowledge as to the persons who set off firecrackers near battle monument." "yes, sir." "i have since gained good reason to think," went on the o.c., "that you know who at least one of the perpetrators was." mr. prescott remained silent. "why do you not reply, mr. prescott?" "i didn't understand, sir, that you had asked me a question." captain bates flushed. he hadn't asked a question, in question form, and he saw how neatly this cadet had "caught" him. but that only served to increase the suspicion of both officers present that mr. prescott was a very clever witness who was successfully contriving to keep something back. "mr. prescott, do you now know who was responsible for the monument affair of last night?" insisted the o.c. "i don't know sir," replied dick, putting all proper emphasis on the word. "yet you suspect?" "i suspect one man, sir," dick responded without attempt at concealment. "is the one you suspect a cadet?" "yes, sir." "his name?" broke in lieutenant colonel strong. dick prescott whitened a bit. he knew the chances he was taking now, but he replied, in a clear, steady voice: "i very respectfully decline to answer, sir!" chapter vi greg prepares for flirtation walk "for what reason, sir?" demanded the k.c. sharply. prescott opened his mouth, closed it again, without speaking, then at last asked slowly: "sir, may i state my reasons in my own way?" "proceed, mr. prescott." "my suspicion concerning a certain man, sir, does not cover a really direct suspicion that he had a hand in the affair. his remark led me only to infer that the man was present." "that does not tell me, mr. prescott, why you have refused to answer the question that i put to you," insisted colonel strong. "my reason, sir, for respectfully declining to answer is twofold: first, i do not know whether i am legally required to state a suspicion only. my second reason, sir, is that to state the name of the man i suspect would make me, in my own eyes, and in the eyes of my comrades, a tale-bearer." since the k.c. had started this line of questioning, captain bates remained silent. so, too, did the k.c. for some moments after dick had finished. it was the first problem that faced the tactical officers---much harder one than it would considered in civilian life. in the first place, it is one of the highest west point ideals never to treat a cadet with even a trace of injustice. the young man who is being trained to be an officer, and who will, in time, be placed over other men, above all must be just. in no other way can the cadet learn as much about justice as by being treated with it. as is the case with an accused man in the civil courts, no cadet may be forced to testify in way that would incriminate himself. when it comes to testifying against another the question has two aspects. the tale-bearer, the informer, is not appreciated in the military world. he is loathed there, as in civil life. yet the refusal of one cadet to testify against another might be carried, insolently, to the point of insubordination. so, when a cadet, under questioning, refuses to give evidence incriminating another cadet, his reason may be accepted; or, if it appear best to the military authorities, he may be warned that his reason is not sufficient, and then, if he still refuses to answer, he may be proceeded against as for disobedience of orders. it is a fine point. the k.c. found it so at this moment. dick prescott stood rigidly at attention, a fine, soldierly looking young fellow. his face, his eyes, had all the stamp of truth and manliness. yet the suspicion had arisen with these two tacs. that mr. prescott was a young man who was extremely clever in giving truthful answers that shielded offending cadets. "you have stated your position unreservedly and exactly, mr. prescott?" inquired colonel strong at last. "yes, sir." "you are certain that you have not more than the merest suspicion of the cadet off whom you have been speaking? "i am absolutely certain, sir." "how does it happen, mr. prescott, that you have this suspicion, and absolutely nothing more?" a cadet is not permitted to hesitate. he must answer not only truthfully, but instantly. so dick looked the k.c. full in the eyes as answered: "a cadet, sir, started to say something, and i shut him up." "because you did not wish to know more?" "yes, sir," prescott admitted honestly. captain bates fidgeted almost imperceptibly; in other words, as much as a military man may. there were a few questions that he wanted to ask this cadet. but it was bates's superior officer who was now doing the questioning. the k.c. remained silent for perhaps half a minute. then he said: "that is all, at present, mr. prescott." saluting the k.c., dick next made a slight turn which brought him facing captain bates, whom he also saluted. both officers returned his salute. dick wheeled and marched from the tent. as he passed through the camp the cadet face had in it a soldierly inexpressiveness. even bert dodge, who covertly scanned prescott from a distance, could not guess the outcome of the "grilling." "may i ask, colonel, weather you agree with my opinion of mr. prescott?" inquired captain bates. "your idea that he is an artful dodger?" "yes, sir." "if he is," replied lieutenant colonel strong, "then the young man is so very straightforwardly artful that he is likely to give us a mountain of mischief to handle before he is brought to book." "if i can catch him at anything by fair means," ventured captain bates, "then i am going to do it." "you are suspicious of mr. prescott?" "why, i like the young man thoroughly, sir; but i believe that, if we do not find a means of curbing him, this summer's encampment will be a season of unusual mischief and sly insubordination." perhaps there was something of a twinkle in colonel strong's eye as he rose to leave the tent. "if you do catch mr. prescott, bates, i shall be interested in knowing the particulars promptly." dick returned to his tent to find his bunkies gone to drills. the summons before the o.c. had relieved prescott from the first period of drill. on dick's wardrobe box lay two letters that the mail orderly had left for him. both bore the gridley postmark. the home-hungry cadet pounced upon both of them, seating himself and examining the handwriting of the addresses. one letter was from his mother. cadet prescott opened that first. it was a lengthy letter. the young man ran through the pages hurriedly, to make sure that all was well with his parents. now dick held up the other letter. this also was addressed in a feminine hand---as most of a cadet's mail is. it was a small, square envelope, without crest or monogram, but the paper and cut were scrupulously good and fine. it was the kind of stationery that would be used by girl brought up in a home of refined surroundings. dick broke the seal with a consciousness of a little thrill that he had not felt in opening his mother's letter. dick did not have to look for the signature; he knew the penmanship. "my dear mr. prescott," began the letter. ("hm!" muttered the reader. "it used to be 'dick'") "your note came as a delightfully pleasant surprise," dick read on ("now, i wonder why it should have been a surprise? great scott! now, i come to think of it, i hadn't written her before since last february!") "of course we are going to drop all other plans for a flying visit to west point," the letter ran on. "belle is simply delighted with the idea. she has heard from mr. darrin, but he suggests september as the best time for us to visit annapolis. so mother will bring belle and myself to west point. we can spend two or three days there. we shall arrive late on the afternoon on-----" as dick read the date, he gave a start. "why, they'll be here tomorrow afternoon," throbbed prescott. then and there prescott stood up in the low-ceilinged tent and tossed his campaign hat up to the ridgepole. that piece of headgear didn't have far to travel, but dick accompanied it with an "hurrah!" uttered almost under his breath. "won't greg be the tickled boy!" murmured prescott; joyously. "some one from home---and folks that we both like!" presently some of the drill squads returned to camp. greg and anstey came in, warm and curious. "did you get into any trouble with the o.c., old ramrod?" questioned anstey in his soft voice. "i don't believe i did," dick answered. anstey nodded his congratulations. "greg, old fellow, guess what's going to happen soon?" demanded prescott. "i'd rather you'd tell me." "folks from home! mrs. bentley, laura and belle meade will be here late tomorrow afternoon! "great!" admitted cadet holmes, but to dick's ear his chum's enthusiasm seemed perfunctory. "we'll drag femmes to the hop tomorrow night, eh, greg?" "anything on earth that you say, old ramrod," agreed holmes placidly, then stepped out of his tent to visit across the way. "spoony femmes?" inquired anstey. "spooniest ever!" dick declared. "l.p.?" "not on your coming shoulder-straps!" retorted prescott, an eager look in his eyes. "and say, anstey, you're going to the hop tomorrow night, aren't you? "hadn't thought so," replied the other quietly. "anything else on?" "nothing particular." "then be at the hop, anstey, old bunkie--do! i want you to meet both the young ladies, and dance at least a couple of numbers with each." "i reckon i'd go through fire or water for you, or holmesy," murmured the virginian quietly. "oh, it isn't going to be anything like such an ordeal as that," laughed dick happily. "just wait until you've seen the young ladies. that's all!" "as they-----" anstey paused. then he went on, after considering: "as they come from home, old ramrod, i should think you and holmesy would want them all to yourselves." "but don't you understand, you uncivilized being," demanded dick, chuckling, "that we can't dance all the numbers with the girls? it would be a slight on the girls if only two men wanted to dance with them. besides, we want to show them all that's best about west point. we want them to meet as many as possible the very best fellows that are here." "my deepest thanks, suh, for the compliment," replied anstey, with a deep bow. "well, that describes you, doesn't it?" demanded dick. "we want these girls to carry away with them the finest impression possible of good old west point!" when evening came, and prescott and holmes strolled through camp, listening to the band concert, dick wanted to talk all the time about the coming visit of the girls. greg answered, though it struck his chum that holmes was merely politely enthusiastic. "say, dick," whispered greg presently, with far greater enthusiasm than he had been displaying, "look at that black-eyed, perfectly tinted little doll that is walking with griffin! "stroll around and meet them face to face presently, then," grinned dick. "griff won't mind." "the deuce he won't" growled greg. "i'd have a scrap on my hands, besides being voted a butter-in." "try it," advised prescott, giving his chum a little shove. "i tell you, griff won't mind. her name is griffin, too. she's his sister." a moment later prescott turned and tried to gulp down a great chuckle. for greg, without another word, had left him, and now was strolling along with an air of slight absorption, yet his course was so managed as to bring mr. holmes face to face with griffin. at least a dozen other gray and white-clad young men were also to be observed manoeuvring so as to meet griffin casually. thus it happened that greg was but one of a group. observing this, holmes increased his stride. "hullo, holmesy!" cried griffin, with great cordiality. "glad to encounter you. i've just been telling my sister about some of the best fellows. della, i present mr. holmes. mr. holmes, my sister!" greg lifted his cap in the most polished manner that he had been able to acquire at west point, while a dozen other men scowled at griffin, who appeared not to see them. miss adele griffin was presently chatting most animatedly about her new impressions of west point and the united states military academy. "holmesy, you know so much more about things than i do," pleaded griffin sweetly, "just be good to dell for an hour, won't you? you're one of the best-informed men here. now, mind you, dell! no fun at mr. holmes's expense. look out for her, holmesy!" with that griffin "slid away" as gracefully and neatly as though he hadn't been planning to do it all along. "your brother has always been mighty pleasant to me, but he never was as downright good before," murmured greg, looking down into the big black eyes that glanced laughingly up into is face. "oh, if you are ordinarily observant," laughed miss griffin, "just keep your eyes on a level, and you'll be able, in five minutes, to understand why he is so good to you in the present instance." nevertheless, it was fully ten minutes before they met griff again. that young man was talking, with all animation, to a tall, rather stately blonde young lady. "my brother," remarked miss griffin, "is good boy, but he is calculating, even in his goodness. "i don't like to hear a word said against griff," protested greg, "for i feel that i'm under the greatest obligation of my life to him." miss griffin laughed easily, but she glanced up challengingly into the eyes of her tall escort. miss griffin had heard of the gallantries of west point's men, and didn't propose to be caught. "you must find the cadets a good deal below your expectations?" remarked mr. holmes inquiringly. "no; they're a wholly charming lot," replied the girl. "oh, that word 'lot' simply escaped me. yet it does seem rather apt. don't you think, mr. holmes, that the wearing of identical uniforms gives the young men rather the look of a 'lot'?" greg felt just a bit crestfallen, but he wasn't going to show it. "why, i don't know," he replied slowly. "some of the young ladies who come here seem able to distinguish units in the lot." "differences in height, and variations in the color of hair and eyes? is that it?" asked miss griffin, with an air of mild curiosity. "why, perhaps we're like chinamen?" laughed greg good-naturedly. "pig-tailed and blue-bloused chinese all look alike at first glance. gradually, however, one is able to note individual peculiarities of appearance." "yes, i guess that's it, mr. holmes," replied the girl musingly. "now, i won't ask you to tax yourself unpleasantly in distinguishing one cadet from another," greg went on bravely. "but i am hoping, with all my heart, that you'll know me the next time you meet me." "i can tell you how to make certain," responded miss griffin demurely. "then i shall be your debtor for life!" "wear a red carnation in your blouse, and carry a white handkerchief in your left hand." "you're cruel," sighed greg. "why?" demanded miss griffin. "both tests that you suggest are against cadet regulations. let me suggest a better test?" "if you can?" challenged miss griffin. the band, at this moment, was playing a strauss waltz. the young people had strolled just a bit beyond the encampment, and now greg compelled a halt under the added shadow of a big tree. "the test i long to suggest," replied greg, "is so exacting that i hesitate to ask it." "my curiosity is aroused," complained miss griffin. "i had it in mind to ask you to look up into my face until you are certain that you will recognize it again." "mercy!" gasped the black-eyed beauty. "i knew i was presumptuous and inconsiderate," admitted greg meekly. none the less, miss griffin laughed and stood looking coyly up into mr. holmes's face. but at last, feeling absurd, miss griffin shifted her glance. "i knew i was asking too much," remarked greg in a tone of resignation. "you couldn't stand it, could you?" laughing merrily, miss griffin turned her look upward again, meeting greg holmes's gray eyes. then, after a few moments, she remarked thoughtfully: "my brother was over-solicitous in fearing that i would embarrass you in the least." "are you going to be at the hop tomorrow night?" greg asked. "i---would like to." "can it be possible," queried mr. holmes, "that i am so fortunate as to be discreet in asking whether i may escort you there?" "if you care to be so charitable, mr. holmes." greg had a moment's uneasy impulse to seize her hand by way of answer. fortunately, he restrained himself. "if i call for you at the hotel tomorrow evening, miss griffin, may i hope that you will recognize me?" he challenged. "i will take another look and make sure," she laughed softly, glancing up archly into greg's face. as the concert drew to a close greg had to make a decent show of trying to find griffin, and he succeeded. griffin was still with the tall blonde. griffin had permission to go to the hotel, and greg didn't. so greg strolled with miss griffin until near the hotel grounds. then he bade her a cordial good night, and griff escorted both "femmes" to the hotel. "what do you think of holmesy?" asked griffin of his sister. "he's quite agreeable," replied adele griffin. "very soldierly, if i am any judge. i wonder how he will look in a second lieutenant's uniform?" as our three bunkies prepared for bed that night prescott remarked: "tomorrow, greg, we'll see the folks from home! i hope you'll do nothing, though, to make dave darrin dislike you." "i won't," promised greg solemnly. then: "oh, great---jove! i've-----" "well?" demanded dick. "what have you done? "i've asked another femme to accept my drag to-morrow night! "miss griffin?" "yes!" "anstey," continued dick, turning quickly to hide a frown, "i shall have to draft you!" "i was bo'n and reared a gentleman, suh!" replied the virginian, with cordial gravity. chapter vii the folks from home two tall, superbly erect young men, showing the soldier in every line of bearing, stepped jauntily along the road leading to the hotel just before five o'clock. each wore the fatigue cap of the cadet, the trim gray, black-trimmed blouse of the cadet uniform. their white duck trousers were the spooniest as to spotlessness and crease. dick and greg went straight to the hotel office. "the register, please," asked prescott, for the clerk's back was turned over some work that he was doing. this was not a request for the hotel register but for the cadet register. understanding, the clerk turned and passed a small book known as the cadet register. he opened it to the page for the day, while prescott was reaching for a pen. in this register both young men inscribed their names. each had secured permission from the o.c. to visit the hotel. at the close of every day, a transcript of the day's signatures by cadets is taken, and this transcript goes to the o.c. the clerk will send no cards for cadets who have not first registered. the transcript of registry, which goes to the o.c., enables the latter to make sure that no cadets have visited the hotel without permission. prescott laid down his visiting card. holmes laid another beside it. "are mrs. bentley, miss bentley and miss meade here?" queried dick. after consulting the hotel register the clerk nodded. "our cards to mrs. bentley, please." "front! fifty-seven!" called the clerk to a bellboy. "thank you," acknowledged prescott. "wheeling, the young men turned from the office, striding down the hotel veranda side by side. they turned in at the ladies' entrance, then, caps in hand, stood waiting in the corridor. it is a rule that a cadet must enter no part of the hotel except the parlor. he must see his friends either there, or on the veranda. there is a story told that a general officer's wife visited west point, for the first time, to see her son, a new cadet at west point. the plebe son called---with permission---sent up his card, and was summoned to his mother's room. he went. a few minutes later there was a knock at the door. the clerk stood there, apologetic but firm. "i am very sorry, madam, but the regulations provide that your son can visit you only in the parlor." "but i am the wife of major general blank!" exclaimed the surprised lady. "but, mrs. blank, your son is a cadet, and subject to the regulations on the subject. he must either go to the parlor at once, or leave the hotel instantly. if he refuses to do either i am forced to telephone to the tactical officer in charge." the general's wife was therefore obliged to descend to the parlor with her plebe son. no other room but the parlor! this prohibition extends even to the dining room. the cadet may not, under any circumstances, accept an invitation from a friend or relative to take a sociable meal with either. "tyrannous" and "needlessly oppressive," are terms frequently applied by outsiders to the rules that hedge in cadets, but there is a good reason behind every regulation. two or three minutes later a middle-aged woman came slowly down the staircase, gazing about her. at last her glance settled, with some bewilderment on dick and greg, who were the only two cadets in the corridor. "why, i believe you must be mr. prescott and mr. holmes!" exclaimed mrs. bentley, moving forward and holding out both hands. "yes; i am certain of it," she added, as dick and greg, bowing gracefully from the waistline, smiled goodhumoredly. "mercy! but how you boys have grown! i am not sure that it is even proper to call you boys any longer." "if we were boys any longer, mrs. bentley, i am sure you would be in doubt," laughed dick easily. "yes; you see, cadets, under their training here, usually do shoot up in the air. we have some short, runty cadets, however." just then there was a flutter and a swish on the stairs. laura bentley and belle meade came gliding forward, their eyes shining. "yes; i know you both and could tell you apart," cried laura, laughing, as she held out her hand. "but what a tremendous change!" "do you think it is a change for the better?" asked dick, smiling. "oh, i am sure that it is. isn't it, belle? a how wonderfully glad i am to see you both again." dick gazed at laura with pride. he had no right to feel proud, except that she was from gridley, and that she had come all the way to west point to see him in his new life. laura bentley, too, had changed somewhat, though not so much as had her cadet friends. she was but a shade taller, somewhat rounder, and much more womanly in an undefinable way. she was sweeter looking in all ways---dick recognized that much at a glance. her eyes rested upon him, and then more briefly upon greg, in utter friendliness free from coquetry. "can't you get excused and take us over to dress parade?" asked belle. dick turned to look more closely at miss meade. yes; she, too, was changed, and wholly for the better as far as charm of appearance and manner went. both girls had lost the schoolgirl look. they were, indeed, women, even if very young ones. "we can hardly get excused from any duty," dick smiled. "but to-day---a most unusual thing---there is no dress parade." "no parade?" exclaimed mrs. bentley in a tone of disappointment. "no; the officers are entertaining some distinguished outside visitors at cullum hall this afternoon, and the band is over at cullum," greg explained. "i am so sorry," murmured mrs. bentley. "but you will be here until the close of tomorrow afternoon?" asked dick eagerly. "we had planned to go away about eleven in the forenoon," replied mrs. bentley. "then you girls would miss a stroll along flirtation walk," suggested cadet prescott. "it is a very strange thing for a young lady to go away from west point and confess that she has not had cadet escort along flirtation walk." "then we must stay until to-morrow afternoon; may we not, mother?" pleaded laura. "yes; for i wish you to see the most of west point and its famous spots." "then to-morrow afternoon you will be able, also, to see dress parade," dick suggested. "do you forget that tomorrow is sunday? asked mrs. bentley. "no; we have dress parade on sunday." mrs. bentley looked puzzled. to her it seemed almost sacrilegious to parade on sunday! "wait until you have seen our dress parade," greg begged. "then you will understand. it is really as impressive as a religious ceremony; it is the last honors of each day to our country's flag." "oh," murmured mrs. bentley, looking relieved. by this time the little party had moved out on to the veranda. "as there is no dress parade this afternoon," urged dick, "may we not take you over, and let you see our camp from the outside. then, after supper, we may, if you wish, take you to the camp for a look before going to the hop." "as to supper," went on mrs. bentley, "you two young gentlemen must come to the hotel a take the meal with us. wait; i will send word to the office that we shall have guests." "if you do, you will give the clerk cause for a jolly smile," explained prescott, smiling. "no cadet can possibly eat at the hotel. there are many regulations that will surprise you, mrs. bentley. i will explain as many as occur to me." prescott walked between mrs. bentley and laura, while greg came along with belle just behind them. "are you taking me to the hop tonight, mr. holmes?" asked belle with her usual directness. poor greg, seasoned cadet though he was, flushed uncomfortably. "i should be," stammered greg, "but it happens that i am already engaged to drag---to escort a young lady to tonight's hop." "i like that word 'drag' better than 'escort'," laughed belle. "but mr. anstey, our tentmate, is to escort you tonight," greg made haste to explain. "that is the first i have heard of it," replied belle, with an odd smile. "does mr. anstey know about it, either?" "don't make fun of me," begged holmes quickly. "miss meade, there are many customs here that are strange to outsiders. but they are very old customs." "some of them, i suppose," laughed belle, "so old that they should be forgotten." "all cadets are regarded as gentlemen," hurried on greg. "therefore, any cadet may be a suitable escort for a young woman. if one cadet has two young lady friends coming to the hop, for instance, he asks one of his comrades to escort one of his friends. why, a cadet who, for any reason, finds himself unable to attend a hop, after he has invited a young lady, may arrange with anyone of his comrades to call for the young lady in his place." "what if she should decline the unknown substitute who reported to fill the task?" teased belle. "it would betray her unfamiliarity with west point," replied greg, with more spirit than belle had expected from this once very quiet young man. "miss meade, we look upon a our comrades here as gentlemen. we regard the man whom we may send in our place as being more worthy than ourselves. isn't it natural, therefore, that we should expect the young lady to feel honored by the substitution in the way of escort? "wholly so," belle admitted. "if i have said anything that sounded inconsiderate, or too light, you will forgive me, won't you, mr. holmes?" "you haven't offended, and you couldn't," greg replied courteously; "for i never take offence where none is meant, and you would be incapable of intending any." the young people ahead were talking very quietly. laura, indeed, did not wish to talk much. she was taken up with her study of the changed---and improved---dick prescott. "do you know, dick," she asked finally, "i am more pleased over your coming to west point than over anything else that could have happened to you." "why?" dick asked. "because the life here has made such a rapid and fine change in you." "you are sure it has made such a change?" dick inquired. "yes; you were a manly boy in gridley, but you are an actual man, now, and i am certain that the change has been made more quickly here than would have happened in any other life." "one thing i can understand," pursued laura. "the life here is one that is full of purpose. it must be. it takes purpose and downright hard work to change two young men as you and greg have been changed." by this time the little party was close to the west, or road side of the encampment. "isn't that bert dodge over there?" asked laura, after gazing rather intently at a somewhat distant cadet. "that is mr. dodge, laura." "do you care to call him over to speak with us?" asked mrs. bentley. "if you wish it," dick responded evenly. laura looked at him quickly. "are you and mr. dodge no better friends here than at gridley?" she asked in a low tone. "mr. dodge and i are classmates, but we are thrown together very little," dick replied quietly. "i do not think we care about speaking with mr. dodge, do we, mother?" inquired laura. "there is no need to," replied mrs. bentley. at that moment bert dodge espied the little party. after a short, but curious stare, bert turned and came toward them. chapter viii cadet dodge hears something it was an embarrassing position. so, at least, thought laura bentley. "let us walk on," she suggested, turning as though she had not seen dodge. "humph!" muttered dodge, turning his own course. "the girls are showing their backs to me. humph! not that i care about them particularly, but folks back in gridley will be asking them if they saw me, and they'll answer that they didn't speak with me. there's no use in running into a snub, out here in the open. but it's easy! i'll stag it at the hop tonight, and i can get within range before they can signal me to keep away." smiling grimly, dodge went to his tent. after a while it was necessary for dick and greg to take their friends back to the hotel, for the cadets must be on hand punctually for supper formation. "mr. anstey and i will call for you at 7:30, if we may," said dick. "we shall be ready," laura promised. "and that we may not keep you waiting, we'll be down on the veranda." and waiting they were. dick and anstey found mrs. bentley and the girls seated near the ladies' entrance. anstey, the personification of southern grace and courtesy, made his most impressive greetings to the ladies. his languid eyes took in laura bentley at a glance, almost, and he found her to be all that prescott had described. belle meade won anstey's quick approval, though nothing in his face betrayed the fact. at first glance, it appeared that both girls were very simply attired in white, but they had spent days in planning the effects of their gowning. everything about their gowning was most perfectly attuned. above all, they looked what they were---two sweet, wholesome, unaffected young women. "we have time now for a short stroll to camp," proposed prescott. "if you would like it, you can see how we live in summer. the camp is lighted, now." so they strolled past the heads of the streets of the camp. at the guard tent, dick and anstey explained the routine of guard duty, in as far as it would be interesting to women. they touched, lightly, upon some of the pranks that are played against the cadet sentries. wherever mrs. bentley and the girls passed, cadet friends lifted their caps to the ladies with prescott and anstey, the salutes being punctiliously returned. bert dodge was in a rage. he could not get so much as the courtesy of a bow from these girls whom he had known for years. he was being cut dead and he knew it, and the humiliation of the thing was more than he could well bear. a half hour later, he saw the party coming, and discreetly took himself out of sight. "i can play my cards at the hop," he muttered. the over to cullum hall, through the dark night, the little party strolled, one of many similar parties. once inside cullum hall, prescott and anstey, looking mightily like young copies of mars in their splendid dress uniforms, conducted the ladies to seats at the side of the ballroom. dick and anstey next took the ladies' light wraps and went with them to the cloak room, after which they passed on to the coat room and checked their own caps. laura and belle gazed about them with well-bred curiosity---mrs. bentley, too---at the other guests of the evening, who were arriving rapidly. the scene was one of animated life. it would have been hard to say whether the handsome gowns of the young ladies, or the cadet dress uniforms, gave more life and spirit to the scene. as prescott and anstey returned across the ballroom floor the orchestra started a preliminary march. both young cadets fell unconsciously in step close to the door, and came marching, side by side, soldierly---perfect! "what splendid, manly young fellows!" breathed laura admiringly to belle. her mother, too, heard. "be careful, laura," advised her mother, smilingly. "don't lose your heart to a scrap of gray cloth and a brass button." "don't fear," smiled miss bentley happily. "when i lose my heart it shall be to a man! and how many of them we see here tonight mother!" nearly with the precision of a marching platoon the two young men halted before the ladies. yet there was nothing of stiff formality about either prescott or anstey. they stood before their friends, chatting lightly. "tell us about some of the other hops that you have attended before," begged belle meade. "but we haven't attended any," dick replied. "do you recall my promise in gridley, miss bentley---that i would invite you to my first hop as soon as i was eligible to attend one?" "yes," nodded laura smilingly. "this is my first hop," dick said, smilingly. "mine, too," affirmed anstey. "gracious!" laughed belle merrily. "i hope you both know how to dance." "we put in weary lessons as plebes, under the dancing master," laughed dick. "but you danced well in gridley," protested laura. "thank you. but the style is a bit different at west point." "you make me uneasy," pouted belle. "then that uneasiness will vanish by the time you are half through with the first number." "there comes mr. holmes," discovered laura. "what a remarkably pretty girl with him." "mr. griffin's sister," said dick. "isn't that mr. dodge?" murmured laura. dick only half turned, but his sidelong glance covered the doorway. "yes; he appears to be stagging it." bert presently disappeared. as a cadet always claims the first number or two with the young lady whom he has "dragged" hither, "staggers" have to wait until later in the programme. then, presently the music for the opening dance struck up. dick had already presented furlong, a "stagger," to mrs. bentley, so that she was not left alone. furlong had asked the pleasure of a dance with laura's mother, but mrs. bentley, with instinctive tact, realized that the older women did not often dance at cadet hops. so she begged mr. furlong to remain with her and tell her about the cadet hops. as the music struck up, and dick bent before her, he thrilled with the grace and unaffected friendliness with which laura rose and rested one hand on his shoulder. she was a woman, and a magnificent one! away they whirled, anstey and belle following. "i greatly enjoyed the high school hops of former days," sighed laura, "but this is finer." "same escort," murmured dick. "same name, but in many ways much changed," laughed miss bentley. "dick, i am so glad you came to west point." "so am i," he answered simply. the first two numbers they danced together, then changed partners for the third dance. between times, greg had appeared with miss griffin and introductions had followed. dick's fourth number was danced with miss griffin, while anstey led her out for the fifth. for that fifth dance dick introduced one of his classmates to laura, and, during that dance, prescott stood and chatted with mrs. bentley. he saw to it that laura's mother was very seldom without company through the evening. the sixth dance dick enjoyed with laura. "i had a reason for waiting and asking for this dance," he murmured in her ear. "yes?" challenged laura. "i discovered that it is the longest number on the programme. i would dearly love the next number, also, but i must not make the evening too dull and prosy for you. will you trust me to select your partner for the next dance?" "i am wholly in your hands," smiled miss bentley. after dick had conducted laura to a seat beside her mother he stepped away to find sennett, of the yearling class. "sennett," murmured dick banteringly, "i have seen you casting eyes at miss bentley." "i fear i must plead my guilt, old ramrod. are you going to present me?" "for the next dance. i think, if you are very much on your guard, sennett, you will pass for enough of a gentleman for a few minutes." "i'll call you out for that on monday," retorted the other yearling, in mock wrath. "but, for the present, lead me over that i may prostrate myself at the feet of the femme." so dick stood beside mrs. bentley and watched laura dance with one of the most popular fellows of the class. as sennett and laura returned to mrs. bentley, cadet dodge suddenly slipped up as though from nowhere. "miss bentley," he murmured, bowing before laura, after having greeted her mother, "i am presumptuous enough to trust that you remember me." "perfectly, mr. dodge," replied laura in her even tones. "how do you do?" she did not offer her hand; within the limits of perfectly good breeding it was her privilege to withhold it without slight or offence. "how have you been since the old high school days?" "perfectly well, thank you." "and you, mrs. bentley?" asked dodge, again bowing before her mother. "very well, thank you, mr. dodge," replied mrs. bentley, who subtly took her cue from her daughter. "now, miss bentley, you are not going to leave a broken heart behind you at west point?" urged bert softly. "you are going to let me write my name on your dance card---even if only once." "you should have spoken earlier, mr. dodge," laughed laura. "every dance, if not already taken, is good as promised." yearling dodge could not conceal his chagrin. at that moment belle meade returned with one of the tallest cadets on the floor. bert greeted her effusively. belle returned the greeting as evenly and as perfectly as laura had done---but nothing more. "miss meade, you are going to be tenderhearted enough to flatter me with one dance?" begged dodge. "oh, i am so sorry!" replied belle, in a tone of well-bred regret that carried with it nothing more than courtesy, "but i'm promised for every dance." cadets prescott and sennett had turned slightly aside. so had belle's late partner. dodge knew that they were laughing inwardly at his waterloo. and anstey and greg, who stood by at this moment, appeared to be wearing inscrutable grins. dodge made his adieus hurriedly, walking up the ballroom just ahead of furlong, who also had observed. bert felt sure so many of his comrades had seen and enjoyed his plight that his fury was at white heat as he stepped just outside the ballroom. furlong came after him, looking at him quizzically. "we staggers have a hard time of it, eh, dodge?" grinned mr. furlong. "are you referring to the two femmes i was just billing?" shot out dodge impetuously. "oh, they're very inconsequential girls!" mr. furlong drew himself up very straight, his eyes flashing fire. "you dog!" he exclaimed, in utter disgust. yearling dodge turned ghastly white. "you---you didn't understand me. let me explain," he urged. "you can't explain a remark like yours," muttered mr. furlong over his shoulder, as he turned his back on bert. to be called a "dog" has but one sequence in cadet world. bert dodge had to send his seconds to mr. furlong before taps. though they must have loathed their task, had they known the whole story, the seconds made arrangements with mr. furlong's representatives. before reveille the next morning bert dodge stood up for nearly two rounds before the sledgehammer fists of mr. furlong. when it was over, dodge sought cadet hospital, remaining there until monday morning, and returning to camp looking somewhat the worse for wear. along with truth, honor and courtesy, tenderest chivalry toward woman is one of the fairest flowers of the west point teaching. fellows like yearling dodge cannot be taught. they can only be insulted to the fighting point, and then pummelled. cadet furlong went to considerable inconvenience, though uncomplainingly, for two young women whom he had not the pleasure of knowing. chapter ix spoony femme---flirtation walk "so this is flirtation walk?" asked belle meade. the four young people---anstey was one of them---had just turned into the famous path, which begins not far to the eastward of the hotel. it was between one and two o'clock on sunday afternoon. "this is flirtation walk," replied mr. anstey. "but is one compelled to flirt, on this stroll?" asked belle, with a comical pout. "by no means," anstey hastened to assure her. "yet the surroundings often bring out all there may be of slumbering inclination to flirt." "where did the walk ever get such a name?" pursued belle. "really, you have to see the first half of it before you can quite comprehend," the virginian told her. "i suppose you have been over this way times innumerable?" teased miss meade. "hardly," replied anstey seriously. "i have been a yearling only a few days." "but is a plebe forbidden to stroll here?" "if a plebe did have the brass to try it," replied anstey slowly, "i reckon he would have to fight the whole yearling class in turn." laura caught some of the conversation, and turned to dick. "haven't plebes any rights or privileges?" she asked. "oh, yes, indeed," replied prescott gravely. "a plebe is fed three meals a day, like anyone else. if he gets hurt he has a right to medical and surgical attendance. he is allowed to attend chapel on sunday, just like an upper classman, and he may receive and write letters. but he mustn't butt into upper-class privileges." "poor plebe!" sighed sympathetic laura. "lucky plebe!" amended dick. "weren't you fearfully glum and homesick last year? "some of the time, desperately so." "yet you believe it is right to ignore a plebe, and to make him so wretched?" "the upper classmen don't make the plebe wretched. the plebe is just on probation while he's in the fourth class---that's all. the plebe is required to prove that he's a man before he's accepted as one." "it all seems dreadfully hard," contended laura. "it is hard, but necessary, if the west point man is to be graduated as anything but a snob with an enlarged cranium. laura, you remember what a fuss the 'blade' made over me when i won my appointment? now, almost every new man come to west point with some such splurge made about him at home. he reaches here thinking he's one of the smartest fellows in creation. in a good many cases, too, the fellow has been spoiled ever since he was a baby, by being the son of wealthy parents, or by being from a family distinguished in some petty local social circles. the first move here, on the part of the upper classmen, is to take all of that swelling out of the new man's head. then, most likely, the new man has never had any home training in being really manly. here, he must be a man or get out. it takes some training, some probation, some hard knocks and other things to make a man out of the fellow. he has to be a man, if he's going to be fit to command troops." anstey, who had been walking close behind his comrade, added: "the new man, if he has been spoiled at home, usually comes here with a more or less bad temper. he can't talk ugly here, or double his fists, or give anyone black looks---except with one invariable result." "what?" asked both girls eagerly. "he must fight, as soon as the meeting can be arranged," replied anstey. "that sounds rather horrible!" shuddered laura. "does it?" asked dick dryly. "we're being trained here for fighting men." "but what do they fight about?" inquired belle. "well, one man, who probably will never be thought of highly again," replied anstey, "spoke slightingly of a girl at the hop last night. the cadet who heard him didn't even know the girl, but he called the cadet a 'dog' for speaking that way of a woman." "what happened?" inquired laura. "the man who was called a 'dog' was, according to our code, compelled to call his insulter out." "are they going to fight?" asked belle eagerly. "the 'dog' was whipped at the first streak of daylight this morning," the virginian answered. "that particular 'dog' is now in a special little kennel at the hospital. hasn't he learned anything? he knows more about practical chivalry than he did last night." "this talk is getting a bit savage," laughed dick. "let me call your attention to the beauty of the view here." the view was, indeed, a striking one. the two couples had halted at a rock-strewn point on the walk. the beauty of the woods was all about them. through the trees to the east they could see the hudson, almost at their feet, yet far below them. looking northward, they saw a noble sweep of the same grand river, above the bend. "come forward a bit" urged anstey of belle. "i want to show you a beautiful effect across the river." as they passed on, just out of sight, greg holmes came along, talking animatedly with miss griffin. at sight of laura, greg halted, and the four young people chatted. at last holmes and miss griffin passed on to speak to belle. "i feel as if i could spend an entire day on this beautiful spot," murmured laura contentedly. "let me fix a seat for you," begged dick, spreading his handkerchief on a flat rock. laura thanked him and sat down. dick threw himself on the grass beside the rock. then laura told him a lot of the home-town news, and they talked over the high school days to their hearts' content. "i don't know that i've ever seen such a beautiful spot as it is right at this part of the walk," spoke laura presently, after a few couples had strolled above them. "and such beautiful wild flowers! look at the honeysuckle up there. i really wish i could get some of that to take back to the hotel. i could press it before it withered." "it is easily enough obtained," smiled dick, rising quickly. "o-o-o-h! don't, please!" called miss bentley uneasily, for dick, after examining the face of the little cliff for footing, had begun to scale up toward the honeysuckle. "hold your parasol---open," he directed, looking down with a smile. in another moment he was tossing down the beautiful blossoms into the open parasol that miss bentley held upside down. "how would you like some of these ferns?" dick called down, pulling out a sample by the roots and holding it out to view. "oh, if you please!" several ferns fell into the upturned parasol. then dick scrambled down, resuming his lounging seat on the grass, while laura examined her treasures and chatted. "what a splendid, thoroughbred girl she has become!" kept running through prescott's mind. every detail, from the tip of her small, dainty boot, peeping out from under the hem of the skirt, up to the beautiful coloring of her face and the purity of her low, white feminine brow dick noted in turn. he had never seen laura look so attractive, not even in her dainty ball finery of the night before. he had never felt so strongly drawn toward her as he did now. he longed to tell her so, and not lightly, either, but with direct, manly force and meaning. though cadet prescott's face showed none of his temptation, he found himself repeatedly on the dangerous brink of sentimentality. since coming to west point he had seen many charming girls, yet not one who appealed to him as did this dainty one from his own home town and the old, bygone school days. but dick tried to hold himself back. he had, yet, nothing to offer the woman whom he should tell of his love. he was by no means certain that he would finally graduate from the military academy. without a place in life, what had he to offer? would it be fair or honorable to seek to capture the love of this girl when his own future was yet so uncertain? yet caution and prudence seemed more likely to fly away every time he glanced at this dear girl. in desperation dick rose quickly. "laura," he said softly, "if we remain here all afternoon there is a lot that we shall fail to see. are you for going on with our walk?" laura bentley looked up at him with something of a little start. perhaps she, too, had been thinking, but a girl may not speak all that passes in her mind. "yes," she answered; "let us keep on." dick, as he walked beside her, was tortured with the feeling that laura bentley might not wait long before making her choice of men in the world. some other fellow, more enterprising than he, might----"but it wouldn't be fair!" muttered prescott to himself. "i have no right to ask her to tie herself for years, and then perhaps fail myself." laura thought her cadet companion appeared a bit absent minded during the rest of the walk. who shall know what passes in a girl's innermost mind? perhaps she divined what was moving in his mind. as they passed by the coast battery, then came up by battle monument, and so to the hotel, they found greg and anstey leaning against the veranda railing, chatting with belle and miss griffin. these latest arrivals joined the others. mrs. bentley at last came down and joined them. thrice, in duty bound, dick glanced at his watch. the third time a sigh full of bitterness escaped him. "this is the meanest minute in my life," he declared. "it is time to say good-bye, for we must get back to camp and into full-dress uniform for parade." "but shall we not see you after parade? asked laura, looking up quickly, an odd look flitting over her face. "no; we are soldiers, and move by schedule," signed dick. "after parade there will be other duties, then supper. and you are going at the end of parade!" bravely prescott faced the farewells, though he knew more of the wrench than even laura could have guessed. "but you will come again in winter?" he murmured in a low voice to laura. "if mother permits," she answered, looking down at her boot tip, then up again, smiling, into his face. "mrs bentley, you'll bring the girls here again, this winter, won't you?" appealed dick. "if dr. bentley and belle's parents approve, i'll try to," answered the matron. then came the leave-takings, brief and open. with a final lifting of their caps dick and the others turned and strode down the path. laura and belle gazed after them until the young men had disappeared into the encampment. but you may be sure the girls were over on the parade ground by the time that the good old gray battalion had turned out and marched over, forming in battalion front. it was a beautiful sight. mrs. bentley wasn't martial, but as she looked on at that straight, inflexible wall of gray and steel, as the band played the colors up to the right of line, the good matron was thinking to herself: "what a pity that the country hasn't a thousand such battalions of the flower of young american manhood! then what fear could we know in time of war?" the girls looked on almost breathlessly, starting at the boom of the sunset gun, then thrilling with a new realization of what their country meant when the band crashed out in the exultant strains of the "star spangled banner" and the stars and stripes fluttered down at west point, to rise on another day of the nation's life. it was over, and the visitors took the stage to the railway station. what a fearfully dull evening it seemed in camp! dick had never known the time to hang so heavily. he would almost have welcomed guard duty. over in another tent near by a "soiree" was in full but very quiet blast, for that bumptious plebe, mr. briggs, had been caught in more mischief, and was being "instructed" by his superiors in length of service. prescott, however, didn't even look in to see what was happening. * * * * * * * * "isn't west point life glorious, belle?" asked laura eagerly as the west shore train carried them toward new york. "fine!" replied belle enthusiastically. "but still---wait until we have seen annapolis." at ten o'clock the next morning the young ladies and mrs. bentley were traveling in a pullman car, on another stage of their journey. "i wonder what our young cadets are doing?" laura wondered aloud, as she leaned forward. "enjoying themselves, you may be sure," mrs. bentley replied promptly, with a smile. "that summer encampment seems like one long, huge lark," put in belle meade. "it must be great for young men to be able to enjoy themselves so thoroughly." "i wonder just what our young men are doing at this moment?" persisted laura. "well, if they're not dressing for something," calculated mrs. bentley, "you may be sure they're moving about looking as elegant as ever and making themselves highly agreeable in a social way." ye gods of war! at that very moment dick, in field uniform, and dripping profusely under the hot sun, was carrying a long succession of planks, each nearly as long and heavy as he could manage, to other cadets who waited to nail them in place on a pontoon bridge out over an arm of the hudson. greg holmes was one of four young men toiling at the rope by which they were endeavoring to drag a mountain howitzer into position up a steep slope near crow's nest, while anstey, studying field fortification, was digging in a trench with all his might and main. chapter x the cure for plebe animal spirits so the weeks slipped by. up at five in the morning, busy most of the time until six in the evening, the cadets of the first, third and fourth classes found ample time to enjoy themselves between dark and taps, at 10.30, except when guard duty or something else interfered. much of the "idle" time through the day was spent in short naps, to make up for that short six hours and a half of regular night sleep. yet all the young men seemed to thrive in their life of hard work and outdoor air. hazing was proceeding merrily, so far as some of the yearlings were concerned. perhaps half of the class in all engaged in two or more real hazings through the summer. a few of the third classmen became almost inveterate hazers. but dick prescott, true to the principles had stated at the beginning of the encampment, hazed a plebe only when he believed it to be actually necessary in order to keep properly down some bumptious new man. dodge returned from hospital after a very short stay there. word had spread through the camp. though dodge, who admitted frankly that his thrashing had been deserved, managed to keep a few friends, but was avoided by most of the yearlings. since he had taken his medicine so frankly, he was not, however, "cut." one afternoon, when dick had been dozing on his mattress for about ten minutes, during a period of freedom from drill, the tent flap rustled, and yearling furlong looked in. "what is it?" called dick. "sorry if i've roused you, old ramrod," murmured the caller. "that's all right, milesy. come in and rest yourself. you won't mind if i keep flat, will you? "not in training for sick report?" asked furlong, glancing down solicitously. but he saw the glow of robust health glowing through the deep coat of tan on prescott's face. "my appetite doesn't resemble sick report," laughed dick. "but, while you don't really look ill, milesy, it's very plain that you have something serious on your mind. out with it! "i guess that will make me feel better," assented furlong, with a sigh. "it's all that little plebe beast, mr. briggs." "surely he hasn't been hazing you?" inquired prescott, opening his eyes very wide. "no, no; not just that, old ramrod," replied furlong. "but mr. briggs is proving a huge disappointment to me. i've done my best to make a meek and lowly cub of him, but he won't consent to fill his place. now, that little beast made a good enough get away with his studies during the three months before camp. he mastered all the work of the soldier in ranks. at bottoms mr. briggs is really a very good little boy soldier. but he's so abominably and incurably fresh that he should have gone to annapolis, where there's always some salt in the breeze. "what has mr. briggs been doing now?" asked dick with interest. "what doesn't mr. briggs do?" sighed furlong mournfully. "instead of sleeping nights, that beast must lie awake, devising more ways of being unutterably fresh. but now he's contaminating his bunkie, mr. ellis." "evil company always did work havoc with good manners," nodded dick. "so mr. ellis has gone bad, has he?" "do you know," continued furlong severely, "that three mornings ago, when jessup, of our class, was dressing at forty horsepower so he wouldn't miss reveille formation, that he stepped into two shoes full of soft soap, and had to go out sloshing into line in that shape, just because he couldn't spare the time to take his shoes off and empty them? "yes," nodded prescott. "we suspected haverford, of the first class, of that, because jessup, on guard, challenged haverford when haverford was trying to run the guard after taps." "haverford nothing," retorted furlong. "he's above such jobs. no, sir! this afternoon jessup ran plumb into mr. ellis when that little beast bunkie of the other beast, mr. briggs, was just in the act of dropping soft soap into the shoes that aldrich will wear to dress parade today. "where on earth did mr. ellis get hold of soft soap?" demanded prescott, raising himself on one elbow. "you're entirely missing the problem, old ramrod!" grunted furlong wrathfully. "the question is, how can we possibly soak such habits out of mr. ellis and mr. briggs?" "perhaps it can't be done," suggested dick. "it must be done!" uttered furlong savagely. "well, i can't think of any yearling better suited to the task that you are, milesy!" "one man? or one tentful, isn't equal to any such gigantic piece of work!" retorted furlong. "ramrod, you've got to appoint a class committee to take these two baboons in hand. it ought to be done this very night, too. now, sit up, won't you, and get your thinking cap on?" "have you talked with any of the other men?" "yes; and they all agree that a soiree must be given to mr. ellis, and that you should be present." "what is the call for me, milesy? "you are the class president." "but this is no affair that involves the honor of the class. therefore, as president, i cannot see that there is any call for me." "it is the feeling with all the members of the yearling class that you should be present." prescott looked at his visitor intently for a moment. dick understood, now. he had taken "too little" interest in the hazing of b.j. plebes, and the class did not want to see its president shirk any duties that might be considered his, either as yearling or as class president. "very good, milesy," replied dick quietly. "you may inform all anxious inquirers that i'll be on hand. where and at what hour?" "eight o'clock, in dunstan's tent." "very good." furlong arose with a satisfied look on his face. he had, in fact, been deputed by others to make sure that prescott would be on hand. there is always a good deal of risk attendant on hazing. it may lead to discovery---and dismissal. "i wonder if some of the fellows think i keep away from hazing simply because i'm afraid of risking my neck?" yawned dick. "they practically insist on my sitting in to-night, do they? oh, well!" the hop took more men away from camp than usual that night. other cadets met friends from the hotel or officers' quarters at post number one. but over in dunstan's tent a considerable group of yearlings gathered. a few, in fact, were obliged to stand outside. this they did in such a way as not to attract the attention of the o.c. or any chance tac. dick was there, and with him were holmes and anstey, to both of whom had been conveyed a hint as strong as that which had reached the class president. furlong, griffin and dobbs were in the tent. jessup and aldrich were there as a matter of fact. on the still night air came the clanging of eight on the big clock down in the group of barracks and academic building. just as the strokes were pealing forth plebes briggs and ellis came up the street and stood at the front pole of dunstan's tent. "come in, beasties," summoned furlong. "we are awaiting you." neither plebe looked over joyous as the pair entered. "stand there, misters," ordered dick, pointing to the space that had been reserved for the victims of the affair. "now, misters, there is some complaint that you have mistaken west point for a theatrical training school. the suspicion is gaining ground that you two beasties imagine you have been appointed here as comedians. is that your delusion?" "no, sir," replied mr. briggs and mr. ellis in one solemn breath. "then what ails you, misters?" demanded dick severely. both plebes remained silent. "answer me, sirs. you first, mr. briggs." "i think we must have been carried away by excess of animal spirits, sir," replied mr. briggs, now speaking meekly enough. "animal spirits?" repeated dick thoughtfully. "there may be much truth and reason in that idea. camp life here is repressive of animal spirits, to be sure. we who are your mentors to some extent should have thought of that. mr. briggs, you shall find relief for your animal spirits. mr. ellis, what is your defence?" "i thought, sir---thought-----" with the yearling president's eyes fixed on him in stern, searching gaze, the once merry little mr. ellis became confused. he broke off stameringly. "that's enough, mr. ellis," replied the class president. "you admit that you thought. now, no plebe is capable of thinking. your answer, mister, proves you to be guilty of egotism." then dick, with the air of a judge, yet with a mocking pretence of gentleness and leniency sounding; in his voice, turned back to plebe briggs. "mr. briggs, you will now proceed to relieve your animal spirits by some spirited animal conduct. the animal that you will represent will be the crab. down on your face, mister!" flat on the floor lay mr. briggs. the yearlings outside, at the tent doorway, scenting something coming, peered in eagerly. "now, spread out your arms and legs, mister, just as any good crab should do. raise your body from the floor. not too much; about six inches will do. now, mister, move about as nearly as possible in the manner of a crab. stop, mister! don't you know that a crab moves either backwards or sideways? it will not give enough vent to your animal spirits unless you move exactly as your model, the crab, does. try it again, mister, and be painstaking in your imitation." mr. briggs presented a most grotesque appearance as he crawled about over the floor in the very limited space allowed him by the presence of so many others. the yearlings enjoyed it all in mirthful silence. "as for you, mister," continued dick, turning upon the uncomfortable mr. ellis, "your self-conceit so fills every part of your body that the only thing for you is to stand on your head. go to the rear tentpole and stand on your head. you may brace your feet against the pole. but remain on your head until we make sure that all the conceit has run out of you!" mr. briggs was still "crabbing it" over the floor. every minute the task became more irksome. "up with you, mister," prescott admonished. "no self-respecting crab, with an abundance of animal spirits, ever trails along the ground like that." after some two minutes of standing on his head mr. ellis fell over sideways, his feet thudding. "up with you, sir," admonished dick. "you are still so full of egotism that it sways you like the walking beam of a steamboat. up with you, mister, and up you stay until there is no ballast of conceit left in you." crab-crab-crab! mr. briggs continued to move sidewise and backward over the tent flooring. mr. ellis was growing frightfully red in the face. but prescott, from the remembrance of his own plebe days, knew to a dot how long a healthy plebe could keep that inverted position without serious injury. so the class president, sitting as judge in the court of hazing, showed no mercy. some of the yearlings who stood outside peering in should have kept a weather eye open for the approach of trouble from tac. quarters. but, as the ordeals of both of the once frisky plebes became more severe, the interest of those outside increased. crab-crab-crab! continued mr. briggs. it seemed to him as though his belt-line weighed fully a ton, so hard was it to keep his abdomen off the floor, resting solely on his hands and feet. mr. ellis must have felt that conceit and he could never again be friends, judging by the redness of his face and the straining of his muscles. an approaching step outside should have been heard by some of the yearlings looking in through the doorway, but it wasn't. then, all in an instant, the step quickened, and lieutenant topham, o.c. for the day, made for the tent door! chapter xi lieutenant topham feels queer yearling kelton barely turned his head, but he caught sight of the olive drab of the uniform of the army officer within a few feet. pretending not to have seen the officer, cadet kelton drew in his breath with a sharp whistle. it was not loud, but it was penetrating, and it carried the warning. swift as a flash prescott caught upside-down mr. ellis, and fairly rolled him out under the canvas edge at the back of the tent. greg instantly shoved the prostrate mr. briggs through by the same exit. fortunately both plebes were too much astonished to utter a sound. "crouch and scowl at me, greg---hideously whispered alert-witted dick." as he spoke, prescott swiftly crouched before holmes. dick's hands rested on his knees; he stuck out his tongue and scowled fiercely at holmes, who tried to repay the compliment with interest. although all the yearlings in the tent had been "scared stiff" at kelton's low, warning signal, all, by an effort, laughed heartily, their gaze on prescott and holmes. "yah!" growled dick. "perhaps i did steal the widow's chickens, and i'll even admit that i did appropriate the pennies from her baby's bank. but that's nothing. tell 'em about the time you stole the oats from the blind horse's crib and put breakfast food in its place." everyone of the yearlings in the tent knew that trouble stood at the door, and that they must keep up the pretence. there was a chorus of laughter, and two or three applauded. "i did---admit it," bellowed greg. "but you stand there and admit the whole shameful truth about the time that you-----" "attention!" called kelton, turning, then recognizing lieutenant topham and saluting. "the officer in charge!" on the jump every yearling inside turned and stood rapidly at attention. "gentlemen, i'm sorry to have spoiled the show," laughed lieutenant topham. he had seen the shadows of briggs and ellis on the canvas, and had expected to drop in upon a different scene. but now this tac. was wholly disarmed. he honestly believed that he had stumbled upon a party of yearlings having a good time with a bit of nonsensical dialogue. "mr. prescott! mr. holmes!" "sir?" answered both yearlings, saluting. "i will suggest that you two might work up the act you were just indulging in. you ought to raise a great laugh the next time a minstrel show is given by the cadets." "thank you, sir"---from both "performers." lieutenant topham turned and passed on down the company street. the two expelled plebes, in the meantime, had a chance to slip off silently. even had briggs and ellis been inclined to "show up" their hazers, they knew too well the fate that would await such a pair of plebes at the hands of the cadet corps. "that shows how easily a suspicious man's eyes may deceive him," mused lieutenant topham as he walked along. kelton now allowed his gaze to follow the retreating o.c., while the yearlings in the tent stood in dazed silence. they were still panting over the narrow escape from a scrape that might have cost them their places on the roll of the battalion. "safe!" whispered kelton. "you may thank your deliverers." then, indeed, the other yearlings pressed about prescott and holmes, hugging them and patting them extravagantly. when lieutenant topham returned to his tent, he found captain bates there, with a visitor. by the time that he had stepped inside, topham also discovered the presence of the k.c. likewise engaged. "i've just had a good lesson in the pranks that a man's eyes and ears may play upon him," announced topham, unbelting his sword. then he related, with relish, the occurrence at dunstan's tent. "humph!" grunted captain bates. "you say mr. prescott was there?" "yes, captain." "then, topham, you didn't really see very much of what happened, after all," half jeered captain bates. "if prescott was there, the crowd had a plebe on hand, depend on it." "but i would have seen the plebe." "not when you have to contend with a man like mr. prescott! if he had a tenth of a second's warning it would be enough for him to roll the plebe out at the back of the tent." "now, i think of it," confessed lieutenant topham slowly, "i think i did hear a slight sound at the back of the tent." "you didn't investigate that sound, mr. topham?" "why, no, sir. i thought i was looking at the whole show." "instead of which," chuckled captain bates, "you saw only the curtain that had just been rung down, and the author of the piece bowing to the audience." "well, i'll be---switched!" ejaculated mr. topham, dropping into his chair. "mr. prescott has the reputation of being the cleverest dodger in the yearling class," declared the k.c., in a dry voice. "it was bates who first discovered that quality in mr. prescott, but i must admit that he has convinced me. tomorrow a new cadet corporal will be appointed, and the fact published in orders. the new corporal takes the place of corporal ryder, who has been busted (reduced). mr. prescott would have been appointed corporal, but for his reputation for dodging out of the biggest scrapes of his class. so mr. dodge is to be the new cadet corporal." "oh, you sly old ramrod!" dunstan was murmuring ecstatically, back in that other tent. "when i think of all the yearlings who've been dropped for hazing in past years! if each class had only had a prescott all of those yearlings would have been saved to the service!" but dick, though he did not know it, had a reputation in the tac. department which had just prevented his attaining to the honor that he desired most---appointment as cadet corporal. chapter xii under a fearful charge cadet corporal dodge took his new appointment as a triumph in revenge. of late he had been growing even less popular. he determined to be a martinet with the men in ranks under him. he made the mistake that all petty, senseless tyrants do. the great disciplinarian is never needlessly a tyrant. * * * * * * * * the summer in camp passed quickly after july had gone. in all, miss griffin made four visits to west point that summer. greg became her favored and eager escort, to the disappointment of fifty men who would have been glad to take his place. both cadet holmes and mr. griffin's very pretty sister kept up their attitudes of laughing challenge to each other throughout the summer. it was impossible to see that either had scored a deep impression on the other. not even to his chum did greg confide whether miss griffin had caught his heart. mr. griffin, her brother, could hardly venture a guess to himself as to whether his sister cared for the tall and manly looking holmes. but when miss griffin had reached the end of her last summer visit to west point she told greg that she would not be there again for some time to come. "at least," asked greg, "you'll be here again when the winter hops start?" "i cannot say," was all the reply miss adele griffin would make. "in three weeks she goes back to the seminary in virginia," said griff, when greg spoke to him about the matter. "dell won't see west point before next summer. our people are not rich enough to keep dell traveling all the time." whether greg was crestfallen at the news no one knew. greg had never believed, anyway, in wearing his heart on his sleeve---"just for other folks to stick pins in it, you know," was his explanation. there came the day when the furloughed second class marched over to camp. very quickly after that all classes were back in cadet barracks, and the charming summer of mars had given place to the hard fall, winter and spring of the academic grind. the return to studies found both greg and dick forced to do some extra hard work. mathematics for this year went "miles ahead" of anything that the former gridley boys had encountered in high school. had they been able to pursue this branch of study in the more leisurely and lenient way of the colleges, both young men might have stood well. as it was, after the first fortnight greg went to the "goats," or the lowest section in mathematics, while dick, not extremely better off, hung only in the section above the goat line. as the fall hops came on greg went to about three out of every four. "a fellow can bone until his brain is nothing but a mess of bone dust," he complained. "dick, old chum, you'd better go to hops, too." dick went to only one, in october. he stagged it, whereas greg often dragged. but prescott saw no girl there who looked enough like laura bentley to interest him. his standing in class interested him far more than hops at which a certain gridley girl could not be present. laura had written him that she and belle might be at a hop early in december. "i'll wait and look forward to it," decided dick. but he said nothing, even to greg. holmes was showing an ability to be interested in too many different girls, prescott decided. but it may be that holmes, knowing that griffin corresponded with his pretty, black-eyed little sister, may have been intentionally furnishing subjects for the news that was despatched to a virginia seminary. "come on, old ramrod," urged greg one saturday night, as he gave great heed to his dressing. "you'll bone yourself dry, staying here all the time with smith's conic sections. drop that dry math. rot and stag it with me over at cullum tonight. you can take math. up again after chapel tomorrow." "thank you," replied prescott, turning around from the study table at which he was seated. "i don't care much for the social whirl while there's any doubt about the january exams. it would be no pleasure to go over to cullum. there'll be real satisfaction if i can look forward to better marking this coming week." dick spent his time until taps at the study table. but when he closed the book it was with a sigh of satisfaction. "if i can only go through a few more nights as easily as i have tonight, i'll soon astound myself by maxing it" (making one of the highest marks), he told himself. "i think i'm beginning to see real light in conic sections, but i'll have the books out again tomorrow afternoon." * * * * * * * * "well?" challenged holmes gayly, as he entered their room after the hop. "i believe i'm going to turn over a new leaf and max it some," grinned prescott. "don't!" expostulated greg, with a look of mock alarm. the daily marks were not posted until the end of the academic week, but prescott knew, when monday's recitation in mathematics was over, that he had found new favor in the eyes of captain abbott, the instructor. on tuesday again he was sure that he had landed another high mark. greg caught some of the fire of his chum's example, and he, too, began to bone so furiously that he decided to drop the hops for the time. wednesday again dick marched back in mathematics section with a consciousness that he had not fumbled once in explaining the problem that he had been ordered to set forth the blackboard. "i hear that you're going to graduate ahead of time, and be appointed professor in math.," grinned greg. "well, i'm at least beginning to find out that some things are better than hops," laughed dick happily. "greg, if i can kill math. to my satisfaction this year, i shan't have another doubt about being able to get through and graduate here!" it was the end of november by this time, and dick, on thursday of this successful week, received a letter to the effect that laura and belle would arrive at west point on saturday afternoon at one o'clock. the news nearly broke up prescott's three hours of study that thursday evening. however, he fought off the feeling of excitement and hampering delight. when dick marched with his section into mathematics friday morning he felt a calm confidence that he would keep up the average of his fine performance for the week. "mr. furlong, mr. dunstan, mr. prescott and mr. gray, go to the blackboards," ordered captain abbott. "the other gentlemen will recite from their seats." stepping nimbly over to the blackboard, in one corner of which his name had been written, dick picked up the chalk, setting down the preliminaries of the problem assigned to him. then his chalk ran nimbly along over the first lines of his demonstration. at last he stopped. captain abbott, who was generally accredited with possessing several pairs of eyes, noted that mr. prescott had halted. for some moments the young man went anxiously over what he had already written. at last he turned around, facing the instructor, and saluted. "permission to erase, sir?" requested prescott., captain abbott nodded his assent. picking up the eraser, dick carefully erased the last two lines that he had set down. then, as though working under a new inspiration, he went ahead setting down line after line of the demonstration of this difficult problem. only once did he halt, and then for not more than thirty seconds. dunstan went through a halting explanation of his problem. then captain abbott called: "mr. prescott!" taking up the short pointer, dick rattled off the statement of the problem. then he plunged into his demonstration, becoming more and more confident as he progressed. when he had finished captain abbott asked three or four questions. dick answered these without hesitation. "excellent," nodded the gratified instructor. "that is all, mr. prescott." as dick turned to step to his seat he pulled his handkerchief from the breast of his blouse and wiped the chalk from his hands. all unseen by himself a narrow slip of white paper fluttered from underneath his handkerchief to the floor. "mr. prescott," called captain abbott, "will you bring me that piece of paper from the floor?" dick obeyed without curiosity, then turned again and gained his seat. the instructor, in the meantime, had called upon mr. pike. while pike was reciting, haltingly, captain abbott turned over the slip of paper on his desk, glancing at it with "one of his pairs of eyes." anyone who had been looking at the instructor at that moment would have noted a slight start and a brief change of color in the captain's face. but he said nothing until all of the cadets had recited and had been marked. "mr. prescott!" the instructor then called dick rose, standing by his seat. "mr. prescott, did you work out your problem for today unaided?" "i had a little aid, last night, sir, from mr. anstey." "but you had no aid in the section room today?" "no, sir," replied dick, feeling much puzzled. "you understand my question, mr. prescott?" "i think so, sir." "in putting down your demonstration on the blackboard today you had no aid whatever?" "none whatever, sir." "at one stage, air. prescott, you hesitated, waited, then asked permission to erase? after that erasure you went on with hardly a break to the end of the blackboard work." "yes, sir." "and, at the time you hesitated, before securing leave to erase, you did not consult any aid in your work?" "no, sir." "this piece of paper," continued captain abbott, lifting the slip, "fell from your handkerchief when you drew it out, just as you left the blackboard. that was why i asked you to bring it to me, mr. prescott. this paper contains all the salient features of your demonstration. can you explain this fact, mr. prescott?" the astounded yearling felt as though his brain were reeling. he went hot and cold, all in a flash. in the same moment the other men of the section sat as though stunned. all lying, deceit and fraud are so utterly detested at west point that to a cadet it is incomprehensible how a comrade can be guilty of such an offence. it seemed to prescott like an age ere he could master his voice. "i never saw that paper, sir, before you asked me to pick it up!" "but it dropped from under your handkerchief, mr. prescott. can you account for that?" "i cannot, sir." captain abbott looked thoughtfully, seriously, at cadet richard prescott. the instructor had always liked this young man, and had deemed him worthy of all trust. yet what did this evidence show? in the meantime the cadets sat staring the tops of their desks, or the covers of their books. the gaze of each man was stony; so were his feelings. prescott, the soul of honor, caught in such a scrape as this! but there must be some sensible and satisfactory explanation, thought at least half of the cadets present. "have i permission to ask a question, sir?" asked dick in an almost hollow voice. "proceed, mr. prescott." "is the paper in my handwriting, sir?" "it is not," declared the instructor. "most of it is in typewriting, with two figures drawn crudely in ink. there are three or four typewriting machines on the post to which a cadet may find easy access. you may examine this piece of paper, mr. prescott, if you think that will aid you to throw any light on the matter." dick stepped forward, lurching slightly. most of the silent men of the section took advantage of this slight distraction to shift their feet to new positions. the noise grated in that awful silence. how dick's hand shook as he reached for the paper. at first his eyes were too blurred for him to make out clearly what was on the paper. but at last he made it all out. "i am very sorry, sir. this paper tells me nothing." captain abbott's gaze was fixed keenly on the young man's face. white-faced prescott, shaking and ghastly looking, showed all the evidences of detected, overwhelmed guilt. innocent men often do the same. "you may return the paper and take your seat, mr. prescott." as prescott turned away he made a powerful effort to hold his head erect, and to look fearlessly before him. it was a full minute, yet, before the bugle would sound through the academic building to end the recitation period. dick was not the only one in this section room who found the wait intolerable. but at last the bugle notes were heard. "the section is dismissed," announced captain abbott. dunstan, the section marcher, formed his men and led them thence. no man in the section held his head more erect than did prescott, who was conscious of his own absolute innocence in the affair. yet, when he reached his room, and sank down at his study table, a groan escaped dick prescott. his head fell forward, cushioned in his folded arms. thus holmes found him on entering the room. "why, old ramrod, what on earth is the matter?" gasped greg. a groan from his chum was the only answer. at that moment another step, brisk and official, was heard in the corridor. there was a short rap on the door, after which unwine, cadet officer of the day, wearing his red sash and sword, stepped into the room. "mr. prescott, you are ordered in close arrest in your quarters until further orders." "yes, sir," huskily replied prescott, who had struggled to his feet and now stood at attention. as unwine wheeled, marching from the room, dick sank again over his study table. "dick, old ramrod," pleaded greg terrified, "what on earth-----" "greg," came the anguished moan, "they're going to try to fire me from west point for a common cheat---and i'm afraid they'll do it, too!" chapter xiii in close arrest ever since greg holmes first came to west point he had been learning the repose and the reserve of the trained soldier. yet if ever his face betrayed utter abandonment to amazement it was now. cadet holmes gazed at his chum in open-mouthed wonder. "by and by," uttered greg fretfully, "you'll tell me the meaning of this joke, and why mr. unwine should be in it, too." it was several minutes before prescott turned around again. when he did there was a furious glare in his eyes. "greg, old chum! this is no joke. you heard unwine. he was delivering an official order, not carrying an april-fool package." "well, then, what does it all mean?" demanded greg stolidly, for he began to feel dazed. "but, first of all, old ramrod, aren't you going to get ready to fall in for dinner formation?" mechanically, wearily, dick obeyed the suggestion. as he did so he managed to tell the story of the section room to horrified greg. "see here," muttered cadet holmes energetically, "you didn't do anything in the cheating line. every fellow in the corps will know that. so you'll have to set your wits at work to find the real explanation of the thing. how could that paper have gotten in with your handkerchief?" "i don't know," replied dick, shaking his head hopelessly. "well, you've got to find out, son, and that right quick! there isn't a moment to be lost! you didn't cheat---you wouldn't know how do a deliberately dishonest thing. but that reply won't satisfy the powers that be. you've got to get your answer ready, and do it with a rush." "perhaps you can also suggest where the rush should start," observed prescott. "yes; i've got to suggest everything that is going to be done, i reckon," muttered greg, resting a chum's loyal hand on dick's shoulder. "old ramrod, you're too dazed to think of anything, and i'm nearly as badly off myself. say, did anyone, to your knowledge, have your handkerchief?" cadet richard prescott wheeled like a flash. his face had gone white again; he stared as though at a terrifying ghost. "by the great horn spoon, greg-----" "good! you're getting roused. now, out with it! "there were a lot of us standing about in the area, a little before time for the math. sections to start off." "yes? and some other fellow handled your handkerchief?" "bert dodge found himself without one, and asked me for mine, to wipe a smear of black from the back of his hand." "which hand?" "the left." "it doesn't really matter which hand," greg pursued, "but i asked to make sure that your mind is working." "oh, my mind is working," uttered dick vengefully. "but what else happened about that handkerchief? "dodge used it, then started to tuck it into his own blouse. i grinned and reminded him that the handkerchief would fit better inside my blouse." "and then?" "just then the call sounded, and we had to jump. dodge handed me back the handkerchief with a swift apology, and raced away to join his section." "and you?" "i tucked the handkerchief in my blouse." "now, do some hard thinking," insisted holmes. "did you take that handkerchief out again until the unlucky time just after you had turned away from the board after explaining in math.?" dick remained silent, while the clock in the room ticked off the seconds. "i am sure i did not," he replied firmly. "no; that was the next time that i took my handkerchief out." "huh!" muttered greg. "we've got our start. and it won't be far to the end, either. cheer up, old man!" at that instant the call for formation sounded. the young men were ready and turned to leave the room on the jump. as they did so, greg muttered in a low tone: "say nothing, but hold up your head and smile. don't let anyone face you down. not ten fellows in the corps will even guess that you could possibly be guilty of anything mean!" wouldn't they? west point cadets have such an utter contempt for anything savoring of cheating or lying that the mere suspicion is often enough to make them hold back. as the cadets moved to their places in the formations scores of cadets passed prescott. short as the time had been, the news was already flying through the corps. usually dick had a score of greetings as made his way to his place in line. today dozen cadets who had been among his friends seemed not to see him. dick recoiled, inwardly, as though from a stinging blow in the face. none of his comrades meant to be cruel. but most of them wanted to make sure that the seemingly reliable charge was not true. they must wait. utterly dejected, prescott marched to dinner. on his way back to barracks a new and overwhelming thought came to him. laura bentley and her mother, and belle meade were due at the hotel the next afternoon, and he and greg had arranged to drag the girls to the saturday-night hop. "greg, i can't leave quarters," muttered dick huskily, as he threw himself down at his desk and began to write rapidly. "you'll have to attend to sending this telegram for me." "on the jump!" assented greg, the telegram was addressed to laura bentley, and read: "don't come to west point tomorrow. my letter will explain." "i'll send it before the drawing lesson," greg uttered, and vanished. confined to quarters in close arrest, cadet prescott put in more than two miserable hours endeavoring to get that letter written. but he couldn't get it penned. then a knock came the door, and a telegram was handed in. it read: "wife and girls have left for shopping trip in new york. don't know where to reach them." it was signed by dr. bentley. the yellow paper fluttered from prescott's hands to the floor. mechanically he picked it up and carried it to his study table. "i can't stop them," he muttered dismally. "nor shall i be out of close arrest by that time, either. there's nothing i can do. i can't even see them---and i've been looking forward to this for months!" again dick prescott buried his head in his arms at the study table. to have laura come here at the time when he was in the deepest disgrace that a cadet may face! greg came back to find his chum pacing the floor in misery. "well, it can't be helped," muttered holmes philosophically. "of course you and anstey can drag the girls to cullum." "surely," muttered holmes listlessly, "if the girls would go at all under such circumstances." "i've made their trip a mockery and a bitter disappointment," groaned dick. "no, you haven't ramrod," retorted greg. "fate may be to blame, but you can't be held accountable for what you didn't do. have no fear. i'll see to the ladies tomorrow afternoon. but i'm a pile more interested in knowing what is to be done in your case. the superintendent and the k.c. may see the absurdity of this whole thing against you, and order your arrest ended." "but that won't clear me, greg, and you know it. there would still be the suspicion in the corps, and---o greg!---i can't endure that suspicion." "pshaw, old ramrod, you won't have to, very long. we'll bust this whole suspicion higher than any kite ever flew. see here, dodge is responsible for your humiliation, and we'll drag it all out of him, if we have to tie him up by the thumbs!" a knock at the door, and anstey entered. "i really couldn't get here before, old ramrod. but i'd cut you in a minute if i thought it really necessary to come here and tell you that i don't believe any charge of dishonor against you, prescott, could possibly be true." "it's mighty pleasant to have every fellow who feels that way come and say so," muttered dick gratefully, as he thrust out his hand. another knock at the door. cadet prescott must report at once at the office of the k.c. down the stairs trudged dick, across the area, and into the office of the commandant of cadets. "i want to know, mr. prescott," declared that officer, "whether you can throw any added light in regard to the occurrence in captain abbott's section room this morning." dick had to deliberate, swiftly, as to whether he should say anything about having loaned mr. dodge his handkerchief briefly. "i reckon i must speak of it," decided the unhappy cadet. "i mean to have dodge summoned, if i'm tried, so i may as well speak of it now." that, and other things, dick stated. the k.c. listened gravely. it was plain from the officer's manner that he believed prescott was going to have difficulty in establishing his innocence. "that is all, mr. prescott," said the k.c. finally. dick saluted and returned to his room. in the few minutes that had elapsed, anstey had done much. in the room were a dozen yearlings who were known to be among dick's best friends. all shock his hand, assuring him that nothing could shake their faith in him. it was comforting, but that was all. "you see, old ramrod," muttered greg, when the callers had left, "there are enough who believe in you. now, you've got to justify that faith by hammering this charge into nothingness. someone has committed a crime---a moral crime anyway. in my own mind dodge is the criminal but i'm not yet prepared to prove it." in the meantime cadet albert dodge was over in the k.c.'s office, undergoing a rigid questioning. dodge freely admitted the episode of handkerchief borrowing but denied any further knowledge. when bert returned to barracks he was most bitter against dick. to all who would listen to him dodge freely stated his opinion of a man who would seek to shield his own wrong-doing by throwing suspicion on another. "there were plenty who saw me borrow the handkerchief," contended dodge stormily. "whoever saw me take it also saw me return it. i'll defy any man to state, under oath, that i returned more than the handkerchief." "how did the smear happen to be on your hand?" asked dunstan, who, besides belonging to the same mathematics section with prescott was also a warm personal friend. bert hesitated, looked uneasy, then replied: "how about the smear? why---i don't know it may have come from a match." "yes, what about that smear? how did it come there?" cried greg, when dunstan repeated dodge's words. through greg's mind, for hours after that, the question insistently intruded itself: "how about that smear?" yet the question seemed to lead to nothing. the next morning, saturday, it was known, throughout cadet barracks, that a general court-martial order for prescott would be published that afternoon. on the one o'clock train from new york came mrs. bentley, laura and belle. they entered the bus at the station, and were driven up, across the plain, to the hotel. after dinner, the girls waited in pleasant expectancy for dick and greg to send up their cards. greg's card came up, alone. anstey was back in quarters with dick. chapter xiv friends who stand by "well?" cried dick, darting up, his eyes shining wildly when greg finally threw open the door. "oh, bosh!" cried greg jubilantly. "do you think those girls are going to believe anything against you?" "what did they say?" demanded dick eagerly. "well, of course they were dazed," continued greg. "in fact, mrs. bentley was the first to speak. what she said was one word, 'preposterous!'" "there's a woman aftah my own heart, suh," murmured anstey. "belle got her voice next," continued greg. "what she said was: "'you're wrong, mrs. bentley. it isn't even preposterous.'" "miss meade surely delighted me, the first time i ever saw her," murmured anstey. "laura looked down to hide a few tears," continued greg. "but she brushed them away and looked up smiling. 'i'm sorry, sorry, sorry for dick's temporary annoyance,' was what laura said. 'but of course i know such deceit would be impossible in him, so i shall stay here until i know that the military academy authorities and the whole world realize how absurd such a suspicion must be.'" "she's going to remain here?" faltered dick. "all three of 'em are. they couldn't be driven off the reservation by a file of infantry, just now. but both of the girls insisted on sending you a note. which will you have first?" "don't trifle with me, greg," begged prescott. anstey rose to go. "don't take yourself off, anstey old fellow. just pardon me while i read my notes." dick read laura's note through, thrilling with the absolute faith that it breathed: "dear dick: don't be uneasy about us, and don't worry about yourself, either. i couldn't express what i think about the charges, without having a man's license of speech! but you know all that i would write you. just keep up the good old gridley grit and smile for a few days. we are going to be here to attend that court-martial, and to give you courage from the gallery---but i don't believe you need a bit. faithfully, laura." belle's note was much shorter. it ran: "dear dick: what stupid ideas they have of comedy here at west point!" and, as belle knew that she wasn't and couldn't be dick's sweetheart, she had not hesitated to sign herself, "lovingly, belle." dick passed each note in turn to anstey. "your town suhtinly raises real girls!" was the southerner's quiet comment. dick felt like a new being. he was pacing the floor now, but in no unpleasant agitation. "did you impress the girls with the knowledge that i begged them to go to the hop tonight?" asked prescott, stopping short and eyeing greg. "did you think i'd forget half of my errand, old ramrod?" demanded holmes indignantly "i delivered your full request, backed by all that i could add. at first mrs. bentley and laura were shocked at the very idea. but belle broke in with: 'if we didn't go, it would look as if we were in mourning for some one. we're not. we're just simply sorry that a poor idea of a farce keeps dear old dick from being with us tonight. if we don't go, dick prescott will be more unhappy about it than anyone else in the wide world.'" "miss meade suhtinly doesn't need spectacles," murmured anstey. "she can see straight!" "so," continued greg, "i'm going to drag laura tonight, and anstey is going to do the same for belle." "and we'll suhtinly see to it that they have, outside of ourselves, of course, the handsomest men in the corps to dance with!" exclaimed anstey. "if any fine and handsome fellow even tries to get out of it, i'll call him out and fight him stiff, suh!" "i'm glad you have persuaded the girls to go," nodded dick cheerily. "that will give me a happier evening than anything else could do just now." "what will you do this evening, dick?" asked greg. "i? oh, i'll be busy---and contented at the same time. tell that to laura and belle, please." yet it was with a sense of weariness that dick turned out for supper formation. there were more pleasant greetings as he moved to his place in ranks, and that made him feel better for the moment. at his table at cadet mess he was amiably and cheerily included in all the merry conversation that flew around. then back to quarters dick went, and soon saw greg and anstey, looking their spooniest in their full-dress uniforms, depart on the mission of dragging. prescott hardly sighed as he moved over to the study table. he read over a score of times the notes the girls had sent him. then came an orderly, who handed in a telegram. dick opened this with nervous fingers. his eyes lit up when he found that it came from annapolis. the message read: _"dear old dick! you're the straightest fellow on earth! we know. don't let anybody get your goat!_" _"darrin and dalzell, third class, u.s. naval academy."_ "dear old gridley chums!" murmured the cadet, the moisture coming to his eyes. "yes, they should know me, if anyone does. those who know me best are all flocking to offer comfort. then---hang it!---i don't need any. when a fellow's friends all believe in him, what more is there to ask? but i wonder how the news reached annapolis? i know---belle has telegraphed dave. she knew he'd stand by me." it was a very cheery prescott to whom anstey and holmes returned. anstey could remain but an instant, but that instant was enough to cheer the virginian, the change in prescott was so great. in the few moments left before taps sounded, greg told his chum all he could of the hop, and of the resolute conduct of laura and belle in refusing absolutely to be downcast. "have you sent any word home?" asked greg. "to my father and mother? not a word! nor shall i, until this nightmare is all over," breathed dick fervently. "laura wanted to know," holmes explained. "of course mrs. bentley had to send some word to her husband, to account for their longer absence, but she cautioned dr. bentley not to let a word escape." to himself, as he reached up to extinguish the light, greg muttered: "i believe that unhanged scoundrel, dodge, will see to it that word reaches gridley!" in this conjecture holmes must have been correct, for, the next forenoon, there came a telegram, full of agony, from prescott's mother, imploring further particulars at once. mrs. prescott's dispatch mentioned a "rumor." "that's dodge's dirty work," growled holmes. "so that fastens the guilt of this whole thing upon him---the dirty dog!" yet how to fasten any guilt upon dodge? or how force from him any admission that would aid to free cadet prescott from the awful charge against him that had now been made official? that sunday, greg, besides paying a long visit in the hotel parlor, and seeing to the dispatch of dick's answer to his mother, also called, under permission, at the home of lieutenant topham, of the tactical department. prescott had decided to ask that officer to act as his counsel at the court-martial. prescott's case looked simple enough. nor did the judge-advocate of the court-martial need much time for his preparation of the case. the judge-advocate of a court-martial is the prosecuting officer. theoretically he is also somewhat in the way of counsel for the defence. it is the judge-advocate's duty to prosecute, it is also his duty to inquire into any particulars that may establish the innocence of the accused man. mr. topham at once consented to act as dick's counsel, and entered heartily into the case. "but i don't mind telling you, mr. prescott," continued lieutenant topham, as he was talking the matter over with dick in the latter's room, "that both sides of the case look to me, at present, like blank walls. it won't be enough to clear you of the charge as far as the action of the court goes. we must do everything in our power to remove the slightest taint from your name, or your position with your brother cadets will never be quite the same again." "i know that full well, sir," cadet prescott replied with feeling. "though the court-martial acquit me, if there lingers any belief among the members of the cadet corps that i was really guilty, then the taint would not only hang over me here, but all through my subsequent career in the army. it is an actual, all-around verdict of 'not guilty, and couldn't be,' that i crave sir." "you may depend upon me, mr. prescott, to do all in my power for you," promised lieutenant topham. chapter xv on trial by court-martial tuesday was the day for the court-martial. in the army there is little patience with the law's delays. a trial must move ahead as promptly as any other detail of the soldier's life. nothing can hinder a trial but the inability to get all the evidence ready early. in cadet prescott's case the evidence seemed so simple as to require no delay whatever. the weather had been growing warmer within a short time. when dick and greg awoke at sound of reveille, they heard the heavy rain no sign of daylight yet. when the battalion turned out and formed to march to breakfast a more dispiriting day could not be imagined. the rain was converting deep snow into a dismal flood. but dick barely noticed the weather. he was full of grit, burning with the conviction that he must have a full vindication today. it was when he returned to barracks and the ranks were broken, that dick discovered how many friends he had. fully twoscore of his classmates rushed to wring his hand and to wish him the best kind of good luck that day. yet at 7.55 the sections marched away to mathematics, philosophy or engineering, according to the classes to which the young soldiers belonged. then prescott faced a lonely hour in his room. "the fellows were mighty good, a lot of them," thought the accused cadet, with his first real sinking feeling that morning. "yet, if any straw of evidence, this morning, seems really to throw any definite taint upon me, not one of these same fellows would ever again consent to wipe his feet on me!" such is the spirit of the cadet corps. any comrade and brother must be wholly above suspicion where his honor is concerned. had dick been really guilty he would have been the meanest thing in cadet barracks. at a little before nine o'clock lieutenant topham called. to cadet prescott it seemed grimly absurd that he must now go forth in holiday attire of cadet full-dress uniform, white lisle gloves and all---to stand before the court of officers who were to decide whether he was morally fit to remain and associate with the other cadets. but it was the regulation that a cadet must go to court, whether as witness or accused, in full-dress uniform. "i'm going to do my best for you today, mr. prescott," declared lieutenant topham, as they walked through the area together. into the academic building counsel and accused stepped, and on to the great trial room in which so many cadets had met their gloomy fates. at the long table sat, in full-dress uniform, and with their swords on, the thirteen army officers of varying ranks who composed the court. at one side of the room sat the cadet witnesses. these were three in number. mr. dunstan and mr. gray were there as the two men who had occupied blackboards on either side of prescott the friday forenoon before. cadet dodge was there to give testimony concerning the handkerchief episode in the area of barracks before the sections had marched off to math. captain abbott, of course, was there, to testify to facts of his knowledge. never had there been a more reluctant witness than that same captain abbott, but he had his plain duty to do as an army officer detailed at the united states military academy. lieutenant topham and dick, on entering, had turned toward the table reserved for counsel. for a moment, dick prescott had raised his face to the gallery. there he beheld mrs. bentley, laura and belle, all gazing down at him with smiling, friendly faces. dick could not send them a formal greeting. but he looked straight into the eyes of each in turn. his smile was steady, clear and full of courage. his look carried in it his appreciation of their loyal friendship. among the visitors there were also the wives of a few army officers stationed on the post. nearly all of these knew prescott, and were interested in his fate. among the spectators up there was one heavily veiled woman whom dick could not see from the floor as he entered the room. nor did that woman, who had drawn back, intend that he should see her. the president of this court-martial called it promptly to order. the members of the court were sworn, then the judge-advocate took his military oath. it was then announced that the accused cadet wished to have lieutenant topham represent him as counsel. to this there was no objection. in a twinkling the judge-advocate was again on his feet, a copy of the charge and specifications in his hand. facing the president of the court, standing rigidly at attention, his face expressionless, his bearing every whit that of the soldier, cadet richard prescott listened to the reading of the accusation of dishonor. in an impressive tone the president of the court asked what plea the accused cadet wished to enter. "the accused offers, to the charge and specifications, a blanket plea of 'not guilty,'" replied lieutenant topham. captain abbott was first called and sworn. in concise, soldierly language the instructor told the events of the preceding friday forenoon. he described the dropping of the slip of paper, and of his request that it be handed to him. "the paper," continued the witness, "contained a crude, brief outline of the demonstration which mr. prescott had just explained so satisfactorily that i had marked him 2.9." "which is within one tenth of the highest marking?" suggested the judge-advocate. "yes, sir." "had you noted anything in mr. prescott conduct or performance at the blackboard that indicated any uncertainty, at any time, about the problem he was demonstrating?" "when he had gone a little way with the writing down of the demonstration," replied captain abbott, "mr. prescott hesitated for some moments, then asked permission to erase, which was given." "did he then go straight ahead with his work?" "to the best of my observation and remembrance, he did, sir." "had mr. prescott been doing well previously?" asked the judge-advocate. "only during the last week, sir. during the last week he displayed such a new knowledge and interest in mathematics that i was prepared, on his last week's marks, to recommend that he ascend two sections in his class." "is it not true, captain, that mr. prescott, in the last week, showed such a sudden, new proficiency as might be accounted for by the possibility that he had then begun to carry written 'cribs' to the class? "his progress last week was such as might be accounted for by that supposition," replied the witness reluctantly. "that is all, captain." lieutenant topham then took the witness in hand, but did not succeed in bringing out anything that would aid the cause of the accused cadet. "cadet dunstan!" called the judge-advocate. dunstan stepped forward and was sworn. he had testified that, during the blackboard work, he had stood beside mr. prescott. dunstan was positive that he had not seen any slip of paper in prescott's hands. "did you look his way often, mr. dunstan "not directly, sir; i was busy with my own work." "yet, had mr. prescott had a slip of paper held slyly in either hand, do you think you would have seen it? "i am positive that i would, sir," replied cadet dunstan. under the questioning of lieutenant topham, dunstan stated that he had witnessed prescott's loan of his handkerchief to dodge before the sections formed to march to mathematics section room. "in what condition, or shape, did mr. dodge return mr. prescott's handkerchief?" ask lieutenant topham. "the handkerchief was crumpled up, sir." "so that, had there been a paper folded in it, the paper very likely would not have been visible?" "the paper most likely would not have been visible, sir." "in what form was the handkerchief handed to mr. dodge by mr. prescott?" "i am almost certain, sir, that mr. prescott passed it holding it by one corner." "so that, had there been any paper in it at that time, it would have fallen to the ground?" "yes sir." "what did mr. prescott do with the handkerchief when it was returned to him." "my recollection, sir, is that mr. prescott took his handkerchief without examining it, and thrust it into his blouse." "are you sure that he did so?" "i cannot state it with absolute certainty, sir. it is my best recollection, sir." bert dodge had sat through this testimony trying to look unconcerned. yet around the corners of his mouth played a slight, greenish pallor. the testimony of the cadets had not been looked for to be very important. now, however, the president of the court regretted that he had not excluded from the room all of three cadet witnesses except the one under examination. cadet gray was next called. he was able to testify only that, while at the blackboard, mr. dunstan had stood on one side of cadet prescott and the present witness on the other side. mr. gray was strongly of the belief that, had prescott been slyly using a written crib, he (gray) would have noted the fact. mr. gray had not been a witness to the handkerchief-loaning incident before formation of sections. "cadet dodge!" dodge rose and came forward with a distinct swagger. he was plainly conscious of the cadet corporal's chevrons on his sleeve, and plainly regarded himself as a superior type of cadet. he was sworn and questioned about the handkerchief-borrowing incident. he admitted the borrowing of the handkerchief to wipe a smear of dirt from the back of his hand. as to the condition of the handkerchief at the time of its return, mr. dodge stated his present belief that the handkerchief was very loosely rolled up. then lieutenant topham took the witness over. "would the handkerchief, when you handed it back, have held this slip of paper?" questioned mr. topham, holding up the slip that had brought about all of prescott's present trouble. "it might have, sir, had the paper been crumpled as well." "did you hand the handkerchief back with a paper inside of it?" "not according to any knowledge of mine, sir." "was there a paper in the handkerchief, mr. dodge, when mr. prescott passed his handkerchief to you?" "to the best of my belief, sir, there was not." "now, pay particular heed, if you please mr. dodge," requested lieutenant topham, fixing his gaze keenly on the witness. dodge tried not to look apprehensive. "did you have any paper in your hand while you had mr. prescott's handkerchief in your own possession?" "no, sir," replied dodge with emphasis. "did you, knowingly, pass the handkerchief back to the accused cadet with any paper inside of it, or touching it in any way?" "no, sir!" lieutenant topham continued for some seconds to regard mr. dodge in silence. the witness began to lose some of his swagger. then, abruptly, as though firing a pistol, lieutenant topham shot out the question: "how about that smear of dirt on your hand, mr. dodge? how did it come to be on the back of your hand?" if mr. topham had looked to this question to break the witness down he was doomed to disappointment. "i do not know, sir," dodge replied distinctly. "i am of the opinion, sir, that it must have come from the blacking on one of my shoes as i put it on before leaving my room." there was no more to be gained from dodge. he was excused. now, dick prescott rose a was sworn, that he might testify in his own behalf. yet he could do no more, under the military rules of evidence, than to deny any guilty knowledge of the slip of paper, and to repeat the handkerchief-loaning recital substantially as dunstan had given it. this closed the testimony. the president of the court announced that a recess of ten minutes would be taken, and that the room and gallery would be cleared of all except members of the court and the counsel for the accused. as dick turned to leave, he again turned his face toward the gallery. he saw his gridley friends and looked bravely into their eyes, smiling. then he caught sight of a veiled woman up there, who had risen, and was moving out. dicks started; he could not help it, there was something so strangely familiar in that figure and carriage. the cadet witnesses had already left, and we returning to barracks. lieutenant topham touched prescott's arm and walked with him to the corridor. "i shall do my best for you, you may be sure, mr. prescott," whispered the cavalry officer. "may i ask, sir, what you think of the chances? "candidly, it looks to me like almost an even toss-up between conviction and acquittal." dick's face blanched. then he turned, with starts the veiled woman was moving toward him with uncertain steps. "lieutenant topham, i did not know my mother was to be present, but i am almost positive that is she." now, the veiled woman came a few steps nearer, looking appealingly at dick. "i am told, sir, that my son is in close arrest," she called, in a voice that thrilled the cadet. "but i am his mother. may i speak with him a moment?" mother and son were clasped in each other's arms for a moment. what they said matters little. then cadet richard prescott returned to his bleak room in barracks. chapter xvi a verdict and a hop then followed days full of suspense for many besides the accused cadet. prescott went mechanically at his studies, with a dogged determination to get high markings in everything. yet over mathematics more than anything, he pored. he fought out his problems in the section room grimly, bent on showing that he could win high marks without the aid of "cribs." he was still in arrest, and must remain so until the finding of the court-martial---whatever it was---had been duly considered at washington and returned with the president's indorsement. all this time dick's mother and three faithful gridley friends remained at the west point hotel. dick could not go to them; they could not come to him, but notes might pass. prescott received these epistles daily, and briefly but appreciatively answered them. then he went back furiously to his studies. grit could do him little good, except in his studies, if he were fated to remain at west point. grit could not help him in the settling of his fate. either the court-martial had found him guilty, or had found him innocent, and all the courage in the world would not alter the verdict. in the section room in mathematics, captain abbott did not show this cadet any disfavor or the opposite. the instructor's manner and tone with prescott were the same as with all the other cadets. when going to formations some of the cadets rather openly avoided prescott. this cut like a knife. but evidently they believed him probably guilty, and they were entitled to their opinions. he must possess himself with patience for a few days; there was nothing else to do. so the week rolled around again to saturday. now here were two afternoons when the young cadet might have gone to his mother and friends at the hotel, had he not been in arrest. there was to be a hop that night, but he could not "drag" the girl who had been so staunch and sweet. on this saturday, when he need not study much, dick found himself in a dull rage with his helplessness. the day was bright, clear, cold and sunny, but the young cadet's soul was dark and moody. would this suspense never end? dinner was to him merely another phase of duty. he had no real appetite; he would have preferred to sit brooding at his study table. the meal over, the battalion marched back, halting, still in formation, at the north side of barracks near the sally-port. the cadet captain in command of the battalion read some unimportant notices. dick did not even hear them. he knew his fate was not to come to him through this channel. while the reading was going on the adjutant of the military academy came through the sally-port leisurely, as soon as he saw that the men were still in ranks. dick did not see the adjutant, either. if he had, he might hardly have heeded the presence of that army officer, the personal representative of the superintendent. but, just as the cadet captain let fall the hand in which he had held the notices the adjutant called out crisply: "don't dismiss, captain! hold the companies!" between two of the companies stepped the adjutant, then walked to the front of center. drawing, a paper from his overcoat, the adjutant began to read. it was a "special order." even to this prescott listened only with unhearing ears---at first. then, though he betrayed no more audible interest than did any of the other men in gray, dick prescott found his head swimming. this special order referred to his own case. it was a report of the findings, these findings having been duly approved. cadet richard prescott's head began to whirl. the bright day seemed darkening before his dimmed vision, until he heard, unmistakably, the one word: "acquitted!" what followed was a further order releasing him from arrest and restoring him to the usual cadet privileges. "that is all, captain," added the adjutant, folding the order and returning it to his overcoat. "dismiss the companies when ready." "dismiss the companies!" came from the cadet battalion commander. the separate commands of the various company commanders rang out. ranks were broken---and friends in gray crowded about the yearling. then the corps yell was called for and given, with his name added. some of the cadets slipped in through the sally-port, sooner than join in the demonstration. "thank you all---it's jolly good of you!" cried prescott huskily. as soon as these comrades in arms would let him, he broke through and made for his room. "hooray!" yelled greg, turning loose. and cadet anstey thrust his head into the room long enough to add: "hooray!" but dick, half stripped above the waist, was at the washstand, making a thorough toilet, though a hurried one. greg waited, his eyes shining. "it's mighty good of you all," cried dick, as he was pulling on his cadet overcoat. "i wish i could stop and talk about it---but there a duties that can't be hurried fast enough." "give my regards," called holmes jovially after prescott. crossing the barracks area, dick strode into cadet guard-house, nimbly mounting the stairs to the second floor. here he stood in the office of the o.c. saluting, he carefully phrased his request for leave to visit friends at the hotel. this being granted, dick went down the stairs at the greatest speed consistent with military dignity under the circumstances. out through the north sally-port and along the road running between officers' quarters and parade ground he hurried. by the time he had walked to the hotel he had cooled off his first excitement somewhat. he signed in the cadet register, then laid down his card. "to mrs. prescott, please." as ebony-visaged "front" vanished from the office, dick turned and walked to the ladies' entrance, passing thence into the parlor. dick's mother was found at the dining table. so were her gridley friends. all were finishing a light meal without appetite when the card was laid by mrs. prescott's plate. "my boy, dick---here?" she cried brokenly rising as quickly as she could. mrs. prescott passed quickly from the dining room, though her friends were close at her heels. so they all rushed in upon the solitary young cadet standing inside the parlor by a window. as he heard them coming, dick wheeled about. there was a tear in his eye, which deceived them. halting, a few feet away, these eager ones stared at him. dick tried to greet them in words, but he couldn't at first. it was laura who found her voice first. "dick! tell us in a word!" but belle meade gave miss bentley a somewhat vigorous push forward. "use your eyes, laura!" rebuked belle vigorously. "in the first place, mr. prescott is here. that means he's here by permission or right. in the second place, you ninny---he still has the uniform on!" "that's right," laughed dick. "yes, mother, and friends, the court-martial's finding was wholly favorable to me." "humph!" demanded belle scornfully. "why shouldn't it be? wouldn't you expect thirteen old west point graduates to know as much as four women from the country?" belle's hearty nonsense put an end to all tension. mrs. prescott met and embraced her son. the others crowded about, offering congratulations. that night dick and greg "dragged" the gridley girls to the cadet hop at cullum, and anstey was a favored one on the hop cards of both girls. mrs. prescott and mrs. bentley looked on from the gallery. "it's the jolliest hop i've been to," declared dick with enthusiasm. "humph!" muttered holmes. "of course it is. you old boner, you've never been but to three hops! "i understand," teased belle, "that you're much more of a veteran, mr. holmes, than your chum is." cadet dodge "missed" that hop. chapter xvii "a liar and a coward" long, indeed, did the memory of that hop linger with cadet dick prescott. it had come as the fitting, cheering ending of his great trouble---the hardest trouble that had assailed him, or could assail him, at the united states military academy. "well, you've been vindicated, anyway," muttered greg cheerily, one day. "so you needn't look as thoughtful as you do half of the time these present days." "have i been vindicated, greg?" asked dick gravely. "what did the court say? and you're still wearing the uniform that uncle sam gave you, aren't you? "vindication, greg, means something more that a court-martial verdict of acquittal." "what more do you want?" "greg, the verdicts of all the courts-martial sitting between here and manila wouldn't make some of the men of this corps believe that i innocent." "g'wan!" retorted cadet holmes impatiently. "i see it, greg, old chum, if you don't." "you're morbid, old ramrod!" "greg, you know the cheery greeting, in passing, that one man here often gives another when he likes and trusts that man. well, some of own classmates that used to give me the glad hail seem to be thinking about something else, now, when they pass me." "who are they?" demanded greg, his fists doubling. "you'd provoke a fight, if i told you," retorted dick. "this isn't a matter to fight about." "then you don't know much about fighting subjects," grumbled cadet holmes, as he leaned back and opened his book of everlasting mathematics. "let me see, greg; have you any show to get out of the goats in math.?" "i'm in hopes to get out and step into the next section above," replied greg. "i've been working hard enough." "then you'd better waste no thoughts on pugilism. calculus will bring you more happiness." "calculus was never designed to bring anyone happiness," retorted greg sulkily. "it's a torment invented on purpose to harrow the souls of cadets. what good, any way, will calculus ever be to an officer who has a platoon of men to lead in a charge on the enemy?" this could not very well be answered, so dick dodged the subject. "remember the january exams., old fellow," warned dick. "and the general review begins monday. that will show you up, if you don't keep your nose in math. and out of books on the queensbury rules." "funny how bert dodge keeps up in mathematics, and yet takes in all the pleasures he can find," rumbled on greg, as he turned the pages of his book, seeking what he wanted. "dodge is in the section just under the stars, and i hear he has dreams of being in the star section after the january ordeals." "dodge always was a rather good student at gridley high school" rejoined prescott. "but he never led our class there in the high school mathematics, which is baby's play compared with west point math." "well, he gets the marks now," sighed dick. "i wish we could, too." the academic part of the cadet's year is divided into two halves. the first half winds up in january. during the last few weeks before the period for the winter examination, there is a general review in some of the subjects, notably in mathematics. this general review brings out all of a man's weak points in his subject. incidentally, it should strengthen him in his weak points. now, if, in the general review, a cadet shows sufficient proficiency in his subject, he is not required to take the examination. if he fails in the general review in mathematics, he must go up for a "writ," as a written examination is termed. and that writ is cruelly searching. if the young man fails in the "writ," he may be conditioned and required to make up his deficiencies in june. if, in june, he fails to make up all deficiencies, he is dropped from the cadet corps as being below the mental standards required of a west point graduate. neither dick nor greg stood high enough in mathematics to care to go on past january conditioned. both felt that, with conditions extending over to the summer, they must fail in june. "i'd sooner have my funeral held tomorrow than drop out of west point," greg stated. prescott, while not making that assertion, knew that it would blast his dearest hopes life if he had to go down in the academic battle. dodge, who was so high in mathematics that he need have little fear, was circulating a good deal among his classmates these days before christmas. "that hound, prescott, made a slick dodge to drag me into his disgrace," dodge declared, to those whom he thought would be interest in such remarks. "it was a clever trick! couldn't put me in disgrace, for there is no breach of regulations in borrowing a handkerchief for a moment. but prescott made so much of that handkerchief business that it served his purpose and dragged him out safely before the court." "do you think prescott was really guilty of a crib?" asked one of dodge's hearers. "i can't prove it, but i know what i think," retorted dodge. "his effort to draw me into the row shows what kind of a fellow he is at bottom." "i'd hate to think that prescott would really be mean enough for a crib." "think what you like, then, of course. but a fellow guilty of one meanness might not stop at others." dodge talked much in this vein. cadets are not tale-bearers, and so little or none of this talk reached dick's ears until furlong came along, one day, in time to hear dodge holding forth on his favorite subject. yearling furlong halted, eyeing cadet dodge sternly, keenly. "well," demanded dodge, "what's wrong?" "i don't know exactly," replied furlong, with a quizzical smile. "i think, though, that the basic error lay in your ever having been born at all." dodge tried to laugh it off as a pleasantry. he had met furlong once, in a fight, and had no desire to be sent to cadet hospital again with blackened eyes. "i don't want to mind other people's business, dodge," continued furlong coolly, "but you're going a bit too far, it seems to me, in what you say about prescott. why should you seek to blacken the character of one of our best fellows, and the president of our class?" "because he tried to blacken mine," retorted dodge boldly. "he didn't. all he did, at the court-martial, was to explain the adventures of his handkerchief just before that piece of paper fell to the floor of the section room." "wasn't that an insinuation against me?" demanded cadet dodge. "not unless your character here is on such a very poor foundation that it can't stand any suspicions," replied furlong coldly. "now, see here, dodge, the general review is on, and prescott can't spare any time on private rows. after the general review is over, if i hear any more about your roasting prescott, i'm going to call on you to go with me to prescott's presence, and repeat your statements to his face. i don't want to stir up any needless personal trouble, dodge, but i declare myself now as one of old ramrod's friends. any slander against him must be backed up. i trust you will pardon my having been so explicit." furlong turned on his heel, striding away. the cadets to whom dodge had been talking bitterly looked at bert curiously. a good many men in the corps would have promptly resented such remarks as furlong's, and to the limit, by calling him out. "queer how many friends, of some kinds, a fellow like prescott can have," laughed dodge sneeringly. "not at all," spoke up one of dodge's listeners. "everyone always knows where prescott stands, and he'll back up anything he says. furlong is another man of the same stamp." with that the last speaker turned on his heel and walked away. for some days after that, bert dodge was more careful of his utterances. the general reviews came and passed. by sheer hard, undistracted work, both dick and greg succeeded in pulling through without having to go up for writs. for some reason dodge did not do quite as well in the general review, and was forced to drop down a couple of sections. he still stood well, however, in math. in the next week after the dangerous examination period dick prescott began to forge upwards in mathematics. he was now in the section fourth removed from the goats, and greg was up in the section next above the goats. on the afternoon of the friday when the markings had been posted dodge met dennison, also of the yearling class. "say, what do you think, dodge, of prescott beginning to shoot up through the sections toward you? he'll soon be marching at your side when math. is called." "he'll bear watching," nodded dodge sagely. "that's what i feel about it," replied dennison. "prescott isn't the kind of man who can climb high in mathematics, and do it honestly," continued dodge. "either he has the old crib at work again, or has hit on a safer way of working crib." "of course he has," nodded dennison. "we ought to post the class---especially prescott own section comrades. they can catch him, if they're sharp, and then pass the word through the class without bothering the authorities. if prescott is doing such things he must be driven from west point." "he will be---see if he isn't," retorted bert sullenly. "i'm going to pass the word to the class." "and i'll post the men in the same section with him," promised dennison. "why not post prescott first?" demanded a cold voice. a cadet had halted behind the pair. "oh, you, furlong?" snarled dodge, turning. "yes," replied cadet furlong. "and i told you, on a former occasion, what i thought about back-biters." "be careful, furlong!" warned dennison angrily. "at your service, sir, any time," coolly replied furlong, though he was a head shorter than dennison, who was one of the big athletes of the yearling class. "but the class ought to know some truths," retorted dodge harshly. "here comes some of the class now," replied furlong, as seven yearlings, on their way back from the library, turned in at the sally-port. "tell them for a start, dodge, and i'll listen. hold on there, fellows. oh, you there, prescott? that's lucky. dodge has some 'facts' he thinks the class ought to know, and i want you to hear them. now, dodge, turn around and repeat what you were just saying." there was no help for it. dodge had to speak up, or be considered a cur that bit only in the dark. so, with a show of defiance, dodge spoke hotly giving a very fair repetition of what he had lately said. prescott stood by, his fists clenched, his face white, but without interrupting or making any move. "now, state what you said, mr. dennison," requested furlong coldly. thus cornered, dennison, too, had to state truthfully what he had just been saying. there was a pause. some of the yearlings looked straight ahead. others glanced curiously at the principals in this little drama of cadet life. none of them took furlong to be anything more than the stage manager. "have you said all you have to say, mr. dodge?" demanded cadet prescott. "yes," flared bert. "have you anything that you wish to add, mr. dennison?" demanded dick, wheeling upon his other foe in the corps. "nothing more, at present," replied dennison coolly. he realized how much bigger and more powerful he was than dick prescott. "then, as for you, mr. dodge," continued prescott, fixing his old-time enemy with a cold eye, "you're a liar and a coward!" dodge doubled his fists, springing forward, but two of the yearlings caught him and dragged him back, for old ramrod's back was already turned. dick was eyeing his other detractor. "you, mr. dennison," continued prescott, "are a dirty scandal-monger, a back-biter and a source of danger to the honor of the cadet corps!" chapter xviii the fight in barracks "let go of me!" roared dennison, as two men held him. "let me at that-----" "any name that you would see fit to call me, dennison, wouldn't sting," retorted dick. "you have forfeited the right to have your opinion considered a gentleman's." "don't you ever call names?" hissed dennison. "only to the faces of the men to whom the names are applied," retorted dick. "and that's right," agreed furlong heartily. "we've been classmates nearly two years, and i've heard old ramrod say disagreeable things, once or twice, behind men's backs. but it was never until after he had said the same thing to the man's face." "this isn't fair," fussed dennison, "to hold me back after i've been insulted." by this time, half a dozen more cadets had stopped. three of the newest comers were yearlings, one was a second classman and two were first classmen. "will you let me act as one of your friends, old ramrod?" asked cadet furlong. "i think you've proved your right, on this and other occasions," laughed dick quietly. "go ahead, please, milesy." "this is not place for a fight," continued furlong, "and this crowd had better break up, or we shall be seen and there'll be an inquiry from the tactical department. as prescott's friend, i will say that he is prepared to give full satisfaction to both men. in fact, if they didn't demand it, he would." before so many, bert dodge had to appear brave. "i demand the first meeting for satisfaction," bert insisted. "and i think you may count on getting the first meeting," nodded furlong coolly. "now, mr. dodge, to whom shall i look as your friend?" "let me act!" begged dennison hoarsely. "go ahead, dennison," replied dodge, who felt that he would draw some comfort from having this big athlete of the class for a backer. "now, break up, please, gentlemen," begged furlong. "we don't want and wind of this to blow to official quarters. dennison, i invite you to come to my room." like soldiers dismissed from ranks, the sudden gathering in the sally-port dispersed. dick went on to his own quarters. "now, that's what i call huge!" chuckled greg holmes, as soon as he heard the news. "but see here, old ramrod, i'm to be your other second?" "of course," nodded dick. "then i'm off for furlong's room at once. and again---hooray!" there being nothing to prevent a prompt meeting, it was arranged to take place that evening at 8.30. in the subdivision where furlong lived there was an empty room up on the plebe floor. sharp to the minute of 8.30 the men were at hand. packard, of the first class, had agreed to act as referee. maitland, second class, held the watch. dodge and prescott were in their corners, stripped for the fray. nelson, of the third class, was dodge's other second. both men looked in fine condition as they waited for the referee to call the bout. both had received the same amount of bodily training, some of it under captain koehler at the gymnasium, and a good deal more of it in infantry, cavalry, artillery and other drills. over the chests and between the shoulder blades of both men were pads of supple muscles. both men were strong of arm, though neither too heavy with muscle to be quick and active. "gentlemen," announced referee packard, "this fight is to be to a finish, with bare hands. rounds, two minutes each. time between rounds one minute. there will be no preliminary handshaking. are you ready, gentlemen?" "ready!" quivered dodge. "ready," softly replied prescott, a smile hovering over his lips. "time!" dodge came forward nimbly, his head well down and his guards well placed. prescott was straighter, at the outset, and his attitude almost careless, in appearance. dick had been a clever fighter back in the old high school days. dodge, since coming to west point, had vastly improved both in guard and in offence. it was dodge who led off. he was not by any means a physical coward, and possessed a good deal of the cornered kind of courage of the fighting rat. dodge's first two or three blows were neatly parried. then he began to mix it up in a lively way, and three heavy blows landed on dick's body. but dodge didn't get back out of it unscathed. one hard thump on his chest, in particular, staggered him. then at it again went both men, fire in dodge's eye, mockery in dick's. the blows fell fast and furious, until the lookers-on wanted to cheer. there was little of foot work, little of getting away. it was heavy, forceful give-and-take until failing wind compelled both men to draw back. they kept at it, but sparring for wind until the call of time came. both men were then hustled back into their corners, sponged, kneaded, fanned. a minute was mighty short time in which to recover fighting trim from such mauling as had been exchanged. "time!" biff, bump, pound! it was the style of fighting that dodge was forcing, and it had to be met. yet all the time dick was alert, watching for a chance to land a stinging blow somewhere except on the torso. just before the close of the second round prescott thought he saw his chance. feinting with his left, he drove in a hook with his right, aimed for bert's nose. it touched, instead, on the lip, not a hard blow, but a tantalizing one. as the men drew back at the call of time a blotch of red was seen on bert's lower lip. when he came back for the third round, that lip was puffing fast. "third round, time!" again bert dodge started in with his heavy body tactics. but this time dick himself changed the style. with swift, clever foot-work he danced all around his now furious opponent. dodge could follow the swift style, too, however, and defended himself, finally coming back with the assault. half way through the round dick received a sharp tap on his nose that brought the red. stung, prescott became only the cooler. for some time he fought for the opening that he wanted, and got it at last, though dodge's guarding left prevented the blow from landing with quite all the force with which it had been driven. dick's middle knuckles raked that already swollen lip, but the lower knuckles landed against the tip of dodge's jaw with a force which, while not complete, nevertheless sent bert to the floor, where he lay on his side. "one, two, three, four-----" began maitland, his gaze on the slipping second hand of his watch. "take the full count, bert!" warned dennison. "nine, ten!" finished maitland. in that instant dodge was on his feet again, head down and working with great caution. "time!" the third round ended ere prescott could put in any finishing touches. yet, under the skillful hands of his seconds, dodge came up rather smilingly at the call for the opening of the fourth. there was almost murder in dodge's eyes now. he felt that he was the better man, and yet he had been getting slightly the worst of it so far. but he would show them! yet, after forty seconds of this work, when dodge had just let fly a blow intended to land over prescott's heart, his fist touched only air and he lurched forward. in the same instant dick swung a smashing blow on bert's left ear. bert went down, lying there like a log. in the silence that followed the finish of the count, and the referee's awarding words, dick prescott's voice broke in, as soft and cool as ever: "in fifteen minutes, mr. dennison, i'll be ready for _you_!" chapter xix mr. dennison's turn is served furlong sprang forward to protest. "see here, old ramrod, don't be foolish." "i can handle it as well tonight as at any time," dick laughed as coolly as ever. "but you've taken a lot of punishment." "fifteen minutes is all i need, with seconds like you and greg." "will it be fair to yourself, prescott?" demanded packard. "wholly," replied dick unconcernedly. "let him alone," urged greg. "old ramrod always knows what he's doing." "i'm not sure that we can get dodge out of here and attended to, and be already for the start in fifteen minutes," replied packard. "fifteen, twenty, twenty-five," insisted dick. "whatever time is necessary, so that we start in time to be through before taps." "what do you say, dennison?" asked packard. "i? oh, i'll be ready," grinned the athlete. "will you serve dennison?" asked packard, turning to nelson "yes; of course." "then, nelson, confer with dennison and see whom he wants to serve with you. the rest of us will work over dodge. whew! look that ear puff up while you watch it!" "beauty, isn't it?" asked greg grimly. "it will be a cauliflower decoration, all right." nelson went scurrying, soon returning with anderson. any yearling would gladly have served tonight, in order to see what doughty dick prescott would do against his second man in the same evening. with nelson and anderson came two other yearlings who had agreed to see dodge safely to the door of cadet hospital. bert dodge had been brought around at last. he was a bit dazed, but he grinned, as he went out, when dennison murmured in his ear: "never you mind, old man. i'll take care of prescott. i'll twist the ramrod into a figure 8." "we must proceed as promptly as possible, gentlemen," rapped out mr. packard. "we must be finished before taps." "dennison will be finished, by that time," muttered greg in a cheerful undertone. holmes had never provoked a senseless fight. he was good-natured almost to a fault. yet, when a fight became inevitable, greg could act as principal or second with equal cheeriness. nelson had brought back with him togs for dennison, and that athlete was quickly ready. every minute of the time had been utilized well in getting, dick prescott in condition for his second scrap of the evening. his nose-bleed had been stopped, but it was wind and lung power that he wanted most. he had taken some heavy body thumping, but rest and rubbing had worked out most of the soreness. "get up and kick a bit. see what you can do," advised furlong. dick went through a few irregular gymnastics. "there's one good thing about old ramrod," declared greg, in a grinning undertone. "he's always ready, every minute of the time!" sharply, quickly, now, the combatants were brought face to face. at the call of time, dennison sailed in; dick leaped forward. dennison was amused, more than half contemptuous over the easiness of the work that he thought had come to him. but he felt in honor bound to make the thing short. in the first place, he had to avenge dodge. in the second place, it would reflect upon himself if dennison allowed prescott to string the battle out. some sharp cracks were given and taken, and many more dodged or struck aside, when, up close to the end of the first round, prescott landed one between the big fellow's eyes that made him see stars. right in close prescott followed, before his opponent could recover. but the time-keeper's call prevented further doings. "he's a mosquito, that's all," growled denison to nelson, in the corner. "go in and swat him, then," grinned nelson. "watch me!" "remember, then, that skeeters are dodgers." "i'll saw him off, this time," grumbled the big fellow. the call of time brought both men forward. but dick, the same quiet smile on his face, had planned new tactics with furlong during that minute's rest. now, dick struck dennison, not very heavily, on the right shoulder. the next time it was a tap on the right chest. dennison strove to resent these indignities, but prescott had a definite plan of sustained assault, and the big fellow could not read it in advance. twice dick got caught by swings, though he was not sadly troubled. he was lanching in, lightly, all over the less vital parts on his man now. it did dennison no harm, but the impudence of it stung the big fellow. "time!" "that's the b.j.-est skeeter i ever saw," grinned nelson, as he sprayed water over dennison's biceps. "you quit, nelse!" "all right. don't get mad at me. just catch prescott on your face and mash him!" again the men were called to the center of the room. they eyed each other, "measured arms" in a few useless passes, then settled down to business. on dick's part that business was to dodge about as before, touching lightly here and there. dennison's effort was to swing in one hard, sufficient blow. just thirty-five seconds from the start of the round dick found his opportunity, and took it. his right smashed in fearfully on the end of the big fellow's jaw bone, just under the ear. bump! dennison's big, muscular body hit the floor like the falling of a tree. maitland counted, for he knew the big fellow couldn't rise in ten seconds after a blow like that. "nine, ten," finished the time-keeper, and dropped his watch into his pocket. "i award the fight to mr. prescott," announced packard. "now, what are we going to do with this big hulk?" that was a problem. it would hardly do to take another cadet to hospital that night. anyway dennison would need a stretcher, and four cadets to carry him, for he still lay on the floor in a stupor, from which the usual methods of reviving a man after a knockout failed to bring him. it was just ten minutes before taps when dennison was finally brought around and helped to his feet. "where's prescott?" asked dennison, after he had gulped down a glass of water. "here," answered dick, stepping forward. "prescott, i don't suppose i'm very clear headed yet," rambled on dennison. "but i want to apologize for my words this afternoon. and---i'm glad you whacked me right tonight. perhaps i'll really learn something from it. but my apologies, anyway." "say no more," begged dick, tendering his hand. "it is all forgotten." dick received hasty congratulations from the late officials of the fights. then they, and prescott and his friends, disappeared quickly to quarters. dennison was helped to his room. when the subdivision inspectors went through with their bulls-eye lanterns immediately after taps, they found all present save cadet albert dodge. dodge passed a painful couple of hours until opiates won out and he passed into drugged sleep. in one respect dodge got far less out of the fight than had dennison. bert had not even learned, convincingly, that prescott was a man to let alone. chapter xx a discovery at the riding drill having once got a hard gait in mathematics, dick went steadily on and up until he reached one of the middle sections. there he stopped. it was as high as he could go, with all this competition from the brightest young men in the country. greg, too, managed to get well away from the goats, and so was happy. through the winter the yearlings, in detachments, had attended the riding hall regularly during the afternoons. most of the men, as spring came along, had proven themselves very good cadet horsemen, though all would have chance to learn more during the two years yet ahead of them. dodge, who rode in the same detachment with dick and greg, was credited with being the poorest rider in the class. "when you get to be an officer, mr. dodge, you'll have to take the yearly walking test for three days. you'll get over the ground quicker and safer than you would on a horse," remarked the cadet corporal. "oh, well, sir, i'm going into the doughboys, anyway," grinned dodge. "it will be a good many years before i can get up far enough in the line to be called upon to ride a horse." the "doughboys" are the united states infantry. no company officer in the infantry mounted; only the field and staff officers of the doughboys are provided with mounts. one cloudy friday afternoon cadet corporal haskins marched a yearling detachment down to the riding hall. captain hall, their instructor, was already in saddle. he turned to receive the report of haskins after the detachment had been halted at the edge of the tan-bark. "stand to horse!" ordered captain hall. the men of the detachments sprang over, each leading out his mount for the afternoon. "prepare to mount!" instantly each young man stood with one foot in stirrup, one hand at the animal's mane, and one at saddle. "mount!" in perfect unison the yearling cadets swung themselves up into saddle, their right feet searching for and then resting in the stirrup boxes. then, at the command, haskins led his men out in single file. thus they circled the riding hall twice at a walk. "trot!" came captain hall's command. a few rounds of this was followed by the command, "gallop!" around and around the hall the cadets rode, every man but one feeling the blood tingling with new life through his arteries. it was glorious to stride a horse and to ride at this gait! glorious, that is, for all except one man. dodge rode at the tail end of the line, on a fiend of a horse that had proven disastrous to more than one green rider. as the "gallop" was ordered, dodge's mount showed a longing to bolt and dash up to the head of the line. dodge, throbbing uneasily, reined in hard. his horse began to chafe as it found itself forced back. in another moment dodge was lagging behind. "keep the pace, mr. dodge! keep the pace, sir!" called out captain hall. bert obeyed, but in fear. he did not know at what instant this uneasy animal would rear and unhorse him. at last the detachment was halted and the line faced about. now the detachment rode in reverse direction around the tan-bark. by this means dodge became the leader. through the walk and the trot, he managed to get along all right, though he was nervous. "stick to your saddle, mr. dodge!" called captain hall. "don't bump it, sir. settle down and ride steadily." then, an instant later, just as dodge was beginning to feel secure: "gallop!" dodge's wild mount gave a snort, then bolted. "whoa, you unruly beast!" roared dodge. behind him rode the detachment, grimly merry, though with not a flicker of a smile showing. bert's horse pulled away, and bolted, with dodge tugging at the bridle. greg, riding behind him, endeavored to bridge the gap. "steady, mr. holmes!" shouted the cavalry instructor. "you may set the pace until mr. dodge regains control of his mount." straight around the tan-bark went dodge and his mount, until the animal was in danger of colliding with haskins' mount. "hard on your off rein, mr. dodge! swing out into the center and bring your horse down!" ordered captain hall sternly. bert managed to swing out of the line, but that was all. he shot along on the inside, for the horse seemed to have a notion that it was racing the entire detachment, lap by lap. "have you utterly lost control of your horse, mr. dodge?" shouted captain hall. plainly enough the young man had, for, at that moment, the beast, its mouth sore from the continued tugging against the bits, slackened its pace, then plunged on its forefeet, throwing its heels high in the air. with a gasp of terror dodge struck the tan-bark, one shoulder landing first. but he still retained the bridle, and was dragged. the vicious animal wheeled, rearing, and its fore-feet came down aimed at dodge's face. dick prescott was the nearest cadet horseman at this moment. suspecting what might happen, prescott had swung his own mount sharply out of line, riding straight after dodge. "drop your bridle!" called dick sternly. then, just as dodge's horse was bringing its fore-feet down, prescott rode against the angry animal, striking it against the flank and shoving it sideways and back. the brute's forefeet struck the tan-bark, but more than two feet from dodge's head. bert had presence of mind enough to roll to one side. in an instant prescott was down out of saddle, holding his own splendidly disciplined mount by the bridle while he bent over his class-mate. dodge lay on the tan-bark, his uniform awry and dirty, and his face blanched with fear of the horse. "are you much hurt, dodge?" asked dick. "no, confound you!" muttered bert under his breath. as if to prove his lack of injury, he sat up, then rose to his feet. "mount, mr. prescott, and join the line," noting all with quick eyes. "mr. dodge, recapture your horse, mount and fall in." that was the discipline of the tan-bark. if a cadet falls from a horse and has no bones broken, or no other desperate injury, he must wait until his horse comes around, catch it and mount again. if the horse be excited and fractious, all the more reason why the cadet should capture the beast and mount instantly. a horse must always be taught that a cavalryman is his master. the riderless brute had fallen in at the tail of the line now, behind cadet corporal haslins, and was going along peaceably enough---until bert dodge made a lunge for the bridle. then the beast shied, and got past. "run after your horse, mr. dodge; catch him and mount him," called captain hall, fuming that this episode should steal away drill time from the other more capable young horsemen. "mr. dodge," rapped out the cavalry instructor sharply, after bert had made two more efforts to get hold of the bridle, "are you waiting for a groom to bring your horse to you?" at this some of the pent-up merriment broke loose. half a dozen yearlings chuckled aloud. "silence in ranks!" ordered the instructor sharply. then, patiently, though with more that a tinge of rebuke in his tone, the captain added: "mr. dodge, you've taken all the time we can spare you, sir. catch that horse instantly and mount!" by sheer good luck bert managed to obey. but his nerve was gone for the afternoon. he made a sad bungle of all the work, though he was not again unhorsed. there was bareback riding, and riding by pairs, in which latter feat one man of each pair passed his bridle to the comrade beside him, then rode with folded arms. then came riding by threes, with the center man holding the bridles from either side, while each of the outer men rode with folded arms. then, cautiously, the men were taught to stand on the bare backs of their horses and to move at a walk. by and by they would be required to ride, standing, at a gallop. all through this drill, dick prescott rode with precision, power, and even grace. yet never had his mind been further from the present work than it was this afternoon. had bert dodge known more of what prescott had seen as the former lay for that instant on the tan-bark, dick's enemy would have fallen from his horse in a delirium of fear. for, as bert fell in the center of the tan-bark the left sleeve of his coat had been pushed back, exposing the white linen cuff. from the inner hem of that cuff, up to the middle, dick prescott had gazed, for an instant only, on row after row of small, evenly lettered words or rows of numerals. prescott had not had time to bend close enough to see which. yet no sooner had dick vaulted back into saddle again than the remembrance of that cuff flashed upon him. "dodge has been excelling in daily recitations, yet can't do as well at general review!" flashed hotly through prescott's mind. "and dodge, the high-souled one who loathes cribs! if that writing on his cuff isn't a crib of today's math., then i'm a plebe!" the thought would not down, even for a moment. dick became wilder in his thoughts the more he thought about it. "the cribber! and he sought to blast me here on a false charge of cribbing. for now i know in my soul that he put that paper crib in my handkerchief that friday morning months ago!" dick's indignation, as he rode, was more than personal. true, he longed to show up the sneak who had nearly wound up another and honest cadet's career here at west point. but there was an even higher purpose in prescott's mind at the same time. the corps of cadets loathes a cribber as it does any other kind of cheat or liar. it is justly regarded as a moral crime for any cadet, knowing another to be a sneak, stand by and silently allow that sneak to graduate into the brotherhood of the army. "dodge, you cur, every minute, now, is bringing you nearer your own merited disgrace," muttered dick savagely. "as soon as this detachment is dismissed at barracks i'll denounce you before all the fellows. i'll insist that you expose that cuff---and you'll have to do it!" once prescott caught himself wondering whether he might not fail through being too hasty. was it barely possible that the writing on bert dodge's left cuff was wholly innocent? "no! i'm not making any mistake, and i'll prove it to my own satisfaction!" throbbed this cadet who had waited patiently all these months for complete vindication before the corps. never had dick known such relief at being dismissed from riding drill. the detachment formed under haskins' orders, and marched up the road from riding hall, across the street to the academic building, and then, with corporal haskins still at the head, turned in at the east sally-port. but here, right at the entrance to the port, stood chaplain montgomery. "corporal haskins," called the chaplain, as he returned the cadet officer's smart salute, "will you excuse mr. prescott that i may speak with him? "mr. prescott, fall out!" came haskins' command. with a feeling of horror and anguish dick fell out, saluting chaplain montgomery, for the chaplain, though an ordained minister of the church, was also, by virtue of his post of chaplain, a captain of the united states army. on moved the detachment, the feet of the cadets moving at a rhythmic beat as these perfect young soldiers moved on across the barracks area. and all chaplain montgomery had to say to cadet prescott was to tell him in which bound file of a magazine at the y.m.c.a. could be found an article about which dick had asked the churchman a fortnight before. dick returned thanks, though he meant no disrespect to the kindly chaplain. then, saluting, he hurried on after the detachment. but more than a fatal minute had been lost at the sally-port, and now the detachment was dismissed. the men had been in their rooms for at least forty-five seconds. "no use to go to dodge now!" thought dick despondently. "whether he knows that i saw that cuff or not, he has removed it and has it safely hidden by this time. oh, if chaplain montgomery could have been a hundred yards further away at that moment!" it was no use to lament. dick concluded to wait and bide his time. the chance might yet come to catch bert dodge red handed. "though, if he suspects that i saw his exposed cuff, he'll take pains that there is not further chance!" decided cadet prescott. after that he went to his room, where he told greg what he had discovered. "it's suspicious---mightily so," declared holmes. "but it isn't proof---not yet!" nevertheless, greg, once he had heard, could not get the matter out of his mind either! chapter xxi pitching for the army nine "dick, old fellow, this is going to be a gridley day for us! it will carry us back to the good old high school days!" cadet greg holmes was radiant as he moved about their room in quarters that saturday morning while preparing for the call to breakfast formation. until one o'clock these young men of west point would be busy in the section rooms, as on other week days. but the afternoon of saturday belonged to pleasure---on this saturday to sport! lehigh university was sending over the strongest baseball nine it could put up, in the effort to beat west point on the military academy's diamond. "it'll seem just like good old gridley high school days," repeated greg. "yes," smiled dick darkly, "with the same rascal, bert dodge, to keep my thoughts going." "dodge won't be in the game, anyway." "he wasn't much in gridley, either," smiled dick darkly. "oh, well, forget him until the game is over." morning recitations passed off as usual. it was when the cadets came back from dinner, first, there was a brief inspection, after which cadets, with leave to visit the west point hotel, or officers' homes, strolled away to meet young women friends. "i'm due to be only a rooter today," sigh greg, as he saw his roommate start off to the gym to meet the other members of the nine. "your luck may change," rejoined dick. "you'd better go along to the gym. you're the sub. shortstop, you know, and meacham may not be on deck. better come along, now." "i will, then; i wasn't going over until just before time to get into togs and sit on the bench." up to this time, neither prescott nor holmes had judged their academic standing to be good enough to make it safe for them to enter into sports. this winter and spring, however, had found them "safe" enough for them to go into training with the baseball squad. dick had tried for the position of pitcher, but kennedy had been chosen, while prescott had gone to second base. tatham was the sub. pitcher. "say, have you seen the lehighs?" demanded furlong, as the chums joined the crowd at the gym. "they're big fellows. they weigh a ton and a half to our ton." "lightness and speed count for more than beef in this game," smiled prescott. "lehigh has sent some huskies, all right, and they look as if they'd give us a tough battle." in baseball and football west point plays college teams. the college men are generally older and much heavier. besides, the college men, not having the same intense grind at their institutions, are able to devote four or five times as much actual time to the work of training. despite these handicaps, the west point team generally holds its own end up very well indeed. the west point men have one advantage; they are always in training, for which reason their bodily condition is always good. it is in the finer points of the technique of the game that the united states military cadets suffer from less practice. maitland, of the second class, was captain of the team this year. he was a much disturbed man when dick and greg reached the gym. "what ails maitland?" dick asked furlong. "haven't you heard? kennedy is a great tosser, but he has his bad days when his wrist goes stale. and tatham, the sub., fought his way through a poor dinner, but then he had to give up and go to hospital. he's threatened with some kind of fever, we hear. that leaves us without a sub. today." "oh, does it?" thought prescott. with quick step and eager eye he sought captain maitland, who was also catcher for the nine. "mr. maitland, i understand you're without a satisfactory sub. pitcher for today?" "confound it, yes; we're praying for the strength of kennedy's wrist." "you may remember that i tried for pitcher." "i know you did," replied maitland gloomily. "but the coaches thought kennedy and tatham ahead of you." "if kennedy should go bad today," pressed dick eagerly, "i trust you will be willing order me in from second to the box. i know that i won't disappoint you. ebbett and dunstan are both good men at second." captain maitland looked thoughtful. "i'm afraid, prescott, if kennedy does happen to go stale, we'll have to call on you." "i won't disappoint you, if you do, captain!" then maitland turned to regard meacham, who was entering at that moment. "what on earth ails you, meacham?" demanded the worried captain of the nine. "i was at a loot party last night," confessed meacham miserably. "overeating yourself---when you're in training, man?" "honestly, maitland, i didn't believe the little that i put down was going to throw me. there wasn't a murmur until eleven this morning, and i felt sure that was going to work off. but it won't, and, oh, my!" west point's shortstop put his hands over his belt line, looking comically miserable. but to captain maitland there was no humor in the situation. "you're a fine one!" growled maitland. "oh, holmesy! come over here, please. you haven't been teasing your stomach, have you?" "i don't know that i have a stomach," replied greg promptly. "you'll play shortstop today, then." half an hour later, the lehigh fellows were out on the field, going through some practice plays. below the center of the grandstand, the west point band was playing its most spirited music. the seats reserved for officers and their families, and for invited guests, were filling up rapidly. at the smaller stand, over at the east side of the field, lehigh had some two hundred friends and rooters. now on to the field marched the corps of cadets, filing into the seats reserved for them, just north of the officers' seats. now, the band began to play the u.s.m.a. songs, the cadets joining in under the leadership of the cheer-master. then, amid a storm of west point yells, the army nine strode on to the field. things moved quickly now. lehigh won the toss and went to bat. kennedy appeared to be in excellent form. he struck out the first two lehigh men at bat. the third man, however, gained first on called balls. the fourth man at bat drove a two-bagger, and now second and third were occupied. as the fifth of the lehigh batsmen stepped up to the plate, the lehigh cheers resounded, and west point's rooters sat in tense silence. what was the matter with kennedy? but the army pitcher struck out his man, and lehigh went out to grass without having scored. lehigh's revenge, though, was swift. three west point men were struck out almost as rapidly as they could move to the plate. in the second inning both sides got men to bases, but neither side scored. in the third lehigh took one solitary run, but it looked well on the score-board at the north end of the field. west point, in the last half of the third, put men on first and second, but that was all. by the fourth inning, kennedy was pitching a bit wildly. maitland gazed at his comrade of the battery with anxious eyes. lehigh began to grin with the ease of the thing now. one after another men walked to bases on called balls, until all of the bags were occupied. suddenly kennedy, after taking a twist on the ball, signaled maitland. the captain turned the umpire and spoke. "kennedy's old trick! he's gone stale and tatham is down at hospital," passed from mouth to mouth among the home rooters. "now, what's left for us?" after a brief conversation with the umpire maitland signaled. dick prescott came bounding in from second, to receive the ball from kennedy, while ebbett was seen racing out to second. "play ball!" called the umpire crisply. "oh, pshaw!" called one of the cadets. "in training season prescott tried for pitcher and the coaches turned him down. now we're done for today!" spirits were gloomy among the west point rooters. yet, within a few moments, they sat up, taking notice. dick, with his nerves a-tingle, his eye keen, measured up the lehigh batsman and sent in one of his old-time, famous gridley spit-balls. it looked slow and easy. the lehigh man swung a well-aimed crack at the ball. "strike one," announced the umpire. again prescott turned his wrist and twirled. "strike two!" then an outcurve. "strike three! out!" lehigh began to look with some interest at this new, confident pitcher. the next lehigh man to bat met a similar fate. so did the third man. now, the west point yells went up with new force and purpose. the corps yell rose, loud and thunderous, followed by three cries of "prescott!" in their half of the inning, west point put men on first and second, but that was the best they could do. so it dragged along to the seventh inning. army rooters were now sure that west point's star pitcher had been found at last, and that lehigh would have rare luck to score again today. but west point didn't seem able to score, either, and lehigh had the one needed dot. as army went to bat greg took up the stick and swung it expectantly. "do something, greg," dick had whispered. "i'm the second man after you, and i'll back you if you can get a start. remember the old gridley days of victory. get some of that same old ginger into you!" holmes, as he swung the stick over the plate, seemed to feel himself back on the old athletic field of gridley high school. and these stalwart college boys before him seemed to him to be the old, old tottenville high school youngsters. one strike greg essayed and lost. at the second offer, he hit the ball a sharp crack and started. he reached first, but as he turned, the ball fell into the hands of lehigh's second baseman, and greg fell back to safety at first. ebbett, who followed, hit at the third offer, driving the ball almost under the feet of lehigh's right-fielder. as that man seized it he saw that greg was within kicking distance of second bag, so he threw to first and ebbett was out. dick now stepped confidently forward. he looked at lehigh's tired pitcher with a challenging smile. at the first offer, prescott struck the leather sphere---crack! in an instant greg was in motion, while dick raced as though bent on catching his chum. the ball had gone out over the head of center, who was now faithfully chasing it across outfield. greg came in and hit the plate amid a cyclone of army enthusiasm. the band was playing in sheer joy. dick kicked second bag, then darted back as he saw the ball drop into the hands of the lehigh catcher, who promptly sent it spinning straight into the third baseman's hands. then maitland gained first on called balls, and furlong did the same, which advanced prescott to third. now carson came up with the stick, sending out a slow grounder. in like an apache runner came prescott, kicking the plate just before the ball dropped. from the seats of the army came the triumphant yell: "north point, east point, south point, west point---_two points_!" the next army man struck out, but west point was breathing, now, with score two to one. "don't let lehigh put another dot on the card, prescott, and you'll be our pitcher this year," promised maitland. "wait and see if the visitors can get any more from us," laughed dick coolly. he felt that he had his old gridley winning gait on now. he proved it by striking out three straight in the first half of the eighth. but west point did not score, either, in that inning. then came lehigh, grim and desperate, to bat for the ninth time. the first man dick struck out. but even his wrist seemed to be treacherous now. the second lehigh man offered at nothing, and went to first on called balls. so did the second, and a third man, and the bags were filled. maitland glanced appealingly at dick. the new batsman, at the second offer, drove a slow grounder. greg holmes raced forward for it, like a deer. as he caught it up there was no perceptible pause before he sent it straight into maitland's hands, and the man headed for the plate was out. but the three bags were again full. another lehigh man hit one of dick's drives, but only faintly with the edge of his bat, and he went out on a foul hit. "now, i'm going to strike this new man out," resolved dick desperately, steeling nerves and muscles for the effort. "strike one!" called the umpire. "ball one! ball two! strike two! strike three! out!" it was over, and lehigh, covered with chagrin, gave up the contest, while a pandemonium of army cheers went loose. two to one! "prescott, i guess you're our pitcher here-after" called maitland hoarsely. "and you, holmesy, for shortstop!" dick prescott found himself the center of a swift rush of cadets. then he was hoisted aloft, and rushed off the field in triumph and glory, while the corps yell rang out for him. over in the gym. prescott was forced to hold an impromptu reception. greg got much of the ovation. captain verbeck, the head coach, came up to grasp dick's hand. "prescott, i don't understand how you ever got by us. but maitland wants you for our star pitcher after this, and you'll have to be. it was the greatest army game, from the box, that i've seen in many a year." "say, you fellows," greeted anstey, breaking into their room after the chums had returned to barracks, "you two had better go over today, and the men who are to drag the spooniest femmes tonight are all plotting to write you down on the dance cards of their femmes." "that's the best reason in the world for keeping away from cullum, then," laughed dick. "but i mean it seriously," protested anstey. "so do i," replied dick "i'm really a committee of one, sent here by some of tonight's draggers," protested the virginian. "tell them of your non-success, then, do," urged dick. "for i'm not going to cullum tonight. are you, greg?" "ye-es," returned holmes promptly. then, suddenly, he paused in his moving about the room. he now stood looking at his left hand, on which appeared a small smear of black. "no!" suddenly uttered greg. "i'm not going. i've changed my mind---and for the best reasons possible." "now, what on earth has made you so excited?" demanded anstey wonderingly. chapter xxii greg's secret and another's "are you going to the hop tonight?" asked holmes, looking up with gleaming eyes from the smear on the back of his hand. "no," admitted anstey. "can you keep a secret? "yes, suh; suhtinly." "then come here at 8.15 to-night." "what are you talking-----" "i'm not talking, _now_," retorted greg with a resolute tone in his voice. "like a wise man, i'm going to do some thinking first. but you call around this evening. it'll be worth your while." anstey looked and felt highly mystified. it must be something both sudden and important to make greg change his mind so swiftly. for cadet holmes, who, in his home town, had not been exactly noted for gallantries to the other sex, had, in the yearling class, acquired the reputation of being a good deal of a "spoonoid." this is the term applied to a cadet who displays a decided liking for feminine company. "i can see that it isn't any use to ask you anything now," went on anstey. "it isn't," greg returned promptly. "i'm never secretive against you, anstey, old man and the only reason i don't talk at once is that i don't know just what i want to say. but remember---8.15. by that time i think i shall have solved myself into a highly talkative goat yearling." rap-tap! at the door, and furlong and dunstan dropped in. "want to tell you what i think about your pitching, old ramrod," announced furlong. "it's rotten!" glowed dunstan cheerfully "and your shortstop work, holmesy-----" "what kindergarten nine did you play with last?" insisted furlong. "i was just making up my mind not to pitch again this season," grinned cadet prescott. "why not?" furlong demanded. "milesy," laughed dick, "you should never go out on a kidding expedition until you're sure you're josh-proof yourself. do you think anything less than the coaches and the team captain could stop me from pitching? but i sorry for ken, if i'm to supplant him." "you needn't be. kennedy is glad. he hopes to make the cavalry, and he says he wants to train that wrist for wielding a sabre." "can you two near-plebes find time to drop in this evening, at just 8.15?" demanded greg. "certain idea! what's up, holmesy?" "it isn't a feed," declared greg. "but i think you'd be sorry afterwards if you failed to come." "we'll be here," promised dunstan. "then i guess our party will be complete," mumbled the mysterious greg. "say, holmesy," nudged dunstan, "how did you get that smear on the back of your hand? do you know, it looks like the famous one that cadet dodge rubbed off with a borrowed handkerchief, once on a time." "does it?" asked greg innocently. "be good enough to loan me your handkerchief, then?" "not much!" growled dunstan, backing away. "the loaning of personal linen seems on its way to becoming a court-martial offence." when the visitors had left, dick turned on his chum, demanding curiously: "what's the game for tonight, anyway, greg?" "you didn't see how i got this smear on my hand, did you, old ramrod?" "no." "then i'm not going to tell you at present," replied greg, going to his washbowl and pouring in water. "but the way i got it set me to thinking. "about what?" "well, about the way bert dodge got his hand smeared back in the days of ancient history. and, old ramrod, i believe that following up the clue may lead to some other discoveries that will possess a vital interest for you." "but-----" "no more at present! that's a special order," affirmed greg. "be good, like the rest, and wait until 8.15 to-night." at supper, in cadet mess hall, the talk all naturally turned to the diamond game with lehigh that afternoon. the army, at the outset, had hardly expected to win against that year's lehigh nine. when the game was well under way, army hopes had been still lower. now, the talk was all on how prescott and holmes had saved the game to the army. even maitland, without a trace of jealousy, conceded them most of the credit. "what has cherubic, spoonoid holmesy got up his sleeve for 8.15?" asked dunstan in an undertone of anstey. "i reckon, suh, you'll have to apply for particulars to the information and security service, suh," replied the virginian. "to the best of my belief, suh, the secret is all mr. holmes's." so no more questions were asked. but at 8.15, to the second, furlong and dunstan tapped on the prescott-holmes door, and, as they did so. anstey turned at the head of the stairs. punctuality is one of the cardinal virtues of the soldier; to be a half minute late is a grave breach of etiquette; to be five minutes late amounts almost to a crime. "now, holmesy, we want light," insisted furlong. "at first blush," returned greg, "some of you may not like the job. it is nothing more nor less than a visit to dodge's room, while he and blayton are absent at the hop." "it is an extreme measure, surely," murmured dunstan. anstey remained silent, waiting for further particulars. "what i would call to your attention," went on greg, "is that my roommate, old ramrod, was nearly bounced out of west point for something he never did. i believe, and probably you all do, that mr. dodge played an evil and guilty part in what became nearly a tragedy." "i wouldn't put anything mean beyond dodge," replied furlong. "now, i believe i can take you to dodge's room. both he and brayton are absent at the hop. brayton has always been a decent fellow, i don't believe he admires dodge any too much, but he has to put up with his roommate. now, in that room i hope to find evidence which will prove that dodge is not fit to be a member the corps of united states military academy cadets. will you come with me and look for the proof?" "i suhtinly will, suh," replied the virginian promptly. "if anstey will go on a job like that," muttered dunstan, "then i guess it's a proper undertaking for gentlemen." "i thank you, suh," nodded the virginian gravely. "then come along, all hands," begged greg. "if we find anything of the sort that i expect to, then there will be witnesses enough to prove the find to the satisfaction of the class and of the corps." feeling like so many conspirators, this committee of five moved along to dodge's room. greg went a little ahead and tapped. had dodge been there it would not have interfered seriously with his plans. but there was no answer, so holmes pushed open the door, turning the gas half on and lighting it. "this afternoon," declared greg, "i dropped a stub of a pencil in our room. it fell on the bricks of the floor of the fireplace, and rolled into the space between two of the bricks. in getting that pencil out i got on the back of my hand the smear that you all saw. "fellows, i've been thinking for weeks and months about that smear on the back of mr. dodge's hand. when i saw the one on the back of my own hand it occurred to me at once how mr. dodge might have got that black spot on his hand. it came over me, all in a flash. i knew that brayton and mr. dodge would be out of the way this evening at the hop. dodge has a hiding place somewhere in this room. from the past history of the academy we know that favorite hiding places have always been under the bricks of the fireplaces. for use in the winter time the hiding place must be in the outer edge of the brick flooring, close up to where it joins the boards. in such a hiding place the fire wouldn't harm the hidden objects. now, some of you might help me to see what we can find." anstey, with a gravely judicial air, knelt beside holmes. together they tapped back and forth over the bricks with rulers taken from the study tables. "this is the brick that hides the place, i reckon, suh," announced the virginian rather deliberately. "let's pry it up, then," suggested greg. but the brick resisted rather strenuous efforts. "that's odd, in itself," muttered holmes. "almost of the bricks in these fireplaces come up as easily as a naval apprentice's dinner. anse, we've got to work at this brick until we have loose. it surely hides something." "we mustn't damage either the wooden or brick flooring," warned furlong. "if we did find anything, after all, think of the row dodge could raise over the vandalism in his room." so the time slipped by, faster than any of them knew. but these five cadets, now satisfied that the obdurate brick really did hide a secret toiled on with no thought of surrender. at last they struck the combination. the brick back of the one that so resisted their efforts was finally pried up, after a good deal of effort. this opening laid bare a neat but powerful spring. had they had, at the outset, the whole secret of this spring, they could have raised the resisting brick in a second's time. "get it up---must have a look!" cried prescott hoarsely. it was greg who raised the brick that had resisted their efforts for so long. underneath cadet holmes found a collection of things that chained the attention of all, as each took eager looks in turn. "going to put the stuff back, for the present?" asked anstey, with an odd quiver in his voice the honorable virginian was upset by what he had seen. "not never!" retorted greg with ungrammatical emphasis. "it won't be just the thing for old ramrod and myself to have it, either. milesy, you and dunstan take it along with you. now, old ramrod, just what had we better do?" "i don't see anything for it but to root out again after taps and the subdivision inspector's visit tonight," muttered dick, who was alternately pale and flushed over the discovery, and all that it meant. "gentlemen, will you come softly to my room fifteen minutes after the sub-division inspector's official visit at taps?" greg and anstey restored the bricked flooring of the fireplace so that nothing indicated the late search. then, dunstan and furlong carrying away the discovered stuff, the five prowlers turned out the gas and separated. chapter xxiii the "committee on class honor" at a few minutes after eleven, that same april night, five cadets fully dressed stole down the corridor, and the leader laid a hand on dodge's doorknob. in another moment they had stepped inside and their arrival awakened cadet brayton. "plebes' quarters next floor up, brothers," called brayton in drowsy good nature. "i'm sorry to say, brayton, we're on the right floor, and in the right room," responded dunstan. "but this visit won't bother you!" the noise of voices awoke bert dodge with start. he awoke with a snort, then sat bolt upright, peering in the dark. "wh---who's there?" he demanded hoarsely. "a committee on class honor, mr. dodge," replied furlong, while anstey added, with ironic politeness: "don't be alahmed, suh. we do not believe you to be possessed, suh, of any of the commodity of which we are in search." "brayton" asked greg, "will you be good enough to slip into your bathrobe and hang your blankets over the window? then we can have some light. that's one thing we're going to need," he added significantly. "don't you do it, bray," broke in dodge stiffly. "as for you fellows, the best thing you can all do is to go back to your cradles. bray and i want to sleep the night through. and you've no business here, anyway." "i'm afraid you've missed the point, suh?" replied anstey with bored patience. "that is exactly why we're here, suh---because we have business here." brayton had slipped into his bathrobe and was now crossing the room with blankets on one arm. "chase 'em out, bray; don't hang any blankets for them to run a light behind," begged dodge. "i'm afraid i'd better," murmured brayton, as he stood on a chair and reached up to put the blankets in place. didn't you hear the announcement that this is a committee of honor? the class has a right to send one to any man, and prescott, the class president, is here. there, those blankets will hold and shut in all light. turn on the gas, holmesy, if you will." "you'd better get into robe and slippers, too, mr. dodge," hinted dunstan strongly. "our business is with you, and i think you'll feel more at ease on your feet." "what is all this nonsense about, anyway growled dodge, as he slipped out of bed and wrapped himself in his dressing gown. "that's what we'll ask you to explain," retorted greg. "but let us go about this in a regular manner. in the first place, brayton, please understand that you are not being investigated. it is mr. dodge who is under suspicion." "yes; under fine suspicion!" snarled dodge. "you mean i'm to be the victim of a plot hatched by my two old enemies back in the home town." but greg, ignoring him, turned to his chum. "dick, old ramrod, as you're the aggrieved one, i don't suppose you can exactly act as class president in this case. but you can designate some other member of the class to act in your place." "then i'll name mr. anstey," replied dick. "i believe he will be satisfactory to everyone." "not to me!" snapped bert dodge, his uneasy gaze roving from one face to another. "the class president can't name his own substitute." "silence!" commanded brayton, turning on his roommate. "of course the class president can delegate his duties, temporarily, to another." "take this matter in charge, mr. anstey," begged dick, turning to the virginian. "mr. dodge," continued the virginian, "be good enough, suh, to pay good heed to what i have to say. that will be necessary, in fairness to yourself, suh. i'll begin at the beginning." anstey began with the handkerchief-borrowing episode in barracks area. he dwelt upon the accusation against cadet prescott, the court-martial, and the further fact that even the verdict of acquittal had not, at first, been fully accepted by all members of the corps of cadets clearing dick of the fearful suspicion against his honor. "what has all this to do with me?" snarled dodge. "is prescott trying to revive his old and infamous hints against me? "wait a moment, mr. dodge," continued anstey patiently. "now will now move along to the drill in the riding hall yesterday afternoon." anstey then described the bared cuff that prescott had seen on dodge's left wrist. "that's a lie," rasped out dodge. but anstey heeded him not; prescott merely smiled. but the sight of that smile maddened dodge, who sprang up, crying: "yes! you think you have it all cooked up against me, dick prescott! but you'll find that truth and right will win." dick did not answer, but anstey, looking impressively at the culprit, declared: "mr. dodge, tonight, while you were away, we pried up that brick!" every vestige of color fled from bert's face. he seemed about to fall, but he clutched at the chair back and remained standing. "of course, mr. dodge, you know what we found there. brayton, you don't so you will interested in seeing the things. milesy, be good enough to spread the collection on that table. here, you see, first of all, is the cuff of yesterday. even the writing, in india ink, remains on it. and here are reddish stains, made by the impact of that cuff with the tan-bark of the riding hall. here are slips of paper on which the main features of the hardest math. problems of each day have been noted down, ready for writing on a cuff. here is the water-proof ink and the pen with which the writing on the cuff was done. and here are some other slips of paper, evidently older, on which other problems have been written out more fully. these older slips of paper contain problems of last november and early december---the time when prescott was in his deep trouble. now, these older slips are of paper just like the piece that fell from the handkerchief that prescott took out of his blouse on that tragic day. somewhere in the files the authorities have that slip that figured in the charges at prescott's trial by general court-martial. i imagine, on comparison, that slip will be found to be on paper identical with these slips containing older problems. and you will note that these older slips are written on with a typewriting machine, with crude figures drawn in, just as in the case of the slip that figured prescott's trial. now, mr. dodge, isn't it plain to even the dullest mind that you have been systematically cribbing at math., and that it is to that fact you owe your present high standing in the yearling class?" "now that i think of it," remarked brayton, turning and fixing his roommate with a frigid, hostile stare, "i have, on at least two occasions, entered this room just in time to see mr. dodge spring up hastily from near the fireplace. but i am a dull-witted fellow, i suppose, and i didn't suspect. "have you anything to say, mr. dodge?" demanded anstey. "nothing," barely gasped the detected wretch. "then i will say something instead, suh," continued the virginian. "i would rather the task fell to someone else, but this work has been delegated to me, and i must see it through, suh. mr. dodge, we are all satisfied that you are a miserable, lying, sneaking hound, suh, not worthy to associate with gentlemen. we are satisfied, suh, that you are without honor or principle, and that you will never be fit to become an officer of the army." "now, see here, fellows," broke in dodge in a whining tone, "if you'll be generous and give me another chance, i can live this down." "then you admit that which we have been stating against you, do you, suh?" questioned the virginian. "it will be best for you to be wholly honest, suh! "yes---yes---i---admit---it," cried dodge brokenly. "but i didn't deliberately plan for prescott's undoing---on my honor, i didn't! what happened was this: when i took prescott's handkerchief with one hand, i had that crib in the other hand. after using the handkerchief, i found that i couldn't pass it back without either letting the crib be seen, or else tucking the crib into the handkerchief. so i had to do the latter thing. but that was as far as i was guilty---on my honor, gentlemen!" "then you expect us to believe in the honor of a cadet who dishonors himself by sneaking cribs into a section room?" demanded anstey with mild but withering sarcasm. "give me just one more chance, gentlemen!" faltered dodge. "i pledge you my word that, henceforth, i'll do everything that is creditable and honorable, and nothing that isn't!" "we have a somewhat different proposition for you, mr. dodge," observed the virginian. "we want no more of your stripe. we would degrade the entire army, and the whole people of the united states of america if we allow you to remain here. tomorrow, at an early hour, you will hand in your resignation as a cadet, to take effect upon acceptance. if you fail, we will lay before the superintendent and the commandant of cadets all the evidence that we have against you, including your own confession. you will then have to face a general court-martial and be dismissed from the service in the deepest disgrace that can come to a cadet." bert dodge sank to his knees, holding his clasped hands up before him. "don't insist on that, gentlemen! don't! spare me the disgrace! spare my parents! "mr. dodge," replied anstey sternly, "honor is the watchword in the united states military academy, and all through the army. we couldn't spare a dishonorable wretch like you, suh, without sharing in your disgrace. and i have not told you all that we require. as soon as you have gone to your home you will write a letter to the superintendent, exonerating mr. prescott from all suspicion in that fearful affair. you will admit that you alone were guilty. according to custom, that letter will be read before the battalion in special orders and the entire corps will then know how fully cadet prescott is worthy of being one of us." "write that letter?" demanded dodge, leaping to his feet, but cowering. "never! you are taking an unfair, unmanly, ungenerous advantage of me! you shall never have any such letter from me!" chapter xxiv conclusion still patiently anstey turned to greg. "mr. holmes, will you be kind enough to go to the room of mr. packard of the first class, also mr. maitland, of the second class, and present my very respectful compliments? will you ask both gentlemen if they can make it convenient to come here, forthwith, on a matter of corps honor?" greg departed. he was back within five minutes, simply nodding. very soon mr. packard and mr. maitland appeared. they listened silently while anstey laid the story before them. then packard glanced at the second classman. "shall i speak for us both, maitland?" "if you please." "mr. anstey, and gentlemen," continued packard, "this is primarily a matter affecting your own third class, and should be settled by the members of your class. but, in its broader scope, the conduct to which mr. dodge has confessed affects the entire corps. mr. dodge charges that you are abusing your power. maitland and i beg to differ with him. mr. anstey, you have done the only thing that can be done in such a case of infamy and dishonor. mr. dodge will, of course, send in his resignation tomorrow; it will be much easier for him than facing disgrace of a more public kind through a published verdict of a general court-martial. as soon as mr. dodge has reached his home he will also write that letter exonerating mr. prescott; i am sure he will. if he does not, the corps will then take steps to turn the evidence over to the representative of the associated press, and of the largest newspapers in the country. in other words, mr. dodge, by refusing to write that letter, will face a vastly larger exposure all through the country. now, maitland, as this is, first of all, a class matter, i feel that we have offered enough. gentlemen, if you have no further need of us, we will withdraw." the self-appointed committee of the yearling class withdrew a moment after, furlong and dunstan carrying with them the evidence. bert dodge tendered his resignation promptly. within a week the notice of its acceptance by the secretary of war was published before the battalion, and dodge skulked away, alone, unregretted and utterly crushed, to the railway station. during the last few days he had been "cut" by every man in the corps. three days after his departure the superintendent of the united states military academy received a letter that caused him much astonishment. in this letter dodge briefly confessed that he, and he alone, was the guilty party in that cribbing affair, and dick prescott had had no guilty share or knowledge in the incident. "hm!" mused the superintendent, a grim smile passing over his face. "this dodge business has all the ear-marks of another affair of army honor settled unofficially by the corps of cadets." dodge's letter was published in a special order then read before the corps of cadets, and the affair was closed. dick and greg continued to play in the army nine the rest of that spring. it was one of the most brilliant of army seasons on the diamond, and much of the credit was due to yearlings prescott and greg. baseball was at last cut short by the arrival of the busy graduation season. immediately after the proud and happy graduating class had left to take up its new life in the scattered army of the united states, the yearling class dropped that designation and became the new second class at west point. as members of the new second class, these happy youngsters laid aside their uniforms for two and a half months, and, in citizens' clothes, made their rush away from the military academy to begin the summer furlough that comes but once in the cadet's more than four years of academy life. that evening found greg and dick in new york city. happy as small boys, they looked at the great city in genuine glee. "i feel like rubbing my eyes, greg, old chum!" laughed dick. "are we dreaming, or can such large cities actually be?" "it seems to me that i have a remembrance of large towns in some previous stage of existence, somewhere in the universe," sighed holmes ecstatically. "but this town is bigger, noisier, fuller of life and fun than anything i can recall." "we have until midnight before the home train leaves," pursued dick. "home! now, that is something of which i have a much keener recollection!" cried greg, his eyes moistening. "dick, i'm afraid that, if there were a train earlier than midnight, even the big town wouldn't detain me." "but there isn't an earlier train, greg, and there are no taps or sub-division inspectors tonight. what shall we do?" "first of all, then," proposed greg gleefully, "let us see if there is a place in new york where they know the meaning of the big feed." "and then the theater!" chuckled dick. "which we'll reach in one of those wonderful vehicles that the natives call taxicabs!" they found a place without difficulty. "then to walk along broadway with its flashing lights; then the railway station!" "the train!" "home in the morning!" "we'll start with a taxi," proposed greg. "here's an empty one coming. here, chauffeur. yes! the waldorf!" what befell our cadets thereafter will be reserved for the next volume in this series, which is published under the title, "_dick prescott's third year at west point; or, standing firm for flag and honor._" this story will be a rare treat, one that will make the blood bound faster in the arteries of any real american boy. a narrative of surpassing interest and thrilling adventures in the military cadet's life is promised. the end the gentleman cadet his career and adventures at the royal military academy woolwich by lt. col. a.w. drayson illustrations by c.j. staniland published by griffith and farran, london. the gentleman cadet, by lt. col. a.w. drayson. ________________________________________________________________________ ________________________________________________________________________ the gentleman cadet, by lt. col. a.w. drayson. preface. the following pages contain a history of the life of a woolwich cadet as it was about thirty years ago. the hero of the tale is taken through the then usual routine of a cram-school at woolwich, and from thence passed into the royal military academy. the reformation that has taken place--both in the preparatory schools and also at the academy--may be judged of by those who read this book and are acquainted with existing conditions. the habits and life of a cadet of the present day are well known, but the singular laws and regulations--written and unwritten--in former times may not be so generally understood; and, as memory of the past fades away, the following pages have been penned, to give a history of the singular life and manners of the old cadet. the work has no other pretensions than to give this history, and to afford amusement to the young aspirant for military glory. _southsea, september_, 1874. chapter one. my home life. on the borders of the new forest, in hampshire, stands an old-fashioned thatch-roofed family-house, surrounded by cedars and firs, with a clean-shaved, prim-looking lawn opposite the drawing-room windows, from which a magnificent view was visible of the forest itself and the southampton waters beyond. in that house i was born; and there i passed the first fourteen years of my existence in a manner that must be briefly recorded, in order to make the reader acquainted with my state of education previous to a somewhat eventful career in a more busy scene. my father had been intended for the church, but having at cambridge taken a dislike to holy orders, and finding himself left, by the death of my grandfather, sole possessor of a sum of about thirty thousand pounds invested in consols, he decided to live an easy life, and enjoy himself, instead of taking up any profession--an error that caused him to be what may be called "a mistake" all his life, and which was the cause of much suffering to me. having devoted some eight or ten years to travelling and seeing the world, my father married, and selected for his wife the youngest of seven daughters of a very worthy but very poor clergyman in wiltshire, who bore him two daughters and myself; after which she sickened and died at the early age of twenty-six. in order to have some one to whom he could entrust the care of his three children, my father took into his house his eldest sister, who was some fifteen years his senior, and to whom was given the sole charge of myself and my two sisters. aunt emma, as we used to term her, was my abhorrence; she had a singular facility of making herself disagreeable, especially with us young people. that she used to teach us our letters and our reading and writing was certainly kind on her part--at least, so she assured me--but she had a way of teaching that was not one at all suitable to gaining the esteem or affection of a child. her principal object in teaching seemed to be to impress on us children that we were the most stupid, dull, and lazy children in the world, whom it was little short of martyrdom to try to teach; whilst we were informed that she, as a child and as a schoolgirl, had always been famous for quickness in learning, attention to her studies, and love to her schoolmistress. we were also being daily impressed with the idea that we were awfully wicked and selfish, and quite unworthy of any kindness from her or our father, whilst we were also accused of having a bad motive for everything we did. aunt emma was a great expert in slapping. often have i lain in bed and cried for hours at the remembrance of the unmerited and severe slaps that my poor little delicate sister had received during the day from aunt emma. there was, i feel glad to say, no real anger in those feelings, but a sense of utter misery and regret that aunt emma should feel so little for the unhappiness she caused, and for the injustice of which she was guilty. i was a child then, and i had yet to learn that there are people in the world who take a delight in making others unhappy, who attribute to all, except themselves, bad, selfish, or spiteful motives for every word and act, and to whom the world is an enemy on which they are justified in renting their spleen. it may seem to the reader out of place to speak thus of aunt emma, but as she had much to do with my early life, and as her specialities must then be brought forward, there is really no object in concealing either her weaknesses or defects. at the date to which i am referring, some forty years ago, there was a great taste in many private families for immoderate physicking. aunt emma possessed this taste in no small degree; that she believed in its efficacy there can be no doubt, because she used to physic herself with the same generous freedom that she bestowed on us children. each spring we regularly, for some five weeks, were put through a course of brimstone and treacle; each morning we were given a spoonful of treacle in which the gritty brimstone had been stirred with a free hand. if we looked pale or tired, or were more than ordinarily stupid at our lessons, aunt emma decided that a three-grain blue pill at night, followed by a cup of senna tea in the morning, was urgently needed. these doses came with dangerous frequency, and i can conscientiously say, not once for a fortnight, from the time i was five years old till nearly eleven, was i free of physic. whether it was from this or from any other cause, i cannot say for certain, but up to twelve years of age i was a pale, weak, sickly boy, given to sick headaches, sleepless nights, vomitings, and general debility, with a strong tendency to get alone somewhere, and either dream away the hours, or read and re-read any book that i was fortunate enough to procure. up to the age of twelve my life was a kind of tideless sea; time passed, but there were no events to mark it. companions i had none, except my two sisters, and sometimes a forest lad, the son of a gamekeeper, who used to take me out squirrel-hunting or birds'-nesting. these expeditions, however, were all but forbidden by my aunt, who visited with her severe displeasure either absence from a meal or a late arrival for one. having given priority in description to my aunt, i must now endeavour to describe my father. if i were to write pages i could not more fully delineate my father's character better than to state that he had but one fault, viz, he was too kind. this kindness actually degenerated into weakness, or, as some people might term it, feebleness or indifference. this peculiar attribute manifested itself in a neglect of my early education, and of that of my sisters. if it were suggested to him that i was old enough to go to a school, he invariably found some excuse, such as that i was just then too much out of health, or he could not spare me, or i was doing very well at home, or he could not select a school where he could be sure i should receive proper attention. the true reason for these excuses was, i believe, that he could not make up his mind to part with me. i was almost his only companion, for our nearest neighbour was three miles off, and he was a man devoted to hunting only, and had none of those refined tastes or love for literature and art that my father was famous for. the result of these conditions was that at the age of thirteen i was very old in manner and thought; i was prematurely old before i was young; but i lacked the knowledge, education, and experience which usually come with age, and i was, as regards other boys, the most veritable ignoramus as to the world--knowing nothing of boys, or of the great school-world, a complete dunce as regards those points of education on which all other lads of my own age were well-informed--having a somewhat exaggerated idea of my own talents, genius, and acquirements, and disposed to look down on those boys, sons of the neighbouring gentry, who about twice a year came to our house to partake of our hospitality, and enjoy a picnic in the forest. my father was a perfect gentleman, in the full meaning of the word. he was most sensitive himself, and, believing all those with whom he associated to be equally gifted, he was most careful and considerate in all he said or did. with him it was little short of a crime to say or do anything that could by any chance hurt the feelings of even an acquaintance. i remember once hearing an anecdote related about my father, which may show how great was the belief at least of his sympathies with others. a guest at his dinner-table, on one occasion, upset by accident a glass of sherry on the table-cloth. the visitor apologised for his awkwardness, in most humble terms, blushed deeply, and again commenced a second apology. my father tried to place the guest at his ease, but, noticing how uncomfortable he appeared, my father (it was said, purposely) upset his own glass of wine, at which he laughed immoderately, and was joined by all at table, the result being that no further apologies were offered or awkwardness exhibited by the clumsy guest. my father's pet hobby was natural history. he had a splendid collection of all the moths and butterflies to be found in england. it was a great treat for me to walk with him under the wide-spreading arms of the giant beech-trees or grand old oaks that grew around us, and watch him select the grub or cocoon of some insect that would have escaped the attention of common eyes, and hear him describe the changes through which this creature passed in its material career. many are the happy hours that i have passed with him watching the gambols of the squirrel, or, with a pair of powerful opera glasses, scrutinising the detail labours of various birds as they built their nests. the peculiar habits of various birds and insects were well known to me long before some of them were made known to the reading world by those gentlemen whose books on natural history were written from their experience gained in the library of the british museum. long before naturalists had begun to speculate on the cause of that peculiar drumming noise made by the snipe when on the wing, my father and i had convinced ourselves that it was due to the bird spreading open the pinion feathers as it stooped in its flight. the new forest was especially suited for the residence of a naturalist, as in it were many rare birds and insects, and the opportunities for watching the habits of these were frequent. about my future course in life my father never spoke; he seemed disposed to let matters drift on; and i believe his wish was that i never should leave home for the purpose of taking up a profession, but that at his death i should still continue the quiet, peaceful life that we had hitherto led in the forest. it is possible that i might have continued contented as a mere forest boy with country tastes, somewhat feeble powers, and what may be termed a wasted life, had i not by chance met an individual who in one short day turned the whole current of my thoughts into a new channel, and raised in my mind longings and wishes to which i had hitherto been a stranger. as my whole future life turned at this point i must devote a new chapter to a description of my meeting with this person. chapter two. my first adventure. i was in the habit of taking long walks, accompanied by my dog, through the forest and over those wastes of moorland which are to be found in various parts of hampshire. whilst thus wandering one day, i saw on a prominent knoll, from which an extensive view could be obtained of the surrounding country, two men, one of whom had on a red uniform. my life had been passed so entirely in the wilds of the forest that i had never before seen a soldier, and my curiosity was at once excited by this red-coat, and i consequently made my way towards him, intending to examine him as i would a new specimen of natural history. on coming near the two persons i saw at once that the one in civilian dress was a gentleman. to me he looked old, but i afterwards found out he was only twenty-four; but a man of twenty-four is old to a boy of fourteen. this gentleman was busily occupied with a strange-looking instrument, which seemed made partly of brass and partly of wood. it stood on three legs, which were separated so as to form a pyramid, and on the apex of this was the brass apparatus referred to. i had approached to within about twenty yards of this instrument when the gentleman ceased looking at it, and, turning towards me, said, "now, young fellow, mind you don't get shot." "i beg pardon," i said, "i didn't know you were going to fire." and as i said so i saw that what appeared rather like a tube was pointing towards me. "if you get shot it will be your own fault," said the gentleman; "so don't expect me to be responsible. don't you see the muzzle is pointing at you?" i slipped round very quickly, so as to place myself, as i supposed, behind the gun, but, in a moment, round went the instrument with a touch of the gentleman's finger, and again the tube pointed at me. "there you are again, right in the way," said the stranger. "if you are not shot it's a marvel to me." seeing a smile on the face of the soldier, i began to suspect that i was being made fun of, so i said, "i don't believe that is a gun." "not a gun? why, what a disbelieving young jew you are?" "i'm not a jew," i replied indignantly. "i'm a gentleman." "that's good," exclaimed the stranger, with a laugh. "then you mean to assert that a jew can't be a gentleman? you'd better mind what you're saying, sir, for i'm a jew." i looked at him with surprise, for i had my own idea of what a jew was on account of a jew pedlar coming to our lodge twice a year with a pack of all sorts of odds and ends to sell; and certainly, as i looked at the tall, handsome-looking stranger, i saw no similarity between him and the pedlar. i had lived hitherto in a most matter-of-fact world, where such a thing as a joke was rare, and what is termed "chaff" was unknown, so i did not understand the meaning of these remarks, and certainly felt no inclination to smile. "do you live in these parts?" asked the stranger. "yes," i replied. "do you know the forest well?" "every part of it." "now come here," said the stranger. "do you see those tall pines--those on that hill?" "yes." "well, what is the name of that place?" "that's castle malwood." "castle malwood; and it's well known about here by that name?" "yes, of course it is." "if i were to ask one of these chawbacon foresters to show me where castle malwood was, he would point out that place, eh?" "yes; every forester knows that." "how about the name of that house down there with the yew-trees round it?" "that's blackthorn lodge, where i live." "oh, that's your house, is it? and what's your governor?" "a gentleman." "i suppose you are home for the midsummer holidays?" "no; i don't go to school." "tutor at home, i suppose?" "no." "who teaches you, then?" "aunt did, and now my father does." "and what are you going to be?" "i don't know." "you ought to be a cadet, and join the engineers." i made no reply to this; for i had never thought of any career in the future, and had never had any ideas beyond our quiet forest home, so i was not prepared with any remark. "how do you amuse yourself here?" said the stranger. "rather a dull place, i fancy." "i watch the birds and insects, and study natural history," i replied. "you are fond of that, are you? you should have been with me in africa, then, where you could have watched a herd of wild elephants, or seen a lion stalk a buck, or a gigantic snake kill a bustard: that's the place for a naturalist." "have you ever seen a wild elephant or lion?" i inquired, looking with a sudden feeling of respect at the gentleman. "seen them and shot them, too, and have been in a country where you had to burn fires all round you to prevent being trodden down by the herds of wild animals that come about you of a night." "are you a soldier?" i inquired. "i flatter myself i am. i am an officer of engineers, and am here now surveying, and want all the information i can get about the forest; so, if you like, i'll meet you to-morrow near your house, as i shall be taking angles on the heath near you." "then that thing isn't a gun?" "no; it's a theodolite, used for surveying. i often chaff the chawbacons here, by telling them i am going to fire, and then they don't come bothering. what's your name?" "shepard." "by george! that's odd; why, my governor was at cambridge with yours, and told me to call on you when i came down here. is your governor at home?" "yes." "then pack up the instrument, roberts. i'll come home with you, and see your governor, for i have a letter for him which i ought to have delivered before." the officer watched the instrument being packed up, and then started with me towards our house. on the way he described to me the country from which he had lately returned, and gave a vivid description of the vast plains covered with wild animals, of the forest teeming with strange creatures, and the air frequented by monstrous birds. then he described a leopard-hunt in which he had taken part, and told me how one of the party had been seized and torn by the animal; and how, at last, it had been shot dead by a lucky shot. on his watch-chain were two of the claws of the leopard, which he showed me, and which gave me an idea of the size and strength of the creature. so vivid was his description, that the whole scene was before me, and i looked at him with mingled feelings of awe and admiration. i had read brief descriptions of lion and tiger hunts, but i had somehow mixed these up with tales from the "arabian nights," and such like stories; but to meet a person who had himself been an actor in a lion-hunt, and who had himself killed some of the most powerful savage animals, was to me like a dream. my new acquaintance was to me a hero; and i was at once ready to follow his merest suggestion, if he would only tell me more of his adventures with wild beasts. as we approached my father's house, it occurred to me i had not asked the stranger's name, and i should have to tell my father who he was; so after a little hesitation i inquired what his name was. "howard," replied the officer. "i'm jack howard, lieutenant royal engineers; my governor is the vicar of longstone, in kent; so now you know all about me." as we approached the house we met my father, who, on learning who my companion was, welcomed him in the most cordial manner, and gave him a most pressing invitation to take up his residence at our lodge during the time he was surveying near us. that evening he stopped with us, and as we sat near the dining-room window, looking out on the endless glades of the grandest forest in england, howard entertained us with descriptions of the scenes and adventures through which he had passed in africa. he was a good talker, and had devoted much of his time to sport and to natural history, and was thus able to give my father descriptions of the rare animals he had met, and which were then but little known in england. as for me, i was simply entranced, and even my father seemed to listen with delight to descriptions of savage life, of which he had previously only read. i felt utterly miserable when howard left, although he had promised to come on the following evening and stay with us a few days. when i went to bed that night it was not to sleep; i tossed from side to side without any desire to close my eyes. the scenes of which i had heard were before me as vividly as though i had been an actor in them, and already had i made up my mind that i must be an engineer, and most myself enjoy similar experiences to those of howard. of the ways and means by which this result was to be accomplished i knew nothing, but i determined to ask howard, on the first opportunity, how i could become an engineer officer, and then to try and induce my father to take such steps as would forward my views. howard came at the hour appointed, and took up his residence with us. i had counted the hours as they passed slowly and drearily till his arrival, and felt inclined to follow him like a dog as soon as he was in the house. i was anxious for an opportunity to tell him of my wish to be an engineer, and to ask him what i was to do to become one, for now it seemed that every hour's delay was so much waste time, whilst the uncertainty as to whether i could or could not be one was a great source of anxiety to me. it was not till the second day after his arrival that i found an opportunity of speaking to him about my wishes. it was towards the afternoon, when he returned early from his surveying, that i met him near the lodge, and summoning courage i said, "i have something i want to ask you." "what is it?" said howard. "i want to be an engineer officer like you. can i?" "there is no reason why you should not if you only work hard, but you have no time to lose. what age are you?" "i'm nearly fifteen." "then it will be sharp work for you, unless you are tolerably well up in swat." "what is swat?" i inquired. "we call algebra and euclid, and all those things, swat at woolwich. are you good at euclid?" this question was an awkward one. i had been so entirely in the hands of my aunt as regards my education, that there were many subjects that i had never heard of, and which other boys of my own age knew well. up to the time at which howard asked me if i was well up in euclid, i had, to the best of my memory, never even heard of euclid; whilst algebra was also an unknown science. i had done sums of multiplication, and was supposed to have learnt rule-of-three, but i had yet to learn how little i knew, and to discover the difference between real knowledge and a mere superficial smattering. in reply to howard's question i had to own i knew nothing of euclid. "what have you done in algebra?" he next asked. "nothing. i know nothing about it." "by jove! you are behindhand then; and unless you are at once sent to a crammer's, you won't get into the academy even." "but i will work very hard," i said, "for i am so anxious to be an engineer." "of course, but you can no more learn a heap in a given time than you can eat an ox for dinner. you must have a certain time to prepare, and at sixteen and a half you will be too old for entry. then, have you interest to get a nomination for woolwich?" "i must ask my father about that," i replied; "but i wish you would speak to him, and say what a good thing it would be for me." howard was silent for some minutes, and then said, "i will speak to your governor, for i think it is a great pity for a young fellow like you to waste his time in the country till he is too old to do anything; and as our governors were cronies, i may, perhaps, take the liberty of talking to him." it must have been on that evening, after i had gone to bed, that howard broached the subject to my father; for on the following morning my father took me into the library, and, shutting the door carefully, as though what he was going to say was a great secret, said, "howard tells me you are very anxious to be an engineer officer, and have talked to him about it. now i have no wish to part with you, but if you think you would like such a profession, i will do what i can for you. it is a most gentlemanly profession, admits you to good society, enables you to see the world, and you may make your name known as a clever man. young howard is a good example for you. he carried off several prizes at woolwich, and has always been considered a most promising young man, and he thinks you could not do better than go into the engineers. you will have to work hard for a year or two, but with what you know already you will soon pick up all that is required, and your knowledge of natural history will no doubt help you on and bring you into notice. so if you think it will suit you i will apply for an appointment to the academy." on the day following this conversation, howard left us for a farm-house some eight miles distant, and on the day after his departure my father sent a letter to the master-general of the ordnance, asking for an appointment for me to the academy, and stating that i was clever, and a good naturalist. by return of post a letter was received, the opening of which i awaited with intense anxiety. it was a long rectangular document, with "o.h.m. service" on the outside; the contents were brief but most decisive. in answer to the application, the master-general regretted that there was no prospect of a vacancy at the royal military academy before i had passed the age for admission. a shade of disappointment only passed across my father's face as he read this letter, but to me it was a shock that seemed to render my future a blank. i had so set my heart on being an engineer officer, like howard, that i had thought of nothing else for the past four or five days and nights. my usual amusements had become distasteful, and been neglected; the fire of ambition had entered my mind, and repose was no longer attainable. castles in the air had been built, and seemed to me substantial edifices; and now to find all my hopes thus cruelly crushed was a blow i could not support. i tried my best to bear up, but i felt broken-hearted. i instantly thought of howard; might he not help me? he was so clever, and so acquainted with everything, that perhaps he might tell my father what to do. i must find howard and let him know what had happened; so, soon after breakfast, i started for a long walk to that part of the forest where i hoped to find him. i was in luck that day, for i came on howard as he was going to his work, told him of the disappointment i had just experienced, and asked him if there was no remedy. he smiled at my eagerness, and said, "never despair, i will see what can be done. i have a relative in the cabinet, and he may manage the affair for you; but, really now, it takes as much interest to get a nomination for woolwich as it does to make a curate a bishop; but i will write about it, and if i get you a nomination you must do me credit, and pass all your examinations well." a week passed after this interview, and i saw nothing of howard; each day as the post came in i looked anxiously for a letter, but none came, and i at length lost all hope. i had told my father what howard had said, but he smiled at my sanguine hopes, and told me it was unfortunate, and could not be helped; but there really was no chance of success, as he had ascertained that nearly every nomination for woolwich was given either through parliamentary interest, or to the sons of distinguished military officers. on the eighth day, however, an official letter was left by the postman at our lodge. my father opened it with eagerness, and scanned its contents before reading it to us. he then said, "bob, i congratulate you; listen to this:-"`i have the honour to inform you that the master-general of the ordnance has granted a nomination to the royal military academy to your son, robert shepard, and i am directed to state that he may present himself at the academy at the next examination in february. i enclose papers, etc.'" i jumped from my chair, gave my father a hug, exchanged kisses with my two sisters and aunt, and performed various extraordinary capers about the room. in imagination i was already an officer, a traveller, a lion-slayer, and very much what howard appeared to me. of the thorny path between me and the position i aspired to i knew nothing. i saw the prize only, and little knew what i had to pass through ere i reached it. if i could have seen the life i should lead during the next three years i doubt whether my ambition would not instantly have been extinguished; and i should have remained a dreamy forest boy, and grown up to the position of a country gentleman of moderate means and somewhat limited abilities. on that morning there was joy in our house; my father was pleased at the success of what he supposed was his application, and because he saw i was pleased. my sisters were pleased at the prospect of having a brother a soldier; and my aunt was, i think, gratified because of late she had lost much of the control over me, which she had wielded when i was a mere child, and did not now care to have me in the house. when the first excitement of the intelligence was over, my father took me into the library to talk over the papers he had read, relative to the examination. "there is euclid," he said; "three books you will have to take up. that you'll soon learn, because your mind is fresh and has not been crammed like other boys at your age. then there is arithmetic,--that of course you know; and algebra up to quadratic equations; this you will soon pick up. i remember at cambridge i soon learnt all these things. history and geography you were always fond of, and, of course, there is nothing to learn there. french and german, too, you can pick up a smattering of--enough to pass an examination--and i fancy your knowledge of natural history will help to make you stand well at an examination. to february is five months, so there is no hurry, and if you go steadily on you ought to pass well. perhaps, if i get a tutor to come over from southampton twice a week, we might manage it well." i knew nothing about examinations, or the difficulty of the subjects i was expected to learn, and so could offer no remarks, and could only acquiesce in my father's suggestion, and should probably have dreamed on a few months longer had not howard that afternoon called at our lodge, to congratulate us on the receipt of the nomination which, he said, he had heard of that morning. he took but little credit to himself for what he had done; but i felt certain then, and i ascertained afterwards, that it was entirely due to his interest that i obtained my nomination. upon hearing what was proposed to be done in preparing me for the examination, he assured us that it would be impossible for me to qualify by february, even if i went to the best cram-school at woolwich; but to have a tutor twice a week would be useless. he impressed on my father the necessity for getting my examination postponed till february twelvemonth--the last date that my age would admit of--and recommended that i should at once be sent to mr hostler, the best cram-school at woolwich, who would prepare me if any one could. the high opinion which my father entertained of howard caused him not only to listen to, but to act on, this advice; and it was decided that on the monday week following my father was to start with me for woolwich, and leave me in charge of mr hostler, to be prepared for the royal engineers, and for the examination on the february twelvemonth from that date. chapter three. a cram-school at woolwich forty years ago. in the days to which this tale refers, railways did not exist; it was therefore by the salisbury coach that i travelled with my father to london. i will pass over my wonder and surprise at the size and crowds of london, and of the scenes that presented themselves to me as i for the first time drove through the metropolis. steam-vessels were then novelties, and it was by a steam-vessel that we journeyed from london bridge to woolwich, and were deposited in the lower part of that dirty town, from whence a cab conveyed us to the school-house of mr hostler at the early hour of eleven a.m. as, from what i was able to gather at the time, mr hostler's was a fair specimen of the woolwich cram-schools forty years ago, this establishment and the life i led there will be somewhat fully described. after long years of roughing it in various parts of the world, the early impressions of that school are fresh in my memory. coming as i did to that school, fresh from a quiet country home, where i had led the quietest of lives--where a slap from my aunt was the greatest evil that ever happened to me--where politeness and consideration for others was instilled into me by my father as the essential attribute of a gentleman--i was ill-prepared for mr hostler's school, where a somewhat different tone prevailed. on arriving at mr hostler's, we were shown into a comfortably-furnished but small room, and were informed that mr hostler would come very soon. after about five minutes the door opened, and a short, broad, dark man entered. his eyes were dark and piercing, and his aquiline nose gave him, to my mind, the appearance of a hawk. without a moment's hesitation he said, "how do you do, mr shepard? lucky to get a nomination for your boy, and lucky i've got room for him. another day and you'd have been too late." mr hostler turned his hawk-like eyes on me and said, "you don't look well: are you ill?" "no, thank you; i'm a little tired--that's all." "he's for the academy?" said mr hostler to my father. "yes, for the royal engineers." "ah! you must work hard, and we'll make something of you here, you may depend. i think, mr shepard, i'd better take him at once, and show him in the school. `go to harness at once' is my motto." before i had quite realised my position, i had bid my father good-bye, had cast a longing look after him, and felt a choking feeling in my throat, and a sensation of utter loneliness came over me as i knew i was alone, without a friend near. mr hostler took a long look at me, and then, in quite a different tone to that in which he had spoken to my father, said,-"come along, youngster. you are like a young bear, i see; all your trouble's to come. you've a lot before you, i can tell you." i followed mr hostler out of the room, down about half-a-dozen steps, and into a courtyard, where i heard a noise of voices making so great a din that it was impossible to distinguish the words. these sounds came from a long building on the left, to which mr hostler led me. he opened a door and pushed me in before him, when i saw one of the most extraordinary sights that i had ever witnessed. in the room were a number of tables, at which were sitting about fifty boys in about five rows. the majority of these boys were swinging backwards and forwards, like pendulums the wrong end uppermost; others had their hands pressed over their ears, and their heads bent down over a book; the whole of them were repeating words or sentences, portions of which only were audible amidst the deafening din. in after years, when i have stood at night near a tropical swamp, and have listened to the deafening noise of a thousand bull-frogs, i have always had recalled to me my first visit to the schoolroom of mr hostler's cram-school at woolwich. upon our entering the schoolroom several boys looked up from their books, and the noise for an instant decreased; then, from the far end of the room, a shrill voice exclaimed, "because the triangle abc is similar to the triangle def, therefore the side ab is to the side de." then a chorus of voices drowned the first voice, and again the uproar proceeded. "stop a minute, boys!" said mr hostler in a loud voice. "here's a new boy--shepard's his name. he's going into the royal engineers. i say, beck, you look out, or he'll beat you!" as this speech was made to the whole school, i made a bow--such a one as my father had taught me to make to a lady. a titter ran round the various tables as i did so, and i distinctly saw one boy make a grimace at me. "here, monk," said mr hostler; "you take shepard; set him his euclid, and see what he knows in swat." the person addressed was a hard-featured man, with a surly look about him, who, handing me a book, said,-"what do you know?" "no euclid," i replied. "don't know any euclid? why, how old are you?" "nearly fifteen," i replied. "oh i nearly fifteen and don't know any euclid! and you're going to be an engineer?" "yes," i replied; "i'm going to be an engineer." "don't you wish you may get it?" said mr monk. "now learn these definitions," he continued, "and let's see what you can do." the book now placed before me was the mysterious euclid, my first acquaintance with which i was now to make. i looked at the first sentence under the definitions, and thought i had never seen a more extraordinary statement than that there made,-"a point is that which has no parts and no magnitude." i read this over two or three times, but each time i read it and thought over it the statement seemed more and more curious. on looking further down the page, i saw that "a line was length without breadth," which seemed to me quite a mistake; for, however thin a line might appear to the naked eye, yet i knew, from my experience with the microscope in connexion with natural history, that the thinnest spider's web always showed some breadth when it was looked at through a microscope. it occurred to me that, amidst the noise and confusion that went on in this school, it was possible that the fact of looking at a line through a microscope had never been thought of by any one; and as i felt quite certain that it was impossible that a line could exist without breadth, i determined to point this out to mr monk. watching for an opportunity to catch his eye, i half rose from my seat as i saw him looking at me. he immediately came to where i was sitting, and said,-"what's the matter? you've only your definitions to learn; can't you understand them?" "not quite," i said; "but i think this about a line having no breadth is wrong; for, however thin a line may appear, it looks thick if you bring a microscope to see it through." as soon as i commenced speaking to mr monk, the boys at the table ceased their sing-song noise and listened to what i was saying. there was a look of astonishment in their faces as i spoke, which quickly changed to a broad grin when they heard what i said; and when mr monk said in a sarcastic tone, "oh, you've found that euclid's wrong, eh? and that we are all a pack of fools? now, you just learn three more definitions for your cheek, you young puppy?" the boys actually roared with laughter. "you want a lot taken out of you, i can see," continued monk, "and i'll pretty soon do it; so mind what you're at." i don't know whether surprise or anger predominated in my mind at the result of my first attempt to show i thought on what i learnt, as well as attempted to learn it by rote. such downright rudeness i had never before experienced, and i could scarcely believe that the boys around me were the sons of gentlemen, although i had been told by howard that hostler's was a first-class school, where none but gentlemen's sons were admitted. i blushed scarlet at the remark made to me, and felt inclined to explain my meaning, but somehow the words would not come, and i therefore gazed steadily at the pages of my book, wondering how it was i seemed so different from other boys. whilst thus meditating, i raised my eyes to the boy opposite me; he was a cross-looking, sturdy boy, about my own age, and was occupied, as were the rest, in swinging backwards and forwards, whilst he repeated, in a loud tone, "a is to b as b is to c," etc. when this boy saw me looking at him, he made a face at me, and said, "don't look at me!" as, however, i continued looking at him, he suddenly lowered himself, so that his head only appeared above the table, and, before i suspected what he was doing, i received a tremendous kick on the shins. the noise the boy made caused mr monk to look up just in time to see me throw my book at the boy's head. so quick had been my assailant in recovering himself and resuming his proper position, that, when mr monk looked round, the only thing he saw was my euclid flying across the table at the boy's head. "hullo!" exclaimed mr monk, "you're a nice young fellow; what are you at?" "he kicked me on the shins," i exclaimed. "didn't do anything of the kind," said the boy, whose name was fraser. "didn't you kick shepard?" "no; i stooped under the table to pick up my handkerchief, and he then shied his book at me," said fraser, with a bare-faced effrontery that startled me. "you come out here, shepard," said monk, who seemed not to have got over my remark about the line; "we'll soon stop your larks." i got up from my seat, feeling that i had been most unjustly treated, and that a lie had been told against me; but, not knowing how i could get myself righted, i was puzzling my brain how i should make mr monk know what had really occurred, when i received a couple of blows from him on the head that almost stunned me. "that's what you want," said monk, "to set you to rights! now go and stand on that stool till you've learnt your euclid, and if you fail you'll get three cuts as sure as your name's shepard. we don't stand any tricks here, you see; you've to learn what discipline is." i find it difficult to make the reader fully comprehend my feelings at that time. up to the age of ten years aunt emma had been very free in boxing my ears, and keeping me in what she called "order," but during the past five years i had been treated more like a young man than as a boy. the companionship with my father had given me an old feeling, and i thought more as a man thinks than as a boy does. with such ideas as to my age, it was a great blow to my pride to find myself treated like a child, to be kicked by a boy smaller than myself, and then to have my ears boxed because i retaliated. i tried hard to command myself, but after a brief struggle i fairly cried like a child. i was now the object of attention to every boy in the school. each boy took his quiet look and grin at me whenever he could take his eyes from his euclid without being seen by mr monk, and this continued till the clock struck the hour, when mr monk shouted, "close books! come up, jones and hunt!" two boys left their seats and went to the master, who took their books from them and inquired, "what proposition?" "eighth of the second," said jones. "go on, then," said the master; and away went jones, repeating like a parrot a number of lines about a to b, etc. i listened to this because it was not only all new to me, but because i fancied that very shortly i should follow probably the course of this boy. jones went on without a stop till he had finished his proposition, when, with a look of delight, he left the room. the boy called hunt now commenced his proposition, but before he had gone over a dozen lines he began to hesitate, then to stop altogether, and finally burst out crying. my first idea was that his heart was very much in his work, and that his pride was hurt at having failed in his lesson; but i was soon to be undeceived in this respect. hunt was sent into a corner of the room, where he sat looking the picture of misery, and another boy was called upon by the master to say his euclid. about fifteen boys were allotted to mr monk, and out of these three remained in school, having "failed," as it was termed. as the last boy was sent into the corner mr hostler came into the room, looking particularly smiling and active. he carried in his hand a short black stick, which i afterwards learned was whalebone. seeing me standing on a stool he said, "hullo! in trouble already? ah! i thought you were not as quiet as you looked. what's he been doing, mr monk?" i listened with astonishment at the statement of my offences. first i had tried to show off before the boys by trying to chaff the master by saying if he looked with a microscope at a line it would show euclid was wrong; then i suddenly took a dislike to a boy and threw a book at his head. mr hostler listened to this account very quietly, and then turning to me said, "now look here; i've done a great favour to your friends by letting you come here. there's lots would have given a fifty-pound note to get their sons into my establishment. now, i'm a good mind to pack you off to-day, but i'll give you another trial, so you just look out." i was trying to say something in my defence, but the words hung fire and would not come out, and it was, perhaps, as well i did not say anything, for it would not have been attended to, as mr hostler was now inquiring about the boys who had failed. "so you have failed again, hunt," said mr hostler. "here, you come up, then, and take your three." hunt left his seat and commenced crying, whilst he blew on and then rubbed his hand in what appeared to me a most singular manner. the reason for this latter proceeding i was soon to learn, for as he came near mr hostler he held out his hand as though to show he had nothing in it--the fingers quite straight and the palm horizontal. mr hostler took his whalebone stick in his right hand, made one or two feints, and then delivered a smart blow on the boy's hand. the sound of this blow indicated its severity, but the contortions of the boy also showed that there was no mistake as to the punishment intended. "out with it again?" said mr hostler, who now seemed in his element, and who jumped about and flourished his whalebone as if he were riding a race. "two more. ah! no shirking. there, that doesn't count." these remarks were uttered as he made an up-cut on the knuckles of the boy, who dropped his hand to avoid the full force of the expected blow. "there, you got that!" exclaimed hostler, as he delivered a smart cut full on the fingers of hunt's hands, and elicited a cry of pain as the boy trembled with nervousness and agony. "now for the last!" said hostler. "quick about it! there you are! now don't you fail again!" hunt passed me on his way out of the room, and i saw on his hand two blue-looking streaks, that were swollen as though a hot iron had been passed over them. he was crying, but seemed to think less of his pain than i fancied he would. the other boys that had failed were had up by hostler in the same manner, and each treated to three cuts on the hand with the whalebone. "now, shepard," said hostler, "let's hear you your definitions. come along sharp, sir; don't lounge like that?" hostler here caught me by the shoulder, and shouting "come up--hi! hi!" shook me almost out of my clothes. "i'll wake you up, i will. you've been asleep all your life," he continued. "now then, go on:--a point--" "a point," i said, "is--a point is part of magnitude." "i'll parts of magnitude you!" said hostler. "you've been an hour doing nothing. you ought to have three cuts, but i'll let you off as it's the first time; but you stop in till you know this." i now found myself the only boy in the school, where all was as quiet as before it had been noisy. i sat for some minutes as though in a dream. was all this real? i asked myself, and had i to go through such scenes for a year before i became an engineer officer, or even a cadet? the feeling of loneliness was mixed with utter surprise and astonishment that there should be such a place as this school in england, and that the course here adopted should be found necessary, in order that boys should become learned enough for officers. my thoughts wandered from the schoolroom. i was in the shady paths of the grand old forest, where i had passed my early life, and i compared my present condition with that which it would have been had i remained at home. i thought of howard, and wondered whether he as a boy had passed through such an ordeal as this school offered; and as i believed it possible he had done so, i began to learn a lesson which only those learn who have themselves had to win their way to excellence by hard work and by surmounting difficulties. this essential lesson is one that too many never learn. when we are witnesses of skill in anything, too many forget that this skill is the result of long thought, labour and perseverance. we too often fail to recollect the hours of wearying labour that have been devoted to the acquirement of those qualifications which, when seen in the results, are much admired. the mathematician or geometrician who attains to eminence must have devoted many years' labour to these subjects, whilst the artist, musician or writer must also have laboured many weary years before he attained even to mediocrity. even those who excel in games of skill, such as chess, draughts, whist, billiards, cricket, or rackets, must be men who think deeply, and reason on what they see others do, as well as on what they do themselves. when, then, we see excellence in anything, those who have themselves arrived at excellence appreciate skill in others, because ever before them is the idea of the hard work and hard thought that most have been gone through before proficiency could be reached. those, however, who never have worked to any purpose, who have idled all their lives and failed to attain even mediocrity in anything, usually fail to appreciate in others excellence or skill, and when, after long perseverance and thought, any successful results have been won, idlers not unfrequently term such a result "good luck." when i had seen howard, and had been impressed by his apparent knowledge and skill on all subjects, i was ambitious at once of being like him. in my ignorance i fancied that just as i grew taller by no thought or trouble, so i might become an officer like him by merely allowing time to work out its course. that i should have to labour, to work my brain in a manner i had never before even dreamed of, had never occurred to me. now, however, i began to realise the fact that i was a dunce, and that my brain was feeble merely from want of use, and that i was not capable of competing with other boys of my own age, because their brains had been active and used when mine had been merely idle. i was like a horse suddenly taken up from grass, and worked with one that had been thoroughly trained for many months. my brain was flabby and feeble, without that vigour which is requisite for any mental labour. i could feel a presentiment that there was even a greater exposure of my ignorance coming than had yet taken place. under the most favourable circumstances of quiet which i enjoyed at home, a long-division sum always took me some time, and, though i was supposed to know as far as fractions in arithmetic, yet i was very shaky in a rule-of-three sum, and i knew that, hustled as i was at hostler's, i should breakdown at what perhaps i might accomplish if left quietly to myself. i found that it was downright exhaustive work to remember the definitions before me. i knew them for a minute, then they left me, and as i realised my state i buried my head in my hands, and felt overcome with despair. suddenly the door opened, and hostler appeared and said, "now, shepard, do you know your definitions?" "no, sir," i replied; "it is very hard for me to learn them." i expected him to take me out for my three cuts, but instead of this he sat down beside me and said, "now, look here; you've got to learn how to learn. i see you're been a spoiled child--your mother's pet, i suppose--and have never worked at all, only just fudged on. now you begin really, and of course it's all new to you. now just listen to me." "please, sir," i said, "my mother died when i was a baby, and i never was what you call spoiled by her." "ah, well, i'm very sorry i said that, but of course i didn't know it; never mind, now try and follow me. a point is that which has no parts and no magnitude--that means, that it's only an imaginary spot, without any size about it. do you understand that?" "yes, i think i do." "then a line is length without breadth--that is, if i draw an imaginary line from here to the moon, that line has length, but it has no breadth. now think over these, and learn them again to-morrow, and you may go out and join the other boys in the playground." it was quite a relief to me to have this conversation with mr hostler, for i felt that i could learn after a time, though at first i experienced all the difficulties of novelty in everything i attempted. chapter four. experiences at school--my first fight. on entering the playground i saw about forty boys amusing themselves in various ways. some were jumping with a pole, others were leaping over a tape, whilst several were talking in groups. as i approached the ground, i heard several boys call out, "here he is!" "now where's fraser?" whilst eight or ten boys came round me, and seemed looking at me as a curiosity. "you're going to be an engineer, aren't you?" said one boy. "yes," i replied. a shout of laughter was the result of this remark of mine, the reason for which i could not comprehend. "you're very clever, i suppose," said the same boy; "an awful hand at swat." "i can do rule-of-three," i replied. "lor! what a clever fellow!" replied the boy. "i say," he shouted, "ansell, james, come here! we have a sir isaac newton here!" as he called, four or five boys came up and joined the others near me. "he's going to be an engineer," said the same boy; "and he knows rule-of-three! isn't he likely to get them?" "where have you come from?" asked another boy. "from the new forest, hampshire," i replied. "then you'd better go back to the new forest, hampshire, and feed the pigs there." "you are very rude," i said, "to speak like that." a shout of laughter greeted this speech, whilst the same boy intimated that i was "a confounded young prig!" "oh, here you are!" said fraser, who suddenly appeared on the scene. "i've been looking for you. what do you mean by shying a book at me?" "why, you kicked me for no reason at all," i replied. "it is i who have cause to complain of you." "oh, you have, have you? then take that?" before i knew what was going to be done, fraser suddenly struck me full in the face. the blow was so severe that for a second or two i scarcely knew what had happened. then, however, i realised the fact, and, rushing at fraser, i struck wildly at him. without seeming to disturb himself much, fraser either guarded off my blows or quickly dodged so as to avoid them; and when he saw an opportunity, as he soon did, he punished me severely. fraser was smaller than i was, but was certainly stouter, and he possessed what i did not, viz, skill in the use of his fists. this was the first fight i had ever been in, whilst he was an old hand at pugilistic encounters. the result, consequently, was what might be expected, viz, in ten minutes i was entirely beaten, all my strength seemed gone, and i was unable to raise a hand in my defence. "don't you shy a book at me again," said fraser as he left me leaning against the wall, trying to recover myself. "bravo, fraser! well done!" said one or two boys who had formed a ring round us as we fought. not a boy seemed to pity me, or to be disposed to help me, and i felt as utterly miserable as a boy could feel. as i leant against the wall, with my handkerchief to my nose, a boy named strong came up and said,-"you'd better wash the blood off your face, shepard, or there'll be a row." "i don't care," i replied, "whether there's a row or not." "come along," said strong; "don't be downhearted. fraser is an awful mill and a great bully, and always bullies a new boy just to show off his fighting. come and wash your face." i went with strong, and removed as much as possible the evidence of my late combat--strong all the time trying his best to cheer me up. "you've never been at a boarding-school before?" said strong inquiringly. "no; and i don't think i shall stop here long," i replied. "oh, there will be another new boy soon, and then you'll lead an easy life." "but is every new boy treated as i am?" "well, very nearly the same. then they are down upon you because you boasted you were going to get the engineers'." "boasted? i didn't mean to boast. i came here to prepare for the engineers." "but don't you know that it's only about one in twenty who go to the academy who are clever enough for the engineers? and when you say you are going to be an engineer it looks like boasting. you may be very clever, and a first-rate hand at euclid and swat; but it doesn't do to boast." this speech opened my eyes at once. in my ignorance i knew no difference between being an engineer or anything else; but i now saw why it was that all the boys seemed to make such game of me when i said i was intended for the engineers, as it was like asserting that i was very clever, and claiming to have it in my power to beat nineteen out of twenty boys who might compete with me. i now began to realise it as a fact that i was utterly ignorant on nearly every subject that was likely to be of use to me at mr hostler's. i knew nothing either of schoolboys or school-life. to me it seemed most ungenerous that i should be laughed at because i made a mistake, not knowing that schoolboys as a rule are disposed to make butts of those who are not as well acquainted as themselves with the few facts on which they pride themselves. in the afternoon of this my first day at mr hostler's, my pride again received a severe blow. the subject studied in the afternoon was arithmetic and algebra; and on coming into the schoolroom mr monk asked me where i had left off in arithmetic. in order not to make any mistake, i replied that rule-of-three was what i had last done. i remember well that aunt emma, who used to teach me arithmetic, had a book out of which she used to copy a sum of a very simple nature, but which she as well as i thought at the time rather difficult. she then used to show me an example to point out how it was done; and, when i had finished it, used to compare my answer with that given in the book. she was rather hazy about the problem as a rule, and never ventured to give me any explanation as to where i was wrong in case my answer did not correspond with that in the book; but still i was supposed to have learnt rule-of-three, though i soon found out my mistake. the style of questions that i used to solve at home were such as the following:-"if a bushel of coals costs two shillings and sixpence, what would be the price of fifty bushels?" these i could fairly accomplish without much probability of making a mistake; and so i hoped i might succeed in passing mr monk's examination of my rule-of-three. "just write down this question," said mr monk; "we shall soon see if you know anything about rule-of-three." the following question was then dictated to me:-"if 10 men and 6 boys dig a trench 100 feet long, 8 feet wide, and 5 feet deep, in 12 days, how many boys ought to be employed to dig a trench 200 feet long, 3 feet deep, and 6 feet wide, in 8 days, if only 5 men were employed, 2 boys being supposed equal to 1 man?" as i read over this question i felt my heart sink within me. i knew i could not do it properly, and that i should again expose myself to ridicule in having said i could accomplish rule-of-three, when, if this were rule-of-three, i knew nothing of it. i sat for several minutes looking at the question, and trying to discover some means for its solution. boys were mixed in my mind with ditches, men with days, and deep holes with width. at least a quarter of an hour passed without my making the slightest advance in the way of solution; at the end of this time mr monk looked at my slate and said,-"so you don't seem to know much about rule-of-three?" "i never saw a sum like this before," i replied. "then why did you tell me that you could do rule-of-three? do you know your multiplication table?" "yes," i replied. "what's 12 times 11?" he inquired. now, of all the multiplication table, 11 times anything was to me the easiest, because i remembered that two similar figures, such as 66, was 6 times 11, 77 was seven times 11, and so on; but 12 times 11 was a number i was always rather shaky about. i hesitated a moment and then made a wild rush at it, and said, "one hundred and twenty-one?" mr monk looked at me with a mingled expression of pity and contempt, and said, "you're nearly fifteen, and you don't know your multiplication table, and yet you think you're going to be an engineer! why there's not a boy at the charity-school who at twelve does not know more than you!" i listened attentively to this remark, for i felt that mr monk was a prophet. it was quite true that i was a dunce. i had learnt it, and realised it in half a day. it had been forcibly impressed on me as i tried to learn euclid, as i was ignominiously defeated by fraser in a pugilistic encounter in something like ten minutes, and now when it was proved to me! did not know my multiplication table. "you'd better commence at simple addition," said monk, "and work your way up. you can't join any class; there's no one so backward as you are. your nursemaid ought to have taught you these things. at mr hostler's we don't expect to have to teach even arithmetic. it will take you three years to get up to quadratics!" "well, mr monk," said hostler, bustling into the room, "i hope shepard is well up in his algebra?" "he doesn't even know his multiplication table?" said monk. hostler stared at me much as he would at a dog with only two legs or a bird with one wing. having given me a long searching look, under which i blushed and felt inclined to shrink under the form, he said,-"poor fellow! your friends have got a lot to answer for! what a pity it is, mr monk, that in civilised england people who are gentlefolks are not compelled by law to educate their children! look at this boy, now. i dare say, at home and in the country, he was thought to be fit to run alone; and yet there he is, a regular dunce! now, shepard," he said, "you must begin to learn; you must work hard; and if there's no chance of your getting into the academy, why, what you learn here will always be of use to you; so don't be idle." having made this remark, mr hostler went about the school, looking at the slates of the various boys, talking to several, and explaining their problems to them. as for me, i was soon busily engaged in adding up a long row of pounds, shillings, and pence, which i did not accomplish without three times failing to obtain the right total. at length, however, i was successful, just as it was time to turn out for our afternoon walk. on going to bed that night i seemed to have passed through more, and to have gained more experience in that one day that i had in years before. i had learnt that i knew nothing--that my supposed knowledge was not real--that i was, in fact, a dunce, far behind all other boys of my own age--that i was weak in physical strength--and though my sisters used to think me awfully strong, yet this, too, was a mistake. mixed with the depressing effect of this knowledge there was, however, a slight feeling of satisfaction in knowing that now at least i was among realities, whilst before i was among dreams. i had, too, a kind of presentiment that i had within me a capacity for doing work, if i could only get in the way of it. when i used to help my father in his microscope work, and sketched some of the wonderful details of the wings, legs, or bodies of the insects i saw, he always prophesied that i should do great things some day. now, however, i realised the fact that i was a dunce--that i was so far behind other boys that it was improbable i could ever catch them up, and so to expect to excel was out of the question; if i could only attain to mediocrity i should be satisfied. such thoughts passed through my mind as i dozed off to sleep, and dreamed i was untangling a skein of wire, that as fast as i undid one part another portion gathered itself in a knot. suddenly i felt a choking sensation, and started up in bed with a strange bewildered feeling over me. the room was quite dark, and i could not see one of the ten beds occupied by the other boys in the room. i, however, heard a slight noise as of some one getting into bed, and then a smothered laugh. as i fully awoke i found i was drenched with water and my bed and pillow were wet--a fact i was much puzzled at. as i sat up, wondering what had happened, a boy called out, "shepard! what are you about?" "i am wet through, somehow," i said. "ah! some one has given you a `cold pig,' i suppose, because you snored so. don't you make such a row again." when i was at home it was instilled into me that it was almost certain death to sleep in a damp bed, and numerous instances were quoted to me of persons who had either died of consumption, or been cripples for life in consequence of sleeping in wet sheets. in the present instance, however, there was no help for it. i must either sit up all night, or sleep in the bed, wet as it was. i was so completely tired, so utterly worn out, bodily and mentally, that i did not care who it was had thrown the water on me. my head ached, from over-thought as much as from the blows i had received in my fight, and i again laid down in the wet bed, and slept as well as though in my own room at home. i had not half completed what would have been a fair night's rest under ordinary conditions when i was awoke by the shrill voice of a boy shouting "quarter!" i at first imagined this cry might mean something connected with a battle, and that the enemy were calling out for quarter; but on fully awaking i found each boy jumping up, and rushing to a basin of water and washing in the greatest haste. i followed the example set me by the other boys, from whom i learnt that we all had to be in the schoolroom by six o'clock, and any boy who was not in the room when the clock struck got no breakfast. we all rushed from our room about a minute before the clock struck, and entered the school where i had been on the previous day; and i then found that between six and seven a proposition in euclid had to be learnt on nearly every morning. so i was at once started at my definitions. in the hour allotted i managed to learn my definitions, and said them to the satisfaction of mr monk, and was able, therefore, to go out with the other boys for the half-hour preceding breakfast. during the next two days our routine was very similar to that of the first day. i soon fully realised the fact that i was more backward, if not more stupid, than any boy in the school; and i also learnt that no one believed it possible i could ever be prepared to pass the examination for entrance to the academy. there were boys at the school of only twelve years of age, who were far beyond me, who were not to be sent up for examination until they were fifteen years of age. in those days a boy was allowed only one trial for entrance, and if he then failed he never had another given him; and he consequently lost all chance of becoming a cadet. so it was, at least, a prudent precaution to keep a boy at school until he was well qualified to pass his examination. there was also then, as now, considerable rivalry amongst the schoolmasters who prepared for woolwich academy, and it was considered a feather in the cap of the individual who had prepared the first boy on the list. to send up any boy, therefore, badly prepared was imprudent, and also not likely to reflect any credit on the establishment from which he had been sent. i used my best endeavours to get on, but found that my brain would not work as would that of other boys: it seemed like a limb that has not been used for many weeks and is suddenly called upon for some hard work; it becomes stiff and unable to work in a very short time. i also noticed that none of the masters seemed to take much trouble about me. it appeared as though they had agreed that i was not in the race for the academy, and therefore it was unnecessary for them to trouble themselves much about me. in three days an entire change had come over me. i had lost all pride in myself, and felt that i must merely drag on an existence at this school for a time. i had not the courage to write to my father and tell him it was impossible i could pass my examination, as i was such a dunce; for i knew such an announcement would not be believed by him, or, if believed, it would be most unpleasant news. i hoped, too, that it was possible i might by practice get accustomed to the noise at the school, and might, like other boys, be able to learn like a parrot the problems in euclid. my life was certainly a most miserable one. i was still the last new boy, and as such had various tricks played upon me; but it seemed that my nature was somehow changed, and that i did not feel as sensitively as i did on first joining mr hostler's. one day per week at mr hostler's was devoted to drawing of various kinds, and languages; and this day was a great relaxation after the perpetual euclid, arithmetic, or algebra. i rather looked forward, also, to seeing mr walkwell, the drawing-master, who, i was told, was very amusing and quite a character, and who was very fond of boys. on going into school after breakfast, i saw mr walkwell. he was a short, spare man, with a flexible face, which he had the power of altering in a marvellous manner. his arms and legs also he could swing about in a wild kind of way that seemed quite dangerous. as we all entered the school, mr walkwell called out in a deep, loud voice that one would scarcely believe possible could emanate from so small a man,-"every boy to his seat instantly?" each boy jumped into a place except myself, and, not knowing where to go, i stood looking at mr walkwell. "new boy," said mr walkwell, pointing his finger at me threateningly. "new boy! see. ought to be an artist. large perceptives, comparison well developed, ideality large, temperament nervous. new boy, you can draw?" "no, sir," i said, "i can't draw." "what's your name, new boy?" "shepard, sir." "gentle shepard--not of salisbury plains--come and sit here. that's always to be your place. now, boys, listen to the three great rules of drawing." mr walkwell here took a piece of chalk and sketched on a black board in about half a dozen lines a small landscape. as he drew these lines, he said,-"listen, boys! there are three rules in drawing to be attended to. there is the distant, or delicate--see here the distant hills; the middle ground, or spirited; and the foreground, or bold." as he completed his remarks, he lowered his voice from the high falsetto at which he had commenced to the deepest base, whilst at the same time he ran his chalk about in a most skilful manner over the lines he had drawn, and filled in a very effective landscape. "now, shepard," he said, "you, as new boy, always remember these golden rules, and you must draw. take a pencil now and copy this gate." i was here given a copy, a piece of drawing-paper, and a spare piece of paper to try my pencil on. i very soon copied the gate, and then amused myself in sketching a yacht, such as i had seen in the solent, and making the isle of wight the distant, or delicate, and some posts the foreground, or bold. it was a scene i could call to mind, and i seemed to be again in hampshire, enjoying my liberty. so engrossed was i with this fancy sketch, that at first i did not notice all the boys' eyes turned on me with curiosity. i soon saw, however, that i was the object of general attention; and on looking round i saw mr walkwell leaning over me, watching what i was doing. "new boy, give me that," said mr walkwell; "you are idling." i gave up the paper, feeling certain that either three cuts on the hand or some other punishment would be given to me. mr walkwell looked at the drawing, and then at me, and then said,-"shepard, i must report you to mr hostler." "please, sir, don't!" i said; "i'll never idle again." at that instant mr hostler came into the room and said,-"well, mr walkwell, how are you? are the boys doing well?" "very fairly, sir, very fairly; but i have to report the new boy to you." "what, shepard? ah, i'm afraid he is a failure. come here, shepard!" i got up from my seat and walked up to where hostler and walkwell were standing, feeling ready to faint from nervousness. "new boy shepard, mr hostler, has told me a story. i asked him if he could draw, and he said `no,' and i have now seen him out of his own head draw this sketch, sir. look at the curve of that yacht's sails; see the way he has fore-shortened her; look how she rests on the water. why, for a man that's a work of art. that boy is an artist, sir, and he told me he couldn't draw." it is very difficult to describe my feelings during this conversation. i had twice been surprised at discovering my ignorance during the past few days, and now i had a surprise in discovering that i was possessed of a skill in drawing which was above the average. i used to amuse myself when at home in drawing on a slate vessels and boats that i had seen when i had gone down to lymington or beaulieu, but that there was any great difficulty in drawing such things i had never imagined, or had i the slightest idea that other boys could not do so well--if not better than i did. i was certainly pleased to find that there was something in which i was not a dunce; and although i was a laughing-stock of the school on account of my ignorance of mathematics and euclid, i was held up as something unusually clever in drawing. "shepard," said mr hostler, "i am glad to find you can do something well, but it's a pity you have wasted your time in learning only drawing, to the neglect of mathematics. drawing never passed a boy into the academy, and it doesn't count much afterwards. very well, mr walkwell, make a good artist of him, and he'll then have a profession always ready for him in case he wants it; but i wish, for his sake, he'd some knowledge of euclid, and less of drawing." from that day mr walkwell paid great attention to my instruction, and i improved rapidly under his tuition, and after some dozen lessons i was considered the best in the drawing-class. chapter five. mr hostler's cram-school. it was the practice for our school to be taken out for a walk on sunday mornings, and to go on to the barrack-field at woolwich, to see the march past previous to the troops going to church. at this march past the splendid band of the royal artillery used to play at the head of the regiment, whilst immediately following the band, and heading the regiment, were two companies of gentlemen cadets. at the church-parade on sundays the cadets turned out in full-dress, which consisted of white trowsers, a blue tailed coat with red facings, a shako and plume. such a dress now would look old-fashioned, but to my boyish eyes it seemed in those days the pattern of neatness, and of a soldierlike appearance. to me everything military possessed the charm of novelty, but i must own that nothing i had ever imagined previously came up, in my ideas, to the magnificent sight that i for the first time now witnessed. i had never before heard a military band, and i gazed with wonder at the immense display of musicians, headed by a splendid-looking man, arrayed in gold lace, and swinging a huge gold-headed stick, as tall as himself, which he dexterously manipulated in time with the music. there is always something spirit-stirring in the sound of martial music, and i stood entranced as the band marched past me, turned sharp to the left as though worked by machinery, and, wheeling about, faced me, as they continued the slow march they were playing. "here come the gentlemen cadets!" said some of the civilians, who by hundreds had assembled to see the sunday march past. "look how splendidly they march?" "what a fine set of young fellows!" i pushed myself into a front position as i heard these remarks, and saw advancing at a slow march a line of soldiers, moving as though they were part and parcel of each other. with heads erect, and shoulders well thrown back, this line advanced; the marching was perfect. as the leading company approached a flag, beside which were several officers, who i noticed were covered with medals, a tall cadet shouted, "bear rank take open order!" and, coming out to the front, led the company onward. so new was the sight to me, so splendid did it all appear, and so imposing, that i felt a half-choking sensation as i looked at and admired every movement. as the leading cadet passed the flag i saw him go through some movement, which concluded with his raising his hand to his cap in what i knew must be a salute. i heard murmurs of applause among the bystanders, and the deep, decided voice of an old officer at the flagstaff exclaim, "well marched, gentlemen; very well marched." there was a something, i don't know what to call it, but it seemed like a flash of intelligence passed across the faces of the cadets as they heard these words. they marched on as rigidly as ever, not a cadet an inch before or behind his neighbour, but there was a sparkle in the eye of each cadet that showed the words spoken by the officer had been heard and appreciated by front and rear rank of the cadets. "who is that officer?" i heard a civilian ask. "that is lord bloomfield, the commandant," was the reply. i looked at the commandant, and saw a handsome, soldierlike-looking man in a splendid uniform, but he was too far removed from me in years and rank to produce any special sympathy on my part; the hero of the day in my mind was the cadet who had given the order to open the ranks, whilst every one of the forty cadets forming the first company that had marched past was to me an object of admiration. at that moment i would have given much to have been one among that company, and to have marched past as they had marched. as the cadets marched before us, i could hear some of my schoolfellows calling attention to several cadets who were known to them. "there's duckworth, who passed third last christmas," said one of them. "he's second of his batch now, and is sure of the engineers, they say." "there's hobson in the rear rank, with the brass collar; he got second-class mathematical prize; and see how well jackson marches; he's an awful swell now since he got sixty runs and carried out his bat in the last match with the officers. look at that brute tims," exclaimed another; "i hope he'll be spun at his probationary, or he'll be an awful bully as an old cadet when i am a neux." these and other similar remarks i heard near me, just as a feeling of utter misery came over me as i realised the fact that it was impossible i could ever be a cadet. what i had seen on that parade had instilled into me military ambition, and if i had then and there been offered the option of a peerage or of being a gentleman cadet, i am perfectly certain i should have jumped at the chance of being a cadet. i now fully realised the absurdity of my having said at mr hostler's that i was going to be an engineer, for i had already discovered that i was, compared to other boys, a dunce, and that it required a boy to be not only very clever, but to have been thoroughly well prepared, to stand any chance of being among the first flight in the intellectual race at the academy. consequently my remarks about being an engineer, though uttered in all simplicity and ignorance by me, appeared to others as conceited and vain-glorious, as though it were announced that a screw of a horse was going to epsom to win the derby. i was now not surprised that i had been, and still remained, a laughing-stock to my schoolfellows on account of my ignorance. a third of a century has passed since that sunday morning on which i was first a witness of a military display. during the interval, many strange and wonderful scenes have passed before us, and we have seen a large portion of our globe; but we cannot recall any pageant that has produced upon us half the effect that was produced by a simple marching-past parade, in which the gentlemen cadets, as the first company of the royal artillery, marched at the head of the regiment. since those days years have produced their effect upon our mind and body, but we are convinced a far greater effect has been produced on society than on us individually. formerly any man or boy, who by labour, gallant deeds, intellectual power, or skill, had distinguished himself, and had thereby, even temporarily, gained a position of eminence, received the deference considered then due to him. to the woolwich schoolboy the gentleman cadet was a being so far above him that he was to be approached only with bated breath and whispering humbleness. to the cadet the officer was an emblem of authority and rank far above criticism, and to be treated only with respect, and obeyed without murmur. to the last-joined cadet the old cadet was an object of mingled fear and admiration--fear because, in the days of which we write, fagging was at its height, and too often was abused, and degenerated into bullying; and admiration because the old cadet had surmounted difficulties which it had yet to be proved the young cadet could surmount. what may be described as "veneration" for rank and seniority was then at its height, and impressed its influence even on the members of a cram-school such as mr hostler's. he himself, as master of the school, used his best endeavours to keep this sentiment alive. the career of those boys who had done well at the academy was often referred to by hostler, and comparisons made between what had been accomplished by other and former pupils, and what was likely to be done by those now at the school. amongst those whose reputation stood highest at hostler's i found the name of my friend howard was well known. he had done well at the academy, had gained several prizes, and had left behind him a reputation that was not likely to die out soon. in those days a boy at school used to look with a mingled feeling of respect and fear at a cadet; to be seen speaking familiarly with a cadet was enough to give a boy a position in a school, whilst an officer was regarded as belonging entirely to another order of being, whose sayings and doings were merely to be quoted as examples for future guidance. a change, however, has taken place in these things. now it is no unusual thing for the visitor to woolwich to see four or five young men at school lounging down the common arm in arm, each with his pipe in his mouth, jostling off the pavement an officer covered with medals, or puffing their tobacco-smoke in the faces of ladies, whom they almost force into the road, and eye in a half sneering, half patronising manner. to them a cadet is nothing superior in any way to themselves; an officer they imagine to be a man behind his time, and one to whom they could give lots of useful hints. let people only wait till they become officers, and (so they believe) then they will show how things should be done. others, again, in the present day, stand on what they imagine their rights, and will not admit that any deference is due to either age, rank, or experience--a sentiment largely demonstrated during the reign of the paris commune, a sort of "down with everything that's up" style, that is more dangerous to a country than are the armies of her enemies. thirty years ago such sentiments had little hold in england, and none whatever among those who were candidates for woolwich, or who wore the coveted uniform of a gentleman cadet; and we cannot but think that much of that military devotion which so characterised every branch of the army during the earlier part of the present century was due to the _esprit de corps_ felt by all officers at that time, when soldiering was not so much a business as an honourable profession. that men of the anglo-saxon race should ever fail in courage, or in a sense of duty, is not likely, but there is a marked difference between work done from a sense of duty and that done _con amore_; and where discontent is not unknown, we too often find mere duty is most irksome. during four months that i remained at mr hostler's, previous to a brief vacation, i made very slow progress; it seemed to me that there was a disinclination on the part of the masters to push me forward. i was kept over and over again at the same things, whilst other boys were pushed on to more advanced subjects. i had obtained a reputation for being stupid and having no capacity for mathematics, and this case seemed an example of giving a dog a bad name, and you may as well hang him. the neglect with which i was treated produced its effect on me, for i failed to use all my powers to advance, as it seemed a useless effort on my part; so i only did as much as would save me from the whalebone cane, and this i often failed to escape. i hailed with delight the day that i left mr hostler's for a three weeks' holiday, for i hoped i should never return, as i intended to explain to my father how matters were, and to get him either to send me to another school, or to withdraw me entirely from the proposed competition for woolwich. i had a keen sense of the discredit that would attach to me if i went up for my examination and failed, for i knew slightly a boy near salisbury, who had been prepared for woolwich, had gone up to the academy, and been, as it was termed, "spun." many persons who knew nothing of the difficulty of the examination, or were unacquainted with the fact that out of forty who went up for examination it was rare for more than twenty or twenty-five to be taken, yet pitied the friends of this boy on account of his "discreditable failure," as they termed it. believing that it was no question of probability, but a certainty, that i could not qualify for my examination, i considered it would be more prudent to withdraw under some excuse, rather than go up and fail. i was also assured by several boys that mr hostler would not allow me to go up unless he was tolerably certain i should pass, as it would bring discredit on his school if i failed. it was late in the evening when i reached my father's lodge, and was welcomed by all my relatives. the change that had taken place in me was marked, and was noticed by all. i was thinner, and the care and thought of the past four months had given me an aged appearance, that made me look a year older than i was. i could scarcely conceal my feelings as my sisters hoped i was getting on splendidly, and would soon be an engineer, like howard. to enter into all the details of my difficulties with them would, i knew, be useless, and so i avoided answering them, and made up my mind to wait till i could have a quiet talk with my father, and explain matters to him. after dinner that evening i found my opportunity of speaking to my father when we were alone. i was most eager to open my heart to him, and let him know how things really stood. without any preface i suddenly said, "i want to tell you, there's no possible chance of my passing for a cadet." "no chance! what do you mean? why, it's nearly ten months to your examination! don't you mean to try?" "i may try all i can, and yet it's impossible; it would take me two years to get into the class that goes up for examination." "mr hostler thinks differently, bob, for he says that he hopes you will pass, if you will work; but that up to the present time you have been very idle." i listened with astonishment to my father's remarks, and could hardly believe it possible that mr hostler had written such words. my doubts, however, were soon removed, by the production of mr hostler's letter, in which were the very words quoted. i knew that what i had stated was correct, and that mr hostler knew, even better than i did, that there was no chance of my success; but at the time i had no idea of the reason for his sending such a letter to my father. it was, i found, the intention to send me back to hostler's at the termination of my three weeks' vacation, and i began to count the days and hours of liberty previous to that, to me, unpleasant period. on the following morning i received an invitation from howard, asking me to go over and pass a few days with him, and, having obtained my father's consent, i started for his lodgings, which were at a farm-house near lyndhurst. howard was now to me even a greater hero than he had formerly appeared. i looked on him as one who had passed a distinguished career at woolwich, and had also been abroad, and i felt somewhat afraid of him now that i knew how much he had done. he was, however, so kind and friendly that i was soon at my ease, and as we sat at our _tete-a-tete_ dinner i found myself telling him all my disappointments, hopes, and fears at mr hostler's, and my difficulties as regarded the future. howard seemed much amused at all i told him, and said that the first thing he must teach me was to be a good "mill,"--that meant, how to use my fists. he did not mean to bother me with work, as he believed i wanted rest more than anything; but he promised to write to hostler, and ask him to push me on, and he thought that, although it was difficult, yet it was by no means impossible i might pass. on the following morning, soon after breakfast, howard produced a pair of boxing-gloves, and, taking a seat on a chair, gave me instruction in what he called "the noble art of self-defence." he first showed me how to stand, how to raise and hold my fists, how to strike out and make the foot and hand work together. he pointed out the danger of an open guard by giving me light taps in the face, and then explained how to guard them. "we'll have an hour a day at this fun," he said, "while you are here, and i'll back you to lick fraser when you go back to woolwich. there's nothing that can't be done by thought and work." during the week i passed with howard i changed from a condition of despondency to one of hope. i learnt from him the power to be derived from thought and work. he explained to me his own difficulties, and how he had overcome them, and encouraged me by saying that, although i was backward, he believed i had brains enough to come to the front after all. by constant practice i had become, as he said, quite a "dab" with my fists, and ought to hold my own with heavier weights than myself. "don't you ever seek a fight," he advised, "if you are even sure to win, because that's bad style; but, if a boy tries to bully you, never avoid a fight, and you'll soon find you'll lead an easier life, even though you get licked." i returned home from my visit to howard with a lighter heart than i had gone there, for hope now took the place of despair. if i could only manage to pass into the academy, i thought, what a triumph it would be! but then the knowledge of the work before me cropped up, and it seemed as impossible i could accomplish what i had to do as that i could accomplish flying, or any other impossibility. any way, i would try hard on my return to hostler's, and perhaps he would now push me on faster than he had done before. my three weeks soon passed, and i once more joined hostler's school at woolwich. there were two new boys, who had, however, been to other schools, and were fairly forward both in euclid and algebra, and got on very well after the first few days. i soon became better friends than i had been with strong and two or three other boys; but fraser, who was the bully of the school, was still very uncivil to me, and more than once had threatened to thrash me if i interfered with him. remembering the advice that howard had given me, i told strong one day that if fraser gave me any reason for doing so, i intended to challenge him to fight. strong warned me against doing anything so rash, for he assured me he knew a case where fraser had completely cut a boy's cheek open in a fight, and that i should not be able to stand up against him for five minutes. chapter six. my first victory. it was about a month after i had returned from my vacation that mr hostler gave us a holiday, and arrangements were made for our playing a match of cricket on lessness heath, a piece of open ground near belvedere. each boy took out his lunch, and the whole school turned out for the day, mr monk being in charge of us. we walked to belvedere, and soon arranged sides and commenced our match--mr monk leaving us to take care of ourselves whilst he went down to erith to see some friends. after my side had been in and scored forty runs, the other eleven, of which fraser was one, went in, and had scored thirty-six runs, when fraser, who had retained his bat during the whole match, was "stumped," and given out by the boy who was umpire. fraser disputed the decision, and refused to go out, although even his own side owned that there was no doubt about it. at this fraser became very angry, and declared he would not give in as he had never gone out of his ground. i stood "point," and saw he was more than a foot out of his ground when stumped by the wicket-keeper, and, on being appealed to, said there was no doubt about it. no sooner had i said so than fraser dropped his bat and rushed at me, striking me on the side of the head. in an instant i returned the blow, and a fight commenced. several of the older boys, seeing there was to be a fight, suggested we should go into a gravel-pit near the heath, as we should not be seen there, and if mr monk came back we should be able to see him from a distance, before he saw us. we both went to the gravel-pit, and a ring was formed--strong acting as my second, whilst the majority of the boys, feeling that fraser was in the wrong, were on my side. the reputation, however, which fraser had obtained as a "mill" caused several of the smaller boys to stand by him for fear of future punishment if they excited his displeasure. we were soon opposite to one another, with our coats off, and our shirt sleeves rolled up, ready to commence, most of the boys looking upon my defeat as certain, and half afraid lest i should be severely punished by my opponent. fraser was confident of success, and exclaimed, "i'll soon stop your cheek for you; now look out!" he made a rush at me, hitting out vigorously, but i remembered howard's advice, and determined to keep my head, and try to put in practice what he had taught me. i guarded myself against fraser's blows, and succeeded in twice giving him straight hits in the face without receiving a touch from him in return. the first round seemed to astonish every one, but none more than fraser himself. when he had thrashed me before, i knew no more about the use of my fists than a girl, and simply stood up to be knocked about. now, however, i made use of my legs as well as my fists, and jumped away from fraser's rushes and blows as expertly as a cat; whilst i instantly recovered myself, and, making my hand and foot keep time, dealt two or three such staggering blows that fraser was quite bewildered. there is nothing that so soon puts off a bully, or a man accustomed to easy victory, as being "collared." the effect is not unusually to make the too confident man lose his head, forget his skill, and fall an easy victim to his opponent. this was the case with fraser. in the second round he hit wildly and unskilfully at me, and exposed himself to my blows several times, opportunities which i did not neglect, and, finally, i gave him a fair knock-down blow. there were now cries of "bravo, shepard!" whilst several small boys who had been quietly watching the fight, and who had been bullied by fraser on former occasions, jumped about outside the ring with a delight that they did not attempt to conceal. three more rounds were fought, during each of which i became more and more confident, as my fear of my adversary's skill and strength was gradually dispelled, and at the sixth round i commenced the attack and completely knocked fraser out of time. cheers greeted my victory, whilst i was patted on the back by nearly all the boys, and looked at with admiration by the smallest. even the older boys looked at me with surprise, for, excepting one blow on the cheek, i was unmarked, and seemed untouched. strong helped me on with my jacket, and seemed quite delighted at my victory. "this is a great day for you," he said. "there's no one in the school can lick you now; but i'm astonished to find what a mill you are, for six months ago you knew nothing about it." "ah," i replied, "i did know nothing then but i determined to learn something, and so i got a friend to teach me. who do you think gave me lessons?" "i can't guess." "why howard, who was at the academy some years ago." "howard!" exclaimed strong. "why, he was the best boxer that was ever at the academy, and it was he who licked the prizefighter at charlton fair. no wonder you thrashed fraser so easily." fraser took his defeat with a very bad grace. he was a good deal punished, and i was surprised myself at the effect of my blows. it was my first experience of the result of skill in opposition to brute force, and of the advantage of practice before attempting any performance. it was a small thing, it was true, to merely thrash the bully of a school, but the means by which i had achieved this performance gave me a lesson that has never been forgotten. labour and thought were the means by which i had gained this victory, as they are the means by which nearly every successful result in life is achieved. from that day i took quite a different position in the school, and led a life free from quizzing or bullying. fraser hated me, but he feared me too, and to make up for his dislike i found the generality of the boys now sought my society, and always tried to walk with me when we went out for our daily constitutionals. it is a small thing at a school or in afterlife that makes the difference between popularity and unpopularity. four months passed after my return from my vacation, and my life at mr hostler's had grown into a sort of routine. i went through the various daily works there much as did the other boys; but i was not advanced as were the other pupils, and as the time went on and drew nearer to the limit of age at which i could go up for examination i felt more and more certain that my chances of being prepared grew less and less. there were now only six months to the date of my examination, and i had not commenced algebra, yet i had to take up cubic equations and three books of euclid. in this difficulty and anxiety i wrote to howard, and told him all my fears and anxieties. as i penned my letter to him i felt ill, and out of health and unfit to do anything; but i sent off the letter, and then hoped i should be more at my ease. on the following morning, when the "quarter" was shouted as usual, i tried to get up, but was unable to stand, and i knew i was very ill. i asked one of the boys to tell mr hostler i was too ill to get up, and in an hour a doctor came and immediately ordered me to be removed to a separate room, where i was physicked and attended by an old servant, who acted as nurse to the establishment. i became worse during the day, and at night was delirious, and it was then known that i had a bad attack of measles. during three weeks i was confined to bed, and of course made no progress towards qualifying for my examination, and at the end of that time was only able to walk about my room. it happened that the room in which i had been ill was separated by only a thin partition from a room in which mr hostler usually saw visitors, and what was said in the next room could be easily heard in mine. i was sitting one evening looking out of my window and wondering what my future would be, when i heard mr hostler's voice in the next room, and my own name mentioned. i listened eagerly to what was said, for i fancied it might be howard come to see me; but i was soon undeceived, for the second person i ascertained was monk. "you see," said hostler, "next examination we must send up hort and fox, and perhaps two more. they will pass well, but fraser we will keep another half. it won't do to send up more than four; besides, i can easily keep him back, on account of his french being bad. shepard, of course, i never intended to send up. he won't do us any credit, and he can't pass. i'll keep him another month, and then will write to his father, and tell him that this attack of measles destroyed what little chance he had of passing. i think a boy ought to be here at least two years before he goes up, so as to be well grounded; and if shepard did go up, and did pass by cramming, it would make the parents of other boys discontented if i kept their sons two years." i listened to these words as i should to the revelation of an enemy's plot against me. i now saw why i had been kept back, and why no hurry had been adopted to qualify me for my examination. my blood boiled with rage, as i felt that i had been, sacrificed to the personal interest of hostler; and i at once wrote a letter to my father, telling him what i knew of mr hostler's intentions. several days passed without my receiving any answer from home, but at length i received a letter from my aunt, saying my father was too busy to write, and had requested her to reply to me. she said my father was much displeased with me for my suspicions of mr hostler--that i was like most idle schoolboys who disliked their tutors--that mr hostler had written home before i was ill, saying that i was idle, and that all the special attention he was giving me did not seem to have the desired effect, and that he feared i should not qualify. these faults she said she could quite understand, as when under her tuition she had always found me more fond of play than of work. at the receipt of this letter i was at a loss what to do. it seemed as if there was a plot against me, and i was helpless to make the truth known. as a last resource i wrote to howard, and begged of him to come and see me. three days after posting this letter, my old nurse came into my room and said a gentleman had come to see me, and i was to go into the dining-room. upon entering the dining-room i saw, to my delight, howard, who shook hands with me like an old friend. we drew our chairs together, and i told him how i had been kept back, and how i had heard mr hostler's remarks about me, and, lastly, how my father had been prejudiced about me. when he had heard all i had to say, he thought for a minute and then said, "i don't believe hostler is a bad fellow at heart, and he, no doubt, fully believed that you could not pass. he has his regular routine of cramming, and won't go out of it; and, if you stop here, there is no doubt you won't pass. now i'm thinking of a plan that may succeed: it is just possible, though not probable. you've four months in which to do twelve months' work; but if it is to be done, i know the only way. there's a man in london who takes only four or five pupils; he is the cleverest fellow i know, for i worked with him half a vacation once, and he got me on wonderfully. his name is rouse. now i'll try to persuade your governor to send you there, and that's the only chance i see. i shall be back in hampshire to-morrow, and will see your governor about it." on the fourth day after howard's visit i received a letter from my father, telling me to have my trunk packed, as he proposed removing me from mr hostler's that day, and transferring me to mr rouse's. i bade my schoolfellows good-bye, most of whom were sorry i was going, and i received their condolence in being withdrawn from hostler's, as having no chance of passing my examination. at about mid-day my father came, and, after a short interview with mr hostler, sent for me. "i'm sorry you're obliged to be taken away," said hostler; "but it wouldn't be fair to your friends to keep you any longer on the chance of your passing. you've only four months now, and it would take the cleverest boy i know a year to pass. if you'd been very quick, i might have done it at first, but now it's too late! but what you've learnt at this school will be of use to you all your life." a steamer was in those days the quickest mode of conveyance from woolwich to london, and by this means we reached london bridge, and from thence drove to trinity square, tower hill, where mr rouse lived. on entering mr rouse's drawing-room we were soon joined by a clergyman, who was mr rouse himself. my father stated the case to mr rouse, and informed him of the short time before me, and of hostler having stated the impossibility of my being able to qualify in a year. "the question now is," said my father, "do you think you can qualify him for the next examination?" mr rouse smiled, and said, "you set me rather a difficult task, asking me to accomplish in four months what the celebrated mr hostler says can't be done under a year. i can only say it is not probable i can do it, but it is not impossible. it depends entirely on your son's genius and on how well he knows what he has already learnt. i shall be able to tell in a week what he is made of, and what chance there is for me." i had watched mr rouse carefully from the time i had entered the room. he was rather tall and stout, with a clear dark eye and a half-bald head. there was a sparkle in his eye that at once indicated quickness and thought, whilst his calm, decided manner spoke of a confidence in himself that was not easily shaken. in ten minutes after entering my father left me, and i was installed as a pupil of mr rouse's. "come upstairs," said rouse; "i will introduce you to your companions." i followed my new tutor upstairs, speculating on who the boys might be that i should meet, and was shown into a room that looked more like a drawing-room or study than a schoolroom. in it were three young men, whose ages might be about twenty. one was reading the _times_, another was lounging against the fireplace, and the third helping himself to a sandwich from a plate on a tray at the sideboard. "let me introduce a new pupil to you," said mr rouse, "mr shepard, who is going up for woolwich. mr robinson, mr welton, and mr wynn, addiscombe cadets. will you have some lunch, shepard?" continued mr rouse. "there's a sandwich and a glass of ale. we dine at six." i helped myself to a sandwich and a glass of ale, for i had now a tremendous appetite, as i was recovering from my late illness, and i then looked round at my companions. i felt i had come to a very different place to that i had left; my fellow-students were men, and i saw gentlemen, whilst mr rouse's manner put me at my ease at once; there was none of the bullying, blustering style there used to be in hostler, and i felt that i had made a good exchange as far as comfort was concerned, though i feared the manner of the cadets did not seem much like hard work. after about ten minutes' conversation on politics, the performances at the various theatres, and the last good thing in _punch_, mr rouse looked at his watch and said, "well, shall we commence work again?" the three cadets took chairs beside the table, and commenced reading books. mr rouse gave me a slate and said, "i must find out to-day what you know, so that we may go on safe ground. how far have you gone in mathematics?" "i have just commenced addition in algebra," i replied. "very well, i will give you a couple of questions in rule-of-three, in decimals, in fractions, and in square and cube root, and be careful about your answers." i was soon busily employed at these questions, and found little difficulty in solving them, for they seemed particularly easy questions. after a time i told mr rouse i had finished, and at once gave him the answers of each. to my surprise i found not a single answer was correct. something must be wrong i knew, but where it was i did not know. mr rouse smiled, and said, "now, have a careful look at each question, and don't be in too much of a hurry about them, for sometimes there are difficulties you may not see." i once more carefully examined the problems, and then found i had made a mistake at the very first, and had misread the questions in almost every case. i then reworked these, and eventually brought out the right answers. by the time i had completed my work the hour had arrived for leaving off study. "this evening," said mr rouse, "you can work out these questions in this paper and have the answers ready by to-morrow morning." we all dined together that evening like gentlemen. the scramble and noise that used to prevail at hostler's prevented me from ever enjoying a meal there, so that it was a luxury to sit down to a quiet dinner and to listen to the anecdotes and conversation of mr rouse. at no time, either during study hours or at meals, was there anything of the schoolmaster about mr rouse; he acted the part of a companion to perfection, and i believe it was as much by his pleasant manner, giving confidence to his pupils, and inducing them to ask his help in every difficulty, as by his knowledge, that he gained the successes he had gained at examinations. after dinner the three cadets went out. i found that my three companions were addiscombe cadets, who were going into the indian army, and who were working during the vacation to get either the artillery or engineers. they were so much older than i was, that they seemed like men to me, but they had none of the bullying manner about them that the elder boys had at hostler's. when i found myself alone in the study, at rouse's, after dinner, i felt i could work and think; everything was so quiet that i was able to get on without interruption, and the time passed rapidly and pleasantly. question after question i worked out, and by the manner in which the solutions seemed to agree with the questions, i believed i was nearly, if not quite, correct in my work. i continued thus occupied till about ten o'clock, when, having a room to myself, i went to bed, with no fear of being disturbed by a "cold pig," or the miserable cry of "quarter?" that used to awake me at hostler's. before going to sleep, however, i thought over the problems i had worked out, and fancied i had made a mistake in one, which i at once determined to re-examine, and soon found my second thoughts were correct, and that i had made an error. this was the first time i had ever worked out a problem in my head, when in bed, and the room was dark, but after this i regularly used to think over the various things i had done during the day, and try to recall each portion, and endeavour to repeat to myself what i had done. by this means i soon acquired a habit of thought quite new to me; instead of what i learnt seeming to rest only on the surface of my mind, as it had at hostler's, it seemed to impress itself on the brain, and to leave a mark so distinctly as never to be forgotten. i soon realised the fact that i was passing through a phase of mental development, produced, as i believed, by the quiet, calm, and reasonable manner in which i was now treated. night after night i used to work out the questions given me, and in the morning handed the solutions to mr rouse. in the majority of cases i was correct, but if i were wrong mr rouse would go over the work with me, giving me hints as regards the way of arranging my figures or doing portions of the work. i often smiled to myself as i compared this system of teaching with the cramming practised by hostler, and the reasonable manner in which mr rouse pointed out mistakes or want of care, with the three-cuts-on-the-hand system of hostler. i found, after a week at rouse's, i had really learnt more than i should have done at hostler's in many months; and it was not only what i had learnt, but the additional power which seemed to have come to my mind, and the consequent ease with which i grappled with problems, that a month before, in the confusion at hostler's, would have been to me unintelligible. i discovered, too, at this time, how problems that perhaps for half an hour would appear impossible of solution, if put by for a day and re-tried, would often be found practicable. this, to me, important discovery led me to never give up anything that at first i could not accomplish, but i waited day after day, till i usually found i grew up as it were, so as to surmount the difficulty. remembering what mr rouse had said relative to forming an opinion in a week, i was very anxious, as the week elapsed, to hear the result of his experience. he did not, however, mention a word to me, and i had not the courage to ask him whether he believed i had a chance of success. i worked steadily on, hoping to defer the evil day, when perhaps it would be pronounced that i had no chance. it was after i had been a fortnight at rouse's that one morning, as i read out the answers to my night's work, mr rouse said, "number six question is one you must look at carefully, for when you are at the academy you will have many such questions in your half-yearly examinations there." "do you think i have a chance of passing, then?" i exclaimed. "certainly; every chance, if you continue going on as well as you have done." these words were long remembered; they gave me hope, and they excited my ambition. if i could only pass, what a blow it would be for hostler! and what a surprise for many of the boys there, who had put me down as not only a dunce, but as too stupid to learn! i could not, however, believe there was more than a chance of success, though i had hopes now, especially when i found how easily i could solve many of the most difficult questions that mr rouse set me. week after week passed, and i was pushed on with a rapidity that surprised me. i passed through the earlier rules of algebra, came to simple equations, understood them; passed on to quadratics, and at length came to cubics. mr rouse's method of teaching was perfect. to him there was no such thing as a difficulty; if he found that i was puzzled at anything, he at once came to the rescue, and asserted that "it was a very simple thing." in a few words he would give an explanation which made the problem thoroughly clear, and often caused me to wonder how i could have been so stupid as not to see clearly before he explained the difficulty to me. on several occasions mr rouse had willingly consented to my going to the theatre, his object seeming to be to give all the liberty he could, and to impress on his pupils the importance of self-dependence. three months after joining mr rouse i was working at subjects that only the first and most advanced class attempted at hostler's. i could scarcely believe that all this was real. it had been so impressed on me at hostler's that i was intensely stupid, and that even a clever boy could not reach the first class from where i had been in less than a year, that i began to fear i must be cramming and had not a thorough sound knowledge of the subjects i was supposed to have learnt. one day i suggested this difficulty to mr rouse, telling him how slowly boys went on at hostler's, compared to the rate at which i had advanced. mr rouse replied that, instead of cramming, he hoped i had thought carefully over and thoroughly understood what i had done, and he believed i was less crammed than mr hostler's boys, whom he knew learnt most things by rote like parrots. as regards their euclid i knew this opinion was correct, for i understood now far more of geometry than i felt certain any of hostler's boys did. i could turn problems upside down, and prove principles as well as mere cases, this proficiency being due to the clear and quiet way in which mr rouse would explain the various propositions. nothing could be more satisfactory than my progress up to within a month of the examination. i felt considerable hope myself, although i could not get over the feeling that the head boys at hostler's must know much more than i knew. one morning, however, on waking, i had a very bad fit of coughing; during the day it became worse. i scarcely slept the following night, and on the next day i learnt that i had a bad attack of hooping-cough. mr rouse looked very grave at the intelligence given him by the doctor, for he knew that i had to pass a medical as well as a mental examination, and that the doctor would not allow me to pass if i had the hooping-cough. i had now to keep my bed, and was soon leached and blistered, but the cough clung to me most obstinately, and so shook me that i felt too ill to work. i was in this state to within a week of the examination, but i had made up my mind i would take my chance at woolwich, and well or ill i would go up. it has often since those days occurred to me that there is in the human mind and human will some power which, if exercised, has the effect of driving off or overcoming sickness; men, it is said, often sink and die from despondency, whilst others, by pure energy as it were, get well. to give in, as it were, to sickness often seems to increase the disease, whilst to fight against it staves it off. whether the will to get well was the cause or the effect of the improvement i cannot state, but i suddenly improved wonderfully, and three days before the examination i scarcely coughed at all, though i was weak and felt barely able to walk. the evening before the examination i started with mr rouse for woolwich, and we took up our quarters at the king's arms hotel. there were several other candidates staying in the house, who, i understood, were going up for the examination on the morrow. previous to going to bed mr rouse sat chatting with me in our sitting-room, giving me hints about the examination. "you must remember," he said, "that your success or failure does not depend on what you have done or what you have learnt either with me or at hostler's, but it depends solely on what you write on your paper to-morrow. i have known boys fail at examinations merely on account of carelessness at the examination. they knew a problem well, but they wrote so carelessly, and described so loosely, that the examiner concluded they knew nothing about the matter. after you have finished a paper, read over slowly and patiently what you have written, and you will almost always find you have made some absurdly simple mistake. i have known men go to an examination as it is said a dutchman did at a ditch. he ran a mile to get up his speed, and was then so done that, instead of jumping over, he jumped into the ditch. concentrate all your power on the work in hand; take the easiest questions first, and when you find a difficulty you can't get over, go on to another question; then you will sometimes find, on going back, that you can at once get over what before defeated you. above all things, keep quite calm and thoughtful, and do not lose your head or get into a funk." these and other similar precepts mr rouse gave me, as modern youths would style them, as "straight tips," and i thought over them before i went to sleep, and impressed them on my memory. i woke early on the following morning, and though i tried hard to avoid feeling anxious, yet i could not forget that the whole of my future career hinged on what i did on that and the following days of examination. if i failed, a slur would be on me for life, though perhaps undeserved. if i succeeded, i believed i should accomplish what many considered, if not impossible, at least improbable. after an early breakfast i walked with mr rouse towards the academy, where the examination was to be held, and on the common was joined by five of my old schoolfellows from hostler's. "what, shepard!" said one of them, "you don't mean to say you are going to try the examination? why, i heard you'd given it up!" "oh, i'm going to try, just for the fun of the thing," i replied. "if i'd been you i'd have cut the affair, for it's far better to withdraw than to have the discredit of being spun." "how hostler will laugh when he hears of your coming up!" said another of my old schoolfellows. "fraser!" shouted another boy to some one i saw about a hundred yards ahead, "come here! here's your old antagonist, shepard?" fraser waited for us to join him, and then said, "how are you, shepard? you're looking deuced seedy. what's the matter, and what are you doing here?" "i've had a bad cough," i replied, "and am coming up just for the fun of the examination." "why, you don't expect you've a chance, do you?" he continued. "hostler told us you had given it up as the wisest plan." "oh, i don't suppose i've any chance," i said; "at least, not with you fellows, but i thought i would come up to see what the examination was like." "and have it always said of you that you'd been spun at woolwich. i think you're a muff for your pains." on entering the academy grounds we were shown to one of the cadets' rooms, where we had to pass a medical examination. the marks of leeches and blisters on my chest at once attracted the doctor's attention, and he declined to pass me, and sent me at once before a board. to meet this board i had to walk down to the hospital near the barracks, which i did with a sergeant of artillery to show me the way; and i soon found myself being tapped on the chest and examined by the doctors as if i were a piece of goods they were about to buy. as good luck would have it i did not cough, or i might never have had a chance for my examination. but after a slight consultation i was passed, and was sent back to the academy to commence my examination. i was shown into a fair-sized room, where i found about forty boys at work. they had already an hour's start of me, and a short, smart-looking officer, who gave me a printed paper of questions, advised me to lose no time, as i was already behindhand. "now for the actual trial," i said to myself, as i looked over the paper, which contained twelve questions in arithmetic and the earlier part of algebra. a feeling of delight came over me as i read this paper, for out of the twelve questions there were eight almost exactly similar to questions i had worked out with mr rouse. i commenced my work without delay, but deliberately and carefully. the answers came out without difficulty, and i was tolerably certain that every question but one i had done correctly. when the time was up i gave my paper to the officer, left the academy, and met mr rouse on the common, to whom i related the style of questions, and described how i had treated them. "you ought to have done well if you have been careful," said rouse, "and i am glad to find that i was correct in my surmise as to the style of questions you would have. the style varies from time to time, but there seems a kind of order in which they return, and on this i trained you. this afternoon you will very likely have a catch equation among the quadratics, such as _x_ = 6. you remember that, don't you?" "oh, yes," i replied; "i can work that out in my head." "you must be careful about your euclid, too," he continued; "they lay great stress on that, and cramming won't do for euclid, because they give you a variation from the book, in order to test if you know principles." in the afternoon a second paper was given me; and there, sure enough, i found the identical equation that mr rouse had told me of. this i solved at once, and, looking carefully round, saw that several boys were in difficulties, and seemed to be unable to advance. during the afternoon i felt certain i had done well, and now my only fear was for my euclid, which would come off on the morrow. that evening mr rouse said, "i believe you will have one of five problems i can name in the first, second, and third books of euclid, so if you are not too tired we will just go over them to-night." an hour was devoted to the explanation of certain propositions, and i, as before, went to bed early, but was at least two hours before going to sleep, occupied in thinking over the various subjects we had worked at. on reaching the academy on the following morning i found all the candidates assembled in the room in which we had worked on the previous day. from this room the candidates were sent for one by one, in order to be examined in euclid. when it came to my turn i was shown into a small room, in which i found three officers and a civilian seated at a table, whilst opposite to them was a large black board. "mr shepard," said the civilian, "will you tell us what the 20th proposition of the first book of euclid treats of?" as this question was slowly and deliberately put i felt a strange feeling of nervousness come over me. it suddenly occurred to me, "suppose i broke down here?" i knew if i did i should be spun to a certainty, and the idea for a moment quite unnerved me. there was a dead silence for about a minute, then, in half-broken sentences, i replied, "to prove two sides greater than the third." "very well," continued the same gentleman; "will you now draw a figure on that board, and prove the problem, and be kind enough not to prove the same two sides to be greater than the third side that are proved in euclid?" i took a piece of chalk, and, though my hand trembled, i drew the first line, and then thought which two sides i should prove to be those greater than the third. as i thought over this, my nervousness seemed to leave me, and i saw nothing but the board and the problem. it would have been no matter to me whether four people or four hundred had been present, for i forgot my audience. i experienced no difficulty in demonstrating the problem, thanks to mr rouse's training; and having then demonstrated two other problems--one in the third, one in the second book--i was told that that would do. "may i ask who taught you your euclid?" inquired the examiner. "mr rouse, sir." i could not distinctly hear what was said by the examiner to the officers, but the words "that accounts" and "utterly opposed to cramming" were audible. a brief examination in drawing, in latin, french, and german, and a paper in history and geography, completed the examination; and i returned with mr rouse to london, and on the following day started by coach for home. chapter seven. passed. it was usually four or five days before the result of the examination became known, and another day for a letter to reach us in hampshire, so that i fairly calculated a week would pass before i should know my fate. the excitement of the examination, which had kept me up during the past few days, now left me, and a feeling of despondency, caused probably by reaction, came over me. my cough returned, and a low fever came on, which kept me to my bed. say what i would, i could not help being most anxious about the result of my examination. my nights were sleepless, and each morning, as the time arrived for the postman to come, i could scarcely keep in bed, as i listened to every sound in the hope of hearing that my suspense was ended. it was on the eighth day after my return home that, on the arrival of the postman, i heard anxious voices downstairs; a minute's silence, and then a rush of feet. my two sisters hurried into my room, carrying a large letter, and exclaimed,-"bob, you've passed; and have done well, too! listen to this:-"`sir,--i have the honour to inform you that at the late examination at woolwich, your son, robert shepard, was found fully qualified for admission to the royal military academy. i am directed to request that he will join that institution on the 1st proximo, and report himself to the captain of the cadet company. "`i have the honour to be, (signature)' "some one whose name i can't read," said my sister. "bravo, bob! isn't this capital? i knew you'd pass?" six months previously, if any prophet had informed me that i should pass my examination and become a gentleman cadet, i should have fancied that such a result would have caused me to shout with joy, and to be quite overcome with delight; now, however, that i had passed, and the intelligence had arrived, so as to place the result beyond a doubt, i was myself surprised at the little effect that was produced on me. although i did not like to give way to any sanguine hopes, still, when the examination was over, i felt tolerably certain i had done well. the examination had been what may be called a lucky one for me. the questions were such as i had been practising for days previous to the examination, and were consequently easy to me. my success, therefore, was not entirely a surprise to me, and i saw clearly the means by which i had gained success. at hostler's, as soon as a boy came out of school, he tried to forget all about work, and his problems, therefore, made but a small impression on him. at rouse's, however, the hours of study were so brief by comparison, and reason so completely took the place of cramming, that the mind was not worn out when the evening came, and i often found myself deliberating about a problem as i took a constitutional round the square gardens. i now knew that the hours of quiet thought i had given to various subjects had enabled me to pass the examination, which to a crammed boy was so very difficult. when i thought of mr hostler, his boys, and his prophecies about the impossibility of my passing, i felt a feeling of intense satisfaction, for i believed, in my innocence, that hostler would own he had made a mistake. i little imagined then that a man of his type of character never owns to a mistake, but invariably claims some merit to himself, even out of his blunders. i afterwards ascertained that mr hostler claimed the entire merit of my passing, in consequence, as he said, of the thoroughly sound groundwork he had given me at his school, thus enabling mr rouse to give a little superficial polish on it. i continued so weak, and my cough was so bad, that it was considered advisable to apply for sick-leave for me, which was granted, and i remained at home for seven weeks. howard had been removed to ireland, so i saw nothing of him, a fact i much regretted, as i hoped to gain from him some hints relative to my course at the academy, a subject on which i was very anxious; for i had heard various rumours, when at rouse's, of the "fagging" and "bullying," as it was termed, carried on by the older cadets on their juniors. at length the day arrived when i reached woolwich with my father, and presented myself at the office of the captain of the cadet company, where i signed a paper to the effect that i was amenable to certain laws, was appointed to a room, and then left to commence my experiences as a gentleman cadet at the royal military academy at woolwich. chapter eight. woolwich academy forty years ago--experience of a last-joined. of all the reformations which have taken place during the past thirty-five years in various establishments, none have been greater than that which has occurred at the royal military academy, woolwich. in the days of which we write fagging was an almost recognised institution, and this so-called fagging in the majority of instances degenerated into bullying. it may seem hard to say it, but we feel compelled to assert our belief that, in the majority of cases, when boys of from fifteen to eighteen have unlimited power entrusted to them they usually become tyrants. what may be termed "the exercise of power" grows more and more severe until it becomes a vice. boys as a rule are unreflecting, and they are not aware, and scarcely care if they are aware, of the misery or pain they inflict. when, too, a boy in his younger days has been bullied and ill-used, he considers it a point of duty to do unto others as was done unto him, and often this retaliation was passed on with interest. in those days it was considered, too, that fagging to a certain extent aided discipline, and also tended to do away with brute force; for the smallest cadet, if an old cadet, might fag or kick at pleasure a last-joined giant. according to the nature of an old cadet, so did his fag, or "neux," as he was termed, lead a miserable or a tolerably comfortable life; and often the trial through which a last-joined cadet had to pass was so severe that, rather than pass through it, he left the institution. to such an extent did the bullying extend in some institutions at the date to which we refer that it is stated, and on good authority, that a boy was once roasted by his seniors to such an extent that he died from his exposure to the fire, whilst there are men now living who bear on their bodies the scars received by them when fags. that such a system has been done away with is a necessity of the age. that there were and are advantages in teaching lads that brute force is not the only power, and that discipline is an essential of society, is not to be denied; but the disadvantages of entrusting to boys of from fifteen to seventeen such power over their juniors as was given by the fagging system formerly, either recognised or winked at by the authorities at woolwich, is a mistake, and it is a subject of congratulation that at the present time even fagging is discountenanced with a strong hand. -----------------------------------------------------------------------having reached the academy at an early hour, i ascertained that the cadets were then in study, or, as it was termed, "in academy." i was shown to the room to which i was posted, and was shown a bed, which was to be mine. there were four beds in the room, these beds being turned up so as to occupy little or no space. there was one window, which had laced iron bars across it, like a prison window, whilst four cupboards were opposite the fireplace. i was told that in half an hour the cadets would come out of study, when i should see holms, who was head of the room, and a corporal. i waited with considerable anxiety for this half-hour to pass, and amused myself in the meantime in noting how scanty the furniture of the room was, which consisted of a table, on which was a red cloth, and four stools. the floor was sanded, and of course had no carpet, and no other article of furniture except a small rectangular looking-glass was visible. i turned over in my mind how i should introduce myself to holms when he came in, and at length decided i would say, "mr holms, i believe! i am shepard, appointed to your room." having waited a period that seemed quite an hour, i heard a bell ring, and saw about one hundred and fifty cadets run quickly out from the centre building and form into four divisions. these four divisions remained stationary until an officer went on parade, who, having read out something from a paper, gave some word of command, and the four divisions marched off, two in one direction, two in another. one division passed the window where i was standing, but the other was dismissed at the door by which i had entered, and instantly there was the rush of feet as the whole party came into the building i was occupying. the door of my room opened, and a dark, good-looking cadet came in, and, seeing me, said,-"hullo! who are you?" "mr holms, i believe?" i said in as polite a tone as i could. "i am shepard, appointed to your room." the cadet i addressed looked at me very hard, and then burst out laughing. "you are rather green, i fancy," he said, "and you look deuced seedy. what's the matter?" "i have only just recovered from the hooping-cough," i replied; "that's why i didn't join before." "well, you must take care of yourself," said holms, "for you're not well now." another cadet now rushed into the room, to whose appearance i at once took a dislike. he had a conceited look about him, and a pale, drawn face, very different from that of holms. "hurrah!" he said, "the neux has come at last! here, timpson, come and look at the last-joined neux! he doesn't look much of a fellow, does he?" a third cadet here joined us, who was a hard-looking youth, who frowned and looked crossly at me. "he wants teaching manners," said the cadet called timpson. "what do you mean, sir, by looking at me like that? take that!" to my surprise and discomfiture, i received a heavy box on the ear which nearly knocked me down. i turned round, and for an instant i thought of returning the blow; but i recalled to mind that i had heard of a neux being all but killed who had struck on old cadet, and, instantly recollecting myself, i said,-"i did nothing to deserve such a blow as that." "you're cheeky, are you?" said timpson. "take that for your cheek!" and another blow was given me as severe as the first. "come, timpson," said holms, "you are not going to bully my neux already. he's seedy, and so let him alone. brush your hair and wash your face, for you must go on parade in ten minutes." i was half-crying now, as i was considerably hurt by the blows timpson had given me, and stood hesitating what to do. "here, brush me!" said the cadet whose name i found was snipson. i took up a brush and brushed snipson, but did this by no means to his satisfaction. "you've a deal to learn, sir," he said; "why, you don't even know how to brush one! give me the brush!" i gave snipson the brush, upon which he said, "turn round!" i turned round, thinking he was going to brush my back, and perhaps give me a hint as to using the brush. suddenly, however, he rubbed the brush over my mouth and nose, whilst he seized me by the back of the neck, so as to hold me firmly and prevent my escape. the pain of this proceeding was so great that i called "oh, don't!" which brought forth a shout of laughter from snipson. holms, however, who was brushing his hair, here interfered and said, "snipson, i'll lick you if you don't let my neux alone!" "he's mine as much as yours!" replied snipson. "i'm head of the room, and i won't have this bullying," replied holms; "so look out!" a bugle now sounded, which caused both holms and snipson to hurry on their belts and prepare for parade, for this bugle was "the warning" that was sounded five minutes before parade. on the second bugle sounding the cadets rushed out of the "division," as it was termed, in which we were quartered, and fell in in two ranks, in front of the building, whilst i was told to "fall in" in rear, as i was in plain clothes. when the names of the cadets had been called by holms, who was corporal on duty, we were marched to the middle of the parade, where soon after three other divisions were marched, and we there waited till an officer came on parade. whilst we were waiting i could not avoid noticing that i was an object of general attention. i was the only cadet in plain clothes, for the boys who had passed with me were already in uniform, and were also well on with their drill. that i had not joined with the others i soon learnt was a most unfortunate circumstance; amidst the crowd i should then have shared with others the unpleasant notice that a neux usually attracted, but now i was one only, and distinctly marked in consequence of not being in uniform. after being inspected by an officer, parties of cadets were sent to various drills under soldiers who were corporals or sergeants. i had the special attention of a bombardier devoted to me, who commenced by instructing me in the mysteries of "stand at ease!" and "attention!" these commands the man shouted at me as though i were deaf, or were half a mile from him; and the commands were pronounced as "stand at-hease!"--"'shon!" an hour of this drill convinced me that it was not such an easy thing to stand at ease as people imagined, and that a man taken from the plough had a very difficult task before him to learn his drill. upon being dismissed from my drill, i was going to walk about the parade a little, but i soon heard my name shouted by snipson from the room i was appointed to. upon entering the room snipson said, "you're a cool kind of a fellow, swaggering about on parade! you just come here instantly after you're dismissed your drill, every day! now get my basin filled with water?" "where is your basin?" i inquired. "where is my basin? why, go and find it, and look sharp, or i will give you a licking?" i glanced all round the room, but saw no sign of a basin, so concluded it must be outside. i opened the door, and saw opposite to me four large tin basins. rejoicing in my luck in finding the basins, i stooped down and selected one, which i was about to take into my room, when i heard a shout close beside me, and saw timpson in a great rage glaring at me. "you're the coolest young ruffian i ever saw!" said timpson. "what do you mean by taking my basin?" no sooner had he uttered these words than he lifted his leg and gave me a kick, in much the same manner as though i had been a football. "drop that basin?" shouted timpson; "and if i ever catch you touching it again i'll half kill you!" "what! in trouble again?" said snipson, who had now come to the door. "serve you right! what a donkey you are! don't you see our basins are round here?" i now saw that there were three basins on the left-hand side of the door of our room, which i had overlooked when i first went out. i lifted one of these, and, taking it into the room, placed it on the table--the only place that it seemed possible to wash on. "fat the basin in the proper place!" said snipson. "you're the greatest idiot i ever saw." i looked round, and, seeing only a stool, was about to put the basin there, but was warned i was wrong by the whiz of a clothes-brush close beside my head. "you don't mean to tell me you can't see where the basin is to go?" said snipson. "don't try to make yourself out a fool, for that won't do." i now saw under the window a hanging-shelf, which i raised and propped up with two iron legs. on this i placed the basin, and then went outside for a can of water i had seen beside our door. "that's not my basin!" said snipson, on my entering. "you don't think i'm such a dirty brute as to wash in another man's basin? that's holms'--bring mine!" "how am i to know your basin?" i inquired. "why, find out, to be sure!" i was at a loss to find out, but, thinking it better to bring both in, i did so, and placed them on the shelf. "that's mine!" said snipson, pointing to one of the basins; "now mind you never make a mistake again!" i looked carefully at the basin, but could see no difference between this and either of the others, and i concluded that snipson was joking, as they all appeared similar. holms now came in, and, thinking i would at once make myself useful, i placed a basin for him near snipson's. "that's not my basin?" said holms. "give me the other!" i was now certain there must be some distinguishing mark, but i could see none, and was much puzzled how i should again distinguish one from the other. a bugle again sounded, and i ascertained this was the warning-bugle for dinner-parade. our division fell in in front of the building as before, the names of the cadets were called, and we were then marched into the inner square, where an officer came, and, having heard the cadets were all present, gave the word, "right face! quick march!" i was in the rear of the division, and dressed in plain clothes; my hat was what modern slang would term "a top hat," and what in those days we called "a beaver." this beaver i was rather proud of; it was only the second one i had possessed, a cap having previously done duty for the covering of my head. as i approached the dining-hall, a cadet who was a neux in my division whispered to me, "look out for your hat!" thinking that this meant that my hat might be spoilt if i let it rest on the floor instead of hanging it up, i said, "all right!" and marched on in the crowd of cadets, who now broke their ranks as they entered the portico leading to the hall. suddenly, and without any warning, a heavy blow was given on the top of my hat, which sent it down over my ears and eyes, and at once prevented me from seeing anything. as i raised my hands to force the hat up, half-a-dozen more blows were showered on my head with no light hand. i succeeded in pushing off my hat, the crown of which was knocked in, but could not see who had struck me--all the cadets looking much amused, but no one appearing to have been the guilty party. every cadet at once sat down at a table, there being about twenty tables in the hall; but, being uncertain where i ought to go, i stood in the middle of the hall, a mark for compressed balls of bread, a shower of which quickly rained around and on me. the officer on duty, who had been detained outside to speak to a cadet, now came into the hall, and each cadet stood as rigid as a statue till the officer, calling to the senior cadet, said, "say grace?" the senior cadet in a loud voice shouted, "for what we're going to receive may we all be thankful!" and the cadets then sat down. i had remained standing all this time, and the officer, now remembering me, came up and said, "you take a seat at this squad." i sat down at the squad where there were four cadets on each side, and one old cadet at the head of the table; they were all strangers to me, and i looked all round the hall to find fraser or the others of mr hostler's who had come up for examination, but i could see none of them. "now then, sir," said the head of the dinner-squad, "how much longer are you going to stare about before you peel the potatoes?" i was surprised at this request, but the cadet opposite me pushed a plate of potatoes towards me that had been boiled with their jackets on, and signed to me that i was to peel these for the head of the squad. i commenced the operation, but was very clumsy at it, never having attempted such a performance before. i finished, however, after a fashion, and passed the plate up the table, and received in exchange a plate of meat which the cadet at the head of the table had cut for me. "snooker! beer!" said the cadet. i saw a large jug of beer and a small mug near it, so i tilted up the jug and poured out a mugful of beer and passed this up the table. when the cadet saw this he said, "what do you mean, sir, by pouring out my beer like that! put it back and froth it! by jove! if ever you pour out beer like that again i'll have you over to my room and give you an angle of forty-five!" i poured back the beer into the jug, and again filled the mug, this time taking care to froth it. the meat that we had for our dinner was hard and tasteless, and was of a most inferior description. our meal consisted only of meat, potatoes, bread, and the thinnest of beer, termed "swipes." in those days the food of the cadets was scarcely fit to eat, the tea and coffee were most inferior, and the ration of bread and butter allowed us scarcely sufficient for half the number. that an alteration in this particular was much needed was not long after discovered, but, at the time of which we write, the cadets could scarcely have lived had it not been for the additional food they obtained from pastrycooks in the neighbourhood, or that was smuggled into barracks at various times. after our dinner a quarter of an hour elapsed before we "fell in" for academy. luckily i found jenkins, a boy from hostler's, who had gone to the academy a half-year before, who told me that i joined the last squad or division which was now termed "a class," otherwise i should have made a mistake. the class i joined was called the fourth class, and on a cadet, who was a corporal, reporting "all present," we were marched into the class-room where we were to study. on looking round at my companions i now found that i recognised several cadets as the candidates who came up for examination with me, and one or two nodded to me, but as we were ordered by the corporal who was in charge of the room to take our seats, i had no opportunity of talking to them. i looked round the room to find some of my companions at hostler's; i thought it would be great fun to see their surprise at my having passed. i expected to see fraser high up in the class, and also fuller and hunt, and one or two others who at hostler's were in the first class, and were always held up to me as examples of learning. low down in the class i saw a cadet who had been at hostler's; he was called smart, and was considered rather a dull boy; but, seeing none of the others, i concluded they must be in some other room. as i was re-examining my companions, the cadet in charge called out, "shepard, look to your front! if i see you locking round again i'll put you in arrest?" i now sat looking straight before me, until called by the mathematical master to the octagon, where i was given some work to do, and again took my place at my desk. on coming out of academy i met smart, who hook hands with me and congratulated me on passing. "it's quite wonderful," he said; "and hostler, i hear, is tearing his hair with rage at it, for he laughed at the idea of your having a chance." "where is fraser," i inquired, "and fuller, and all those fellows that came up?" "they are all spun, and i'm the only one from hostler's who has passed this time. fraser now is too old, even if he could get another trial, which he can't. i often thought i could beat fraser and hunt at exams, for they used to cram fearfully--but how you must have worked!" "well, i didn't seem to work so much," i replied, "though i got on very fast. it was mr rouse's style of teaching that was so good." "hostler says you are certain to be spun at your probationary, as you must have been crammed just for this examination." "what is a probationary?" "it's the exam, you have to pass at the end of a year. if you don't pass that satisfactorily, you are sent away from here." i then inquired of smart whether, on his joining, he had met with the same rough treatment that i had, and he informed me he had experienced much the same. the head of his room was a very good fellow, and not at all a bully; but that two cadets who had been smashed from corporals were in his division, and were "awful bullies." he also informed me that timpson and snipson had the reputation of being the greatest bullies in the academy. smart had to leave me, as he had to go down town for the head of his room, and, on leaving, recommended me to get my uniform as soon as i could, for as long as i was in plain clothes i was a mark to be bullied. nothing remarkable happened during the remainder of the day. at half-past nine an officer came round the rooms, and received from the senior cadet a report to the effect that all were present, that no lights were concealed in the room, and that he had no intention of procuring a light. the fire was then raked out and the candles carried off by a servant who accompanied the officer, and we were left to get into bed in the dark. i now missed the luxury i had enjoyed at rouse's, viz, of a room to myself, for my two companions were talking so that i could not go to sleep; and tired as i was, and bruised with the blows i had received, i longed to get to sleep. as i lay thinking over all the strange events of the day, and what a world of itself the academy was, snipson shouted out, "shepard! call me at five to-morrow morning--not a minute later, mind, or i'll break your head for you!" i was wondering how i was possibly to wake at five, when i heard a knock at the door, and on holms calling, "come in!" a cadet said, "the fourth of the room is to go to no. 16." i did not at first realise that this had anything to do with me, till snipson shouted, "shepard, you'd better look sharp, or foxey will half kill you?" "what am i to do?" i inquired. "do, you donkey? why, dress--and sharp too--and go to no. 16! foxey will soon show you what to do!" i got up and groped for my clothes, and dressed as well as i could in the dark. i then inquired of snipson which was no. 16. "why, you've been here all day, and do you mean to say you don't know which 16 is yet? you must go and find out; and i'd advise you to be sharp, for foxey isn't to be trifled with!" i went out of the room, and tried to remember whether i had noticed 16 on any particular door. i could not recall that i had done so, and, hearing some talking at the end of the passage, i went to a door and knocked. i was told to "come in!" and, on entering, was asked who i was. i replied, "shepard; and i was told to come to foxey in no. 16." there was a shout of laughter from two cadets in the room as i said this, whilst the cadet i first spoke to said,-"come here, sir! who told you to come to foxey?" "snipson, the second in my room." "take that for your impertinence, now; and, when you go back, tell snipson i will kick him to-morrow!" the article which i was to take was a boot that was hurled at me by this cadet, whose nickname i afterwards ascertained was foxey--a title that gave him great offence. after having served as a target for a pair of boots, which i had after each shot to bring back to the cadet, i was asked if i could sing. now it happened that one of our men-servants had been a sailor, and had learnt some of the popular sea-songs of the times. these i had heard him sing when i was quite a boy, and soon learnt the words, and also to sing them. among these were "the bay of biscay," "tom bowline," "the admiral," "the arethusa," "'twas in trafalgar's bay," etc. in answer to the inquiry whether i could sing, i replied that i thought i knew a song. "then we'll have it presently," said the cadet. "now, snooker of no. 10!" he continued, "have you made out that ode to the moon yet? i'll give you another licking if you tell me again you can't!" i now found there were several other cadets in the room, all last-joined, like myself; and, from the remarks made, i found that they had some task set them. the cadet addressed replied in a half-blubbering manner, "i'll try to say something now." "get onto the table, then," said the cadet, "so that i may have a fair shot at you if you break down! and now go on, sir! you can't sing, so you must make an ode to the moon! now then, sir, commence!" the cadet, who had now mounted on the table, had evidently had a rough time of it. he was a little fellow, whom i had seen belonged to our division, and who was very fat, and looked very stupid. as he stood on the table he was crying, either from fear or from the punishment he had received, or from both combined. "now, sir, will you commence?" said the cadet who was the head of the room. in a tremulous voice that made the words uttered sound more ridiculous than they otherwise would, the cadet on the table said, "o moon, how splendid you are! how beautiful you look! and you light up the night! you are full sometimes, and then you shine bright!" "any fool knows that," interrupted the head of the room, whom i had called foxey. "don't tell us what we know; tell us something original!" "o moon?" continued the cadet in the same tremulous voice; "with a face in you, you are not made of green cheese! and you shine by night, and are not seen by day!" "that's a lie!" said foxey. "the moon can be seen by day, and you are trying to deceive us poor mortals! i'm not going to remain quiet, and hear the moon slandered in that way! you must have a boot at your head for that!" a boot was here hurled at the cadet by foxey, which seemed by the sound to have struck the mark, and also, from certain sniffling sounds, to have added to the grief of the orator. "go on!" said foxey. "o moon!--" "if you commence `o moon!' again, i'll hurl another boot at you!" said foxey. "lovely moon!" continued the cadet. "lovely moon!--i don't know what more to say, please." "you're an idiot!" said foxey; "and if you don't write out an ode for to-morrow night, i'll give you another licking! now where's the last-joined neux, shepard? now then, up on the table and sing a song!" i climbed onto the table, and hesitated a moment as to which song i should sing. "look sharp, sir," said foxey, "or you'll have a boot at you! i'm going to teach you manners." at this warning i at once commenced the "bay of biscay," and sang it through without a mistake. "very well sung," said foxey; "now give us another!" i now sang the "arethusa," when foxey exclaimed, "that's a stunning song! you must write me out the words of that by to-morrow night. now, as you've sung so well, you may go, but mind, i must have some more songs from you." i thanked foxey for letting me go, and crept into my room, and went to bed as quietly as i could. before going to sleep i thought over the events of the day; it seemed to me an age since the morning, and not a few hours only. i had passed through so many different scenes, and had experienced so much anxiety, that each event seemed to have occurred a very long time after its predecessor. the thought uppermost in my mind was, how little the general world knew what a neux had to go through on joining the academy, and how trying an ordeal it was for a sensitive and delicate boy. i remembered my father saying to me on one occasion, that on joining the academy i should be fag to an old cadet, and should have to run messages for him, and fag at cricket, but that i was not to mind this, as it was almost a recognised system at all the large public schools, and was supposed to teach a boy the respect due to his seniors. i little imagined at the time, and my father would not have believed, the extent to which fagging had degenerated into bullying, in consequence of its being left in the hands of those totally unfitted to exercise it. that some boys are benefited by being brought under a rigid discipline, and "kept down," as we may term it, by a system of fagging, and thus brought to respect their seniors in a school, there is no doubt; for an "unlicked cub" is undoubtedly a most obnoxious youth, and grows into a disagreeable man. but where fagging is now only winked at by the authorities, it ought to be recognised, and to a great extent be under their surveillance. if such power is left entirely to boys or youths from fifteen to eighteen, it not unusually becomes a system of tyranny, that damages alike the exerciser of the power and the victim of it. at the time of which we write, bullying was at its height at the woolwich academy. it was winked at by the authorities, for it was known to exist, and no endeavour was made to put it down. if, however, a case of bullying came so prominently before the officers that they could not avoid taking notice of it, then a rigid inquiry was made, and the cadet found guilty of the offence was severely punished. these examples, however, had little or no effect in checking those who delighted in exercising the power they possessed, and so for several years the same system prevailed, until an entire reorganisation of the establishment occurred. on awaking, on the following morning, there was a feeling of anxiety came over me that something was wrong. i did not at first realise where i was, but soon the events of the preceding day were recalled, and i anticipated with dread what might happen to me on this day. any feeling of pride or satisfaction at having passed my examination so well had been entirely knocked out of me, and occasionally i believe i regretted that i had passed, for i knew that there were many months of fagging before me, and if each day was like the last, i doubted whether i could endure it. the rule established by the old cadets at that time was that a cadet remained a neux or fag for three half years, and on the fourth became an old cadet, when he could exercise the power of fagging others. it was considered that a third-half cadet should not be fagged except under exceptional circumstances, such as being very unpopular or there being no first or second-half cadet available. those who had the hardest time of it were of coarse the last-joined, but second-half cadets were often as much bullied as the last-joined. to give an idea of the bad spirit that sometimes was shown by certain individuals at that time, the following fact may be related:--a cadet, whose father was a distinguished officer, but who was considered a tartar in discipline, was fagged to the end of his third half, because the elder brothers of some of the old cadets had suffered at the hands of the disciplinarian. another similar case was where a young cadet had had a brother at the academy, who, as an old cadet, had fagged an individual who now happened to be an old cadet, and who used to boast that he had paid back on the younger brother the thrashings he had received from the elder, with one hundred per cent, interest. my meditations were interrupted by the sound of a bugle which sounded in front of the academy, and at the same time snipson called out, "hullo! what's that? why, that's _reveille_! shepard?" he shouted, "i'll lick you to within an inch of your life! didn't i order you to call me at five o'clock? and now it's half-past six! now come here!" i got up and was going to put on some clothes, but snipson made me come to him as i was, when, taking down a racket that was on the wall, he belaboured me with this till i howled. holms here interfered, and threatened snipson with a thrashing if he did not desist--a threat that seemed to produce its effect on snipson, who, warning me never to forget to call him again, told me to get up and dress so as to be ready to hand him the various things he required whilst performing his toilet. i now began my regular duties as fag, and as these, with but slight variations, continued during nearly a year, i can here describe them. about twice a week i had to call snipson at five o'clock in the morning and light a candle for him, in order that he might work, for he was very much behind in his mathematics and feared he would not qualify for a commission, so he was now working hard to make up leeway. very often i had to stand beside snipson's bed for an hour to hold the ink and a candle, because he could see better than if the candle rested on the bed, and could get at his ink more easily. snipson, i found, had been longer at the academy than holms, and had been reduced from the rank of corporal on account of keeping up lights in his room after hours. this, it was said, had made him very savage, and caused him to be one of the greatest bullies at the "shop," as the academy was termed. half an hour before snipson got up i had to be washed and dressed, in order to hand snipson his sponge, towel, soap, tooth-brush, etc, and to have his coat brushed and held ready to be put on. i then had to inspect him to see if there was a speck of dust on him, and to brush this off if there was. holms exacted very little fagging from me; he merely required to be brushed and his things kept tidy in his cupboard, so i was mainly occupied with snipson. one of my most difficult duties was at breakfast parade. for our breakfast we were allowed only bread and butter to eat, and snipson had a great fancy for jam, hot rolls, and marmalade. it was strictly against orders to take any such things into the dining-hall, and as we were all assembled on parade and inspected by an officer previous to going into breakfast, it required considerable dexterity to convey a pot of jam or a roll into the hall without being discovered. the method in which this was managed was the following-i, being a small boy, was in the rear rank whilst snipson was in the front rank. i carried the pot of jam in my tail-pocket until the officer on duty had inspected the front rank and the faces of the rear rank. just as he reached the end of the line and before he inspected the rear of the rear rank, snipson used to turn round whilst i, extracting the pot of jam from my tail-pocket, tossed it over to him; he caught it and put it in his tail-pocket. we became quite dexterous at this performance, and accomplished it like a sleight-of-hand trick, till one morning snipson missed catching it, and the pot fell on parade, broke, and the jam was discovered by the officer on duty. "fall out, the gentleman who brought that jam on parade!" said the officer. -----------------------------------------------------------------------i hesitated a minute, and then fell out and said i had done so. "then you will be in arrest, sir, till further orders!" said the officer. -----------------------------------------------------------------------i was rather alarmed at this, for i fancied i might receive some severe punishment for this breach of regulation. snipson was very angry with me, and accused me of carelessness in pitching the jam to him, so on returning to my room he told me he would give me an angle of forty-five as a punishment. as this angle of forty-five was a very popular punishment in those days, we venture to describe it with some detail. the cadet to be thus treated stood to attention against the cupboards, his arms rigid to his side, and he rigid from head to foot. he then rested the back of his head against the cupboard and gradually moved his feet out till he rested at an angle of nearly forty-five degrees with the cupboards. the old cadet with a kick then kicked the neux's feet outwards, and the victim came down heavily on his back. cadets upon whom this was practised were not uncommonly so much hurt that they had to go to hospital for several days. at every parade--and there were about six per day--snipson and holms had to be brushed, and i was responsible if they were in the least dirty. if the servant (for there was one servant to sixteen cadets) did not put the washing-basins down soon enough, i had at once to do his work for him. at the dinner i had occasionally to secure two large potatoes, and carry these out without being seen by the officer on duty or the head of the squad. these potatoes i had to conceal in my room, and then, when evening came, to bake them under the grate for snipson. if i forgot salt i was sent down to the far end of woolwich to buy a small quantity, and the time allowed me for the journey was so limited that i soon became a good runner. of an evening there were two candles in our room, and when snipson worked he would not allow me to be in the room, as he said seeing me interrupted him, so i had either to wander about outside on parade or go to the library, where i was almost certain to be called upon by some old cadet to run messages for him, or to go to his room and do something, as it was concluded i was idle, or would not be in the library. about four nights a week i used to be sent for to some of the eight rooms in the division to sing songs. other neuxes were usually there also, and were also called on to sing, make speeches or odes, or tell stories, and if they did not acquit themselves to the satisfaction of the old cadets, they became the targets for boots, brushes, and other missiles. this may be called the regular routine through which a fag had to pass on first joining and for a year after his being at the academy. to work out of academy hours at any study was impossible; and, in fact, it was considered "cool" for a neux to work in his room, so that there was an advantage in taking into the academy a more extended stock of knowledge than was sufficient for passing only. one of the great days of dread to the neux was saturday afternoon. it was usual then to grant leave, from saturday at three to sunday night, to all cadets who could produce invitations; and as all who could do so went away during that time, those who remained were in great request. there were two reasons why a neux could not always get away: one was, that he might not have a written invitation; the other was, that he had been turned out to drill twice during the week, either by a cadet having the rank of corporal, or by the officer on duty, for unsteadiness on parade, or want of attention to drill. the fagging required on saturday afternoons was somewhat varied. those old cadets who were not on leave usually made up a party in one of the rooms, and required something to eat and drink. to accomplish this it was necessary to use great caution, for such feasts were against orders, and to bring wine or spirits into the enclosure entailed, if discovered, the gravest punishment. the most successful manner in which the matter was accomplished was the following:-two or three fags were sent out of an afternoon with cloaks on; one of these returned with the others and carried two bottles concealed under his cloak. sometimes as many as six or seven cadets would be sent out, and if any of these were met by an officer and examined, the chances were against the one who had the wine being caught among so many. snipson sent me on these smuggling expeditions very frequently, and threatened me with the most dire punishment if i ever divulged that he had sent me. he assured me that it would only be by stupidity or carelessness that i should be discovered, and so i must take the blame myself. i had been very successful in avoiding detection until the fifth time; then, however, as i was coming round by the lodge with a bottle of sherry in each hand, and my cloak on, i ran almost against the officer on duty. i tried to slip one bottle under my arm and salute with the other hand, but i did this so awkwardly that he told me to take off my cloak. i did so, and of course was placed in arrest and the bottles taken from me. an inquiry into the matter led to my receiving seven days' arrest and a month's stoppage of leave, with a threat that if i were again found guilty of a similar offence i should be rusticated. from snipson i received nothing but blame; he declared that it was my own fault that i had been found out, and might consider myself lucky in not getting a thrashing from him for having lost the wine for which he had paid. some days after this event snipson received what was called an "inattentive return" in some of his studies; the result was, that he had also seven days' arrest, with its attendant drill. this seemed to utterly sour his temper, for he became a greater bully than ever, and invented an amusement from which i was a sufferer. being unable, in consequence of his arrest, to leave his room, except for meals, drill, and study in the regular academy hours, snipson used to send for three last-joined cadets, making, with myself, four. he would then ask timpson in from the opposite room and commence his amusement, which was carried on as follows:-taking a seat about five feet from the angles of the table, he used to provide himself with a towel, which he twisted up and tied at the end; this end he wetted, so as to make it an excellent weapon for flipping. the four last-joined cadets were then started to run round the table-two in one direction, two in the opposite. when the cadets had to pass one another there was a struggle between them as to which should be the insider. the outsider of course got all the flips with the towel, so there was a reason for the straggle for inside place. snipson described this amusement as such capital fun that several cadets used to come in to see it; but holms, who was never present, came in one day and stopped it, saying it was bullying for no reason, and he would not allow it; and i was consequently saved from this in holms' room; but when snipson's arrest was over he used to take me to other rooms and there practise the same amusement. when one looks back through the long vista of years to those distant days when one was a cadet, and remembers one's career there as a whole, the reminiscences that come most prominently forward are the agreeable. it seems that by some arrangement of nature the pleasant and agreeable events of the past remain longer in our memory than do those that are disagreeable. we can recall the many agreeable hours we passed with this or that cadet, many of whom have long since fallen, fighting gallantly before the enemy, or have sunk from disease in foreign climates, where their duty called them to serve. some few still remain, most of whom have made their mark in the world, and whose names are now known, not in the corps alone in which they serve, but to the world at large, who note and remember the names of those who have distinguished themselves in various ways. we can recall, too, how there was a majority at the academy who had a high sense of honour and of military discipline, and who would willingly have put down bullying had they not somewhat weakly felt that by doing so they were putting themselves forward as "reformers,"--a prominence to which they objected. though there was an evil crying out for remedy, yet there were good points even then at the academy, that rendered it a useful school for the soldier. he there learnt to rough it, and to bear hardship, and too often injustice, without complaint. he learnt too the importance of keeping his word and acting up to a promise--matters not unusually neglected in the wide world. we believe that there is not a case on record of a cadet having broken his word of honour, or of having broken his arrest, which he was bound to keep on honour; and at the time we write of, although if a cadet were tipsy (a rare occurrence) all other cadets would try to screen him, yet, if a cadet had been known to break his arrest or his word, every other cadet would have instantly reported him, and used his utmost endeavours to obtain the most severe punishment for the offence. there seems in this condition a vast amount of inconsistency, but inconsistency is the general characteristic of humanity, and is one of its weakest points. we usually find the best men occasionally do the worst things, the wisest men commit the most foolish acts, and the most pious act like the most wicked; misers squander their money on worthless objects, and the cautious become reckless. there was great knowledge of character in the relater of the anecdote of the roman catholic who was in prison for murdering his father, but who was indignant at the idea of his being considered such a sinner as to eat meat on "a fast day." every day we see examples of the grocer who, having ascertained from his assistant that he had mixed the sand with the sugar, and the saw-dust with the coffee, directed him to come in to prayers, and to mind he was attentive. in former times it was not considered at all a dishonourable act to take a knife belonging to another cadet and to appropriate this to oneself; such an act was termed "smoutching," and was looked upon as rather a smart thing. if, however, one cadet took from another cadet a sixpence, or oven a penny, just as he had taken the knife, he would have instantly been reported to the authorities as a thief. to kick, thrash, or fag in any way a neux was considered by old cadets only fair and according to rule; but the instant any neux was on leave, from that instant he was free from fagging, and any old cadet who was known to have fagged a neux who was on leave, even to the extent of requesting to be brushed, would have been tried by his peers. it was ten days after joining the academy that i first obtained my uniform, and i can recall even now the secret pride with which i first put it on. i felt now that i really had commenced the career of a soldier, and that i had gained an enviable position by passing my examination. there seemed to come upon me a feeling of responsibility as the coat came on me, and i made up my mind not to disgrace my cloth. a boy at sixteen may well be pardoned for feeling that enthusiasm which hardship and neglect sometimes cause to be extinguished in the breast of a veteran. having, as i may term it, shaken down in my uniform, i asked smart one day if he would come down with me to hostler's. the reason proposed for this trip was to see one or two of our schoolfellows; but in my heart the reason was to show myself off in uniform before those boys who had looked down upon me when i was at hostler's cram-school; and i also suspect that the same reasons induced smart to accompany me. "we shall just find the boys going out," said smart, "and it will be great fun to see what they will say to you. what a sell it will be for tomkins and hurst--your passing--for i hear, now so many have failed, hostler won't let them come up for a year, so you will be an old cadet when they are second-half fellows, and will be able to fag them. walkwell declares it was your drawing that got you into the academy, and takes great credit to himself for having taught you." we arrived at mr hostler's and entered the well-remembered playground, where we found the boys assembling previous to an afternoon walk. we were both welcomed with enthusiasm, whilst we were stared at as objects of wonder and admiration. in those days the difference between a cadet and a schoolboy was very great, and the cadet was looked up to as so far above the schoolboy, that the latter scarcely liked to speak to the former, for fear of meeting a rebuff. cadets, too, very often cut their old schoolfellows, as they could not speak to anything so low. our condescension in coming down to hostler's was therefore fully appreciated, whilst the reception i met from many of my old companions, caused me to believe i had been most prejudiced as regards them. there was smith, who used to make faces at me, and who used to call me a "hampshire hog" and "tomfool" when i was at hostler's, now came with a deprecating smile on his face and shook hands with me, whilst he intimated he was awfully jolly that i had passed. there was bones, as we used to call him, fraser's great chum, who hated me after my victory over fraser, and who used to spread false reports in the school to my detriment, now came up with "hullo, shepard, old fellow! you are a swell now! i'm so glad you're a cadet?" as i stood surrounded by an admiring group of boys i heard the well-known voice of hostler, and somehow the old influence came over me, and for an instant i had the fear of three cuts on the hand. hostler had seen us in the school-yard, and came down to speak to us, but i must confess the style of his address entirely took me aback. hostler was too clever for me. "ah, shepard," he said, shaking hands, "glad to see you! well, so my good groundwork of mathematics and euclid passed you. i thought it would. and i told mr rouse you only wanted a final polish, which i hadn't time to give you here with so many boys on hand, to give you a fair chance. then, you see, the fact of your having been here was known at the academy, and no doubt that helped you on. i feel much flattered at your having passed, for it shows my system is a sound one." i was utterly taken aback at this speech of hostler's after what had happened; i almost expected he would have apologised to me for his behaviour. i forgot he did not know i had overheard his conversation with reference to my not being sent up, and i could almost swear that no communication whatever had taken place between him and mr rouse. thinking i would make an awkward remark for him i said, "i'm sorry fraser and the others didn't pass." "i never thought they would, shepard," replied hostler, who never moved a muscle of his face as he uttered this lie. "fraser was idle and careless, and his friends would have him pushed on too rapidly, and so he wasn't sound. i protested against this, but it was no use, so i foolishly gave way." now it happened that fraser had been four years at mr hostler's, and had been over and over again the coarse that he had to be examined in; and when i was at hostler's he was held up to me as one of the most promising boys, who was to bring honour to the establishment at which he had been prepared, and who was considered very likely to pass at the head of his batch. "you must mind and work hard for your probationary," said hostler. "you'll find you've plenty to do; and it's no child's play, i can tell you." i thanked, him for his advice, and remarked that, having passed my first examination, i hoped i should not break down at the next. i only once again entered mr hostler's establishment from that day, but the remembrance of the misery i endured there, of the false system of teaching (or rather cramming, for he did not teach) he adopted in his school, of the whalebone and cane arguments he used to convince boys of the advantages of learning their euclid, is still fresh in my memory; and even now the worst nightmare i can suffer from, is that i am again a boy at hostler's, and have failed in my euclid. one of the greatest defects at the academy in former times was the impossibility of ever being alone. we were usually four in each barrack-room; we were marched about by squads, divisions, or classes; we dined, breakfasted, and had tea at squads; we were in classes from thirty to forty for study. at night we could never be alone; the snoring or turning of another cadet in the room disturbed one. now there are some natures so affected by external influences that they are never thoroughly themselves unless they are entirely alone. such individuals are never known in their real characters, for before others they are unconsciously actors. men who appear idlers before the world, mere loungers on society, are not unusually when alone the deepest thinkers or the hardest workers; and to such, solitude is an essential. to many, therefore, especially to those who wished to work hard, it was a great drawback being penned up night and day with companions whose tastes not unfrequently were anything but congenial. in spite of the hard life i led at the academy, and the amount of fagging and bullying i had to go through, the time passed quickly; there was a novelty in everything, which was very attractive. as i advanced in my drill, and joined the squad of other "last-joined," there was a secret pleasure in feeling i was a soldier, that a splendid career was open before me if i could only manage to pass my examinations, and that when i became an officer my career might be most favourable. i made but little progress, however, in my studies; the hard work i had gone through in order to pass, and the varied scenes and events i was daily passing through, gave me a kind of mental indigestion, and i found it very hard work to learn. although i had passed into the academy, i could not get over the idea that it was to a certain extent a bit of good luck that i had done so, and i believed i was somehow less gifted with a capacity for learning mathematics than were other boys, and i began to have doubts and fears whether i should pass my probationary examination, especially considering the impossibility there was in working out of academy hours. i had, after the first two months, got accustomed, to a great extent, to the fagging and bullying. snipson still continued my greatest tormentor, and had it not have been for him i should not have led so hard a life as i did, for holms was often very kind, and gave me hints as to what i ought to do under various circumstances. he used also to stop snipson from bullying me whenever he found him doing so. i consequently looked on holms as a great friend, and should probably have passed my half-year tolerably had not a circumstance happened which considerably affected my comfort and deprived me of the society and protection of holms. it happened that snipson had great difficulty in getting out of the second academy, as he was very bad in mathematics. in order, therefore, that he might work of a night, he asked holms if he would allow him to keep up lights. i was not aware at the time i heard this request made by snipson, and agreed to by holms, of the risk the latter ran of severe punishment in case of detection; but as it was agreed to, that lights were to be kept up, i was called upon to assist at the preparatory arrangements. between the outside window and the room in which i lived there were iron bars arranged in diamond-shape; between these and the window there was a space of a few inches; between these bars a regimental cloak was carefully drawn and so spread out that from the inside of the room no ray of light could be seen coming through any little chink left by the cloak not being properly arranged. to fill up this space in a satisfactory manner four cloaks were required, which, having been placed between the window and the bars, a careful inspection was made, and matters being considered satisfactory, candles were lighted, the door locked, and snipson commenced his studies. holms had gone to bed soon after the cloaks were arranged, but snipson made me sit up, as he said he should require me to help take down the cloaks when he was tired of working; so i sat up and tried to read, but my eyes gradually closed, and more than once i fell asleep. snipson, however, took care to wake me by tapping me on the head with a book, and thus we passed the time till about twelve o'clock. it happened that, on the particular night in question, the officer on duty had been dining at mess, and, on returning to his quarters in the academy, saw a slight speck of light coming from the window of our room, where a flaw had occurred by one of the cloaks slightly slipping. on coming close to the window he found that lights were being kept up, and that he had discovered the delinquents. from the officers' quarters to those of the cadets there was a passage which might be passed through of a night. by this passage the officer entered the division, and came to our door, which he tried, and found fastened. the instant we heard a step approaching our room, snipson put out the lights, and commenced dragging down the cloaks. the officer, rapping loudly at the door, and requesting to be admitted, snipson was wonderfully quick in getting down the cloaks, and then, dressed as he was, jumped into bed, telling me to open the door. holms had slept soundly during the greater part of this disturbance, and only woke as the knocking became more furious. upon my opening the door, the officer on duty entered with a dark lantern in his hand, and, looking round the room, said, "mr holms, you have been keeping up lights!" "i am only just awake, sir," said holms. "don't prevaricate, sir!" said the officer. "look here; here's some tallow on the cloth still warm! you'll be in arrest till further orders, mr holms!" as the officer was leaving, i felt inclined to say it was not holms but snipson who had kept up the lights, but luckily i said nothing, for no matter who had kept them up, holms, as head of the room, was responsible, and must bear the blame. as soon as the officer left the room, snipson said, "i'm awfully sorry, holms, but it's all the fault of that confounded young donkey, shepard, who could not have put the cloaks up properly. "you'll get a licking for this to-morrow, shepard, depend on it," said snipson. "i'm safe to be smashed," said holms, "for i was suspected last half of keeping up lights, though they couldn't prove it; and it's a nuisance, as this is my last half-year." after a few minutes' conversation, both holms and snipson agreed it couldn't be helped, and we all went to sleep. at the mid-day parade on the following day an order was read out to the effect that mr holms, having been found keeping up lights contrary to orders, was reduced from the rank of corporal, and was removed to another room, whilst gentleman cadet brag was promoted to corporal and was placed in charge of my room. brag was quite a different character from holms. he was a very small cadet, not so big as i was, though nearly two years my senior; he was not clever, at least at examinations, and was very low down in his batch, below even snipson. he had a white, leathery face, with a most disagreeable expression, nearly white hair, a bad figure, and awkward legs and feet. brag was generally unpopular, and was dreaded by the last-joined cadets, as he delighted in bullying for bullying sake; and as when he was a last-joined he had led a very hard life as a fag, he seemed to think he had a long account to pay back upon those who were now his juniors. brag came the same afternoon to take charge of my room, and i soon saw that he and snipson, being birds of a feather, got on well together; they had one point on which they mutually agreed, viz, that i was the slackest neux they had ever seen, and wanted keeping up to the mark. in order that this, condition of keeping me up to the mark might be obtained, brag ordered me to start at seven o'clock the following morning, and run down to charlton's and see what o'clock it was by his clock. now charlton's happened to be at green's-end, about one mile from the academy. as i had to go this mile and return, then to rewash and get brushed and be on parade at a quarter to eight, it did not give me much time for the performance. i started about seven on a drizzling morning, and got as far as the barracks, when i saw a clock there which showed ten minutes after seven. it suddenly occurred to me that i need not go down to charlton's to find out what o'clock it was, as i could find out by the barrack clock, so, turning back, i came slowly to my room, allowing about as much time as would have elapsed if i had gone all the way to charlton's. "what! back again?" said brag. "well, what's the time?" "nearly a quarter past seven," i said. "was that the time by charlton's clock?" "about that," i replied. "you're telling me a lie," said brag. "you didn't go to charlton's." "i didn't go quite down," i answered, as i now felt what a mistake i had made in not obeying the order literally. "you've disobeyed orders, and you've told a lie," said brag. "now you come here?" i was now placed by brag against the cupboards, and put into the position of an "angle of forty-five," when he kicked my feet from under me, and i fell heavily on my back, striking my head against the cupboards as i came down. "up again!" shouted brag, who seemed to warm to his work. "i'll teach you what you get for telling me a cram, and disobeying orders." six times i was brought heavily to the ground, and on the last was half-stunned by the blow my head received in the fall. during this performance snipson stood opposite, shouting with laughter, and exclaiming, "bravo, brag! that's the way to serve him! give it him again!" at length brag seemed tired, and having informed me that i was to go down every morning for a week to see what the time was, left me to recover myself as best i could. i was so shaken and hurt by my falls, that for some time i could not stand, and sat on my bed trying to recover myself. as i sat there an idea came into my head that such treatment as this, if carried out on all the cadets who were last-joined, would drive them to desperation, and that it might be possible to organise a mutiny against the authority of the old cadets, used as it was in this brutal way. thinking over this idea of a strike, i began to count the numbers and size of the first and second-half cadets, and to estimate the probabilities of success. i soon saw, however, that there would be no chance for the juniors; the power entrusted to the corporals of placing any cadet in arrest on the plea of making a disturbance in academy, or for being dirty on parade, was so great, and might be used so freely, that such power alone would make the seniors all-powerful. after due deliberation i decided it was better to endure the bullying, and endeavour to stand it as quietly as possible. brag was an individual of an inventive turn of mind, and was much pleased with anything original. he was highly amused with the suggestion of snipson about four neuxes running round the table, whilst he and another cadet flipped them; but he was fond of a little gambling, and so invented another amusement, of which i was one victim. in former times the gymnasium and racket-court were on the east side of the building, and were of small dimensions compared to the magnificent building which now serves as a gymnasium at the academy. the posts, ropes, etc, for gymnastic exercises were out of doors, and between two high posts was a stout rope, along which it was considered hard work to pass hand over hand. brag had thought of making this rope of use as a means of producing excitement. his plan was as follows:-a cadet (last-joined) was made to hold onto this rope with his hands, and his back turned to brag and another old cadet. brag, armed with a racket and some old balls, used then to strike a ball at the cadet, and if he hit him he counted one. alternate shots were taken, and sixpence a shot was paid for each hit. brag was a capital shot, and i used to be "corked," as he termed it, by him nearly every shot. the distance from the ground to the rope was about twelve feet, so that when we dropped, as we were compelled to at last, we came down rather heavily. as soon as one neux could hold on no longer, another was substituted in his place, who had to pass through the same ordeal. so contagious is bullying of this description, that in two or three days at least twenty old cadets took part in it, and it is difficult to say to what extent it might have been carried had not the officer on duty, suspecting probably that something irregular was going on, paid a visit to the gymnasium, and, seeing what was done, reported the circumstance, on which a court of inquiry was ordered to assemble, composed of officers connected with the academy, whose duty it was to find out whether any bullying had occurred. the assembly of this court caused quite a sensation in the academy, as all the last-joined cadets were to be examined. the old cadets who had taken part in this affair now entirely altered their behaviour to their fags. brag became quite civil to me, and hoped i wouldn't split on him. he told me that he, when a neux, had to go through far worse things, and that by-and-by i should be an old cadet and should have the privilege of fagging; that of course he didn't mean to hurt me, and hoped he hadn't done so, and finished by asking me not to say anything that would get him into a scrape. snipson was even more anxious to persuade me that it was all a joke, and that it was absurd to make such a fuss about a mere trifle. in his day a neux had, he said, to go through far more, and it did them all good; he himself was a deal better for having the conceit taken out of him. he advised me to be very careful what i said before the court, for if, through anything i said, an old cadet got rusticated or into a scrape, i should lead such a life, he assured me, that i should wish myself a galley-slave instead of a cadet. i had instantly made up my mind that i would say nothing to criminate any one. i hoped that by such a line of conduct i should show both brag and snipson that i could be generous. i hated them both, for i soon discovered they were very bad specimens of the old cadet, and that i was unlucky in having two such in my room. some of the last-joined cadets told me they were not bullied at all, and the head of their room would not allow any other cadet to fag them, and, to prevent them from being fagged, gave them permission to say they were wanted by the head of their room, for "the instant another cadet tries to fag you, then you come to my room." on saturdays and sundays i usually went on leave, my father having written to several london friends telling them of my being a cadet at woolwich. this leave was a great boon; it broke the monotony of the week, freed me from brag and snipson for about thirty hours, and gave me new ideas. at the academy i was but a neux, and led a hard life of it; but when i visited my friends i found that a gentleman cadet was thought a great deal of, and i was considered to be remarkably clever in having passed into the academy--my friends knowing many lads who were supposed clever, but who had failed at their examinations for woolwich. these visits did me much good. i looked forward to them from week to week, and they tended to keep my mental balance straight; for as we when young judge often of ourselves by the estimate others form of us, so i had almost decided that i was most stupid, thoughtless, and careless, in consequence of snipson always impressing upon me that i was so. it not unfrequently happened, however, that i was turned out to extra drill twice during the week for some offences or other, usually for not being properly brushed on parade. it was my business to brush brag and snipson, and then snipson ought to have brushed me. often he avoided this, and said he "hadn't time." my only chance then was to take off my coat and brash it myself. if the time was limited i then could not get my coat on and get on parade quick enough to avoid being considered "slack in turning out;" for if a neux was not on parade by the time the bugle finished sounding, then he was usually turned out to drill to make him smarter. two drills stopped one's leave, and i then had the discomfort of remaining at the academy on saturday and sunday. the season of the year then did not admit of the sunday march past on the barrack-field. the scene i had witnessed when at hostler's, however, was still fresh in my memory, and i looked forward to the time when i should march past as i had seen others do. if brag and snipson were not on leave, i passed a saturday and sunday of utter misery. they used to bully me during the whole time. if they were on leave and i was seen about the academy grounds, i was sure to be seized upon by some old cadet, whose neux was on leave, and who would fag me during the two days. if i remained in my room i was pretty sure to be found, and ordered off to another division, to supply the place of a neux on leave. at length i adopted a plan by which i managed to escape the afternoon fagging on saturday, and then usually managed to get a walk on sunday afternoons. as soon as snipson and brag had gone on leave i used to take off my coat, get a book, and creep behind my bed, which was doubled up so as to give sufficient space for me to sit there. having arranged the curtains so as to show no indication of disturbance, i could enjoy a quiet read without the momentary fear that every footstep i heard would be that of an old cadet running to order me off to his room, or on some message. the very first afternoon i tried this plan i found its value. i was snugly concealed when i heard some old cadet ask one of the corporals of my division if there were any neuxes there not on leave. "shepard is not," said the cadet. "all right?" replied the other. "i want to send him to the `red lion' for some lush. shepard!" he shouted outside my window. i remained perfectly quiet, hoping that my concealment was secure. the cadet then came round to my room, and, opening the door, evidently looked round the room. i was quiet as a mouse, but was in great fear that i might be discovered, and if i had i should have received heavy punishment. "he's not here," said the cadet; "perhaps he's in the back yard." my name was again shouted, but i did not answer; so the old cadet left, and i heard him say on leaving, "i suppose he's fagging over at the `towers.'" by this artifice i managed to escape much of the fagging on saturday afternoons, and had several hours' quiet, during which i could read or think as i liked. unfortunately, however, i in a weak moment confided to another last-joined cadet the plan i practised in order to avoid being fagged on saturdays. i told him of my plan, because he was rarely on leave, and used to lead a very hard life of it on those days. by some means or other he was found out. i believe his boots were seen protruding from the bed, as he was a very long neux, and he received a severe thrashing for not answering when called. this discovery led the old cadets who wanted a fag on saturdays to look behind the beds for concealed last-joined, and i became a victim. it happened thus:-an old cadet, named lakeman, in my division wanted a fag, and having noted that i was not read out as on leave, came to my room about five o'clock on one saturday, and called me. i remained quite quiet, hoping not to be discovered, for i had not then heard of the discovery that had been made of the last-joined behind his bed. suddenly the curtains of my bed were pulled aside, and the foot of the bed let down, when i rolled over on the bed fully exposed to view. "now come to my room," said lakeman, "and get a licking! this is the way you shirk, is it?" i knew it was of no use making any excuses, i was found out; and so i went quietly to lakeman's room, received a thrashing with a racket, and was kept fagging till sunday evening, when brag and snipson returned. lakeman informed them both of his having found me shirking, and i discovered that i had at once established a bad reputation, and was a mark for all old cadets to fire off their anger upon. the time was now coming for the half-yearly examinations, and the first class of cadets were working very hard--a condition which rendered the life of a fag somewhat easier, for the old cadets, instead of amusing themselves by bullying, used out of study to work in their rooms at mathematics and fortification. it was now a matter of frequent occurrence for lights to be kept up in various rooms in order that the cadets who were either trying for engineers, or had doubts about getting into the "batch," might work after hours. there was great risk in this keeping up lights; and brag, who did not want to work, would not let snipson keep up lights in his room. this made snipson very angry, but brag was decided about it, not on principle, but because the situation of his room was such as to make detection easy. at this crisis i obtained for myself considerable reputation for inventing a means by which snipson could work of a night, and yet stand no chance of being found out keeping up lights. the plan was this:-some small squat wax lights, used by nurses to "watch baby," were procured. these were not more than an inch high, and by themselves gave very little light. one of these being lighted was placed at the far end of the large water-can which was used in our room. the inside of this can, being very shiny, reflected the light and increased its power. the can was laid horizontally and in the bed, and was covered over by wet towels, so that it did not get too hot. by turning the can occasionally also, the wax burner shifted its position, and heated another part of the can. by placing a book at the mouth of the can, any one in bed could read easily. having explained this method to snipson, he got brag to consent to his adopting it, and he could then read for an hour or two every night. the safety of the plan was once fully shown, for the officer on duty once took it into his head to come round the rooms about eleven at night, and came very quickly to our room. snipson had not time to put out the light, so he covered the bedclothes over the mouth of the can, stuck up his knees so as to conceal the shape of it, and lay quite still. the officer turned his dark lantern onto him, gave a good look, and walked out, not the slightest indication of a light being visible. by this means snipson was enabled to read at night without much risk, and he complimented me by telling me, after all, i was not such a fool as i looked! in my own case i could not study by night, as i was not allowed to keep up lights. such a proceeding would have been considered "cool," and would have entailed a thrashing. i did not, however, feel disposed to work. i had so much anxiety to avoid my daily thrashing, or extra drill, or kicks, for various things, that actual progress in my studies seemed by comparison a very trifling matter. i hoped i should pull throughout did not think much about it. chapter nine. i come out as a runner. i may now devote a few lines to the description of the cadets of my own batch who joined with me, and with whom i was to compete during my career at the academy. there were among the class some amusing characters, and others who had marked individualities. boys (for we were boys at that time, being between fifteen and seventeen) have a singular peculiarity of being turned out in similar patterns--that is, two boys belonging to different families, who have never met and never been in similar conditions, yet very often have exactly similar peculiarities. there was kirk, who never would rub up indian ink or prussian blue for himself, but would always take dips from the saucers of other cadets. then sykes usually began to work fearfully hard just when it was time to turn out; and pagner, another cadet, prided himself on being above swat, and never seemed to work at all--the fact being that he drove off all his half-year's work till the last fortnight, and then tried to make up the leeway by cramming night and day. he, however, could not manage this, and, as the event proved, was spun at his probationary. one of my greatest friends was d'arcy. he was next above me in the batch, and had been prepared for woolwich by a private tutor. we found that we had in common a taste for natural history, and whenever we had a chance we used to go out in the shooter's hill woods and look for the various grubs or insects that we were interested in. the way we used to race up the hill and back again revealed to me a fact about myself that i was before unacquainted with, viz, that i was a very fast runner for about one hundred and fifty yards. a boy who had been brought up as much alone as i had could not judge of himself by a fair comparison, and though at hostler's i was considered a good runner, running was not much practised or thought of there. d'arcy, however, told me that he had been thought a very fast runner by a boy who was a crack runner at eton, and he was surprised to find how easily i beat him. in those days, at the academy, there were no annual athletic sports as there are now, for which the cadets regularly trained, and which made a pleasant break during the half-year; and the only use of being a good runner was in securing the first bat at cricket; for this was considered to be the prize of the cadet who first touched the lodge when the parade was broken off. this first bat i had frequently secured, and, though i had not put out all my speed, i found i could beat some of the cadets whose running i had heard spoken of as very good. the subject of running having been discussed one day at our squad at dinner, the head of the squad said he thought horsford, a cadet in his third term, the fastest hundred-yards' runner he had ever seen. now, on two occasions that i had run for the first bat i had tried against horsford, and on each occasion his position in the line had given him at least three yards' start of me; still i had gained on him so that only a yard separated us at last. from these trials i believed i could beat horsford, and, remembering the advice howard had given me about being prepared for any contest, i determined to keep up my running, and so i generally ran one or two hundred yards at speed each day. no one besides d'arcy had noticed that i was very fast in running, so i was what may be called "a dark horse," and i had a certain amount of ambition in wishing to try my speed against horsford. one evening, when brag was in a good temper, i said, "who do you think the fastest runner in the academy?" "for a hundred and twenty yards horsford is. he has won nearly every race he has run at that distance," replied brag. "i don't think he could give me ten yards in one hundred and twenty," i replied. brag looked at me with curiosity when i said this, and asked if i could run well. i told him i believed i could, as i had tried several times, and generally secured first bat (which, however, i was never allowed to retain if an old cadet was near). "i can run fairly," said brag, "so i can soon find out what you can do. come out and have a trial. it's nearly dark, so we can keep the secret." brag and i went out on the parade and paced off a hundred and twenty yards, and laid down a white handkerchief to mark the distance. we started ourselves, and commenced our race. before we had gone thirty yards i found i could go away from brag very, easily. i kept beside him for about seventy yards and then shot away, and beat him by nearly ten yards. when we pulled up, brag said, "by george, you can run! let me get my wind, and then see if you can give me ten yards in one hundred and twenty." after a few minutes, brag announced himself ready, and, having measured ten good paces, we started at "one, two, three, and away!" and commenced our second trial. not being able to see the handkerchiefs till near them, i did not know how to arrange my speed. i, however, caught and passed brag, and won by about two yards. "i don't think there is anything the matter with me," said brag, "and i believe i've run all right; and if so, you've a tremendous turn of speed. now, you keep quiet about this, and i'll have some fun." we went again to our rooms, and brag recommenced his work and said nothing to snipson about our trial race. on the following morning we had examinations, and those who had finished their papers came out of academy. there was no drill, so the cadets were scattered about the parade kicking the football and trying to kick it against the face of the clock. i was looking on at this, and watching for a chance of a kick, when i heard one old cadet call out to another,-"there's going to be a race soon?" "is there?" replied the cadet spoken to. "yes, brag says he's got a neux he will back for one hundred and twenty yards against horsford, if he will give the neux five yards' start." "who is the neux?" inquired the cadet. "i believe it's brag's own neux--young shepard." "oh, he's too short to run! horsford will lick his head off! here comes brag?" i now saw brag and about twenty old cadets coming from the library, and my name was soon called. i went up to brag, who said,-"shepard, you've to run a race for me, and if you don't win i'll scrag you! it's one hundred and twenty yards, and you get five yards' start." i asked leave to go to my room to get a pair of light shoes to run in, and, on coming out, found horsford with flannel trousers on, and all ready for the race. by this time all the cadets had come out of academy, and as any excitement was welcome, they all assembled on parade and made two lines, between which we were to run. the distance was carefully measured off, and i was placed five yards in front of horsford. "now mind your laurels, horsford!" said one of his backers; "don't shave it too close!" "i can manage this lot, i think," he replied. "shepard, you'll get a licking if you're beaten!" said a cadet near. "who is backing shepard?" inquired some old cadets. "only brag," was the reply. "he's got an idea that shepard can run, from some trial he had with him, but no one ever heard of shepard as a runner. brag has two or three pounds on the race, and i wouldn't be shepard for something, for brag will vent his disappointment on him." during this conversation, which i overheard, several cadets had cleared the course and made a line of handkerchiefs at the winning-post, whilst i toed a line five yards before horsford. i kept taking long breaths so as to oxygenise my blood well, for i hoped to run the whole distance without taking breath. i felt great confidence in myself, because in the races for the bat i fancied i was more speedy than horsford; for i did not imagine that he was concealing his speed for any purpose, so i saw no reason to doubt the result. everything being ready, the word "off!" was given, and away i went. i was very quick at starting, and got well on my legs at once. i could have run the whole distance at speed, but for the first sixty yards i did not do all i knew. i dared not look round, for i had read in sporting works that many races had been lost by doing so, so i could not tell whether horsford was near me. at about thirty yards from home, however, i could feel that my opponent was close to me. there were shouts of "go it, horsford!" "run, little 'un!" "now for it, horsford?" which showed me he was close to me; so, bracing myself up, as it were, i dashed on with all my speed and carried away the line of handkerchiefs on my chest. brag rushed up to me, and patted me on the back and said,-"bravo, youngster! you won cleverly." as i walked back to the winning-post i was the centre of curiosity. all the old cadets were staring at me, and i could not help feeling a certain amount of pride in having won this race. i had been so bullied and snubbed as a last-joined neux that all the conceit was taken out of me, and i felt regularly cowed, so that a triumph like the present was quite refreshing to me. the remarks of the old cadets, too, were amusing; for it was the general opinion that i looked less like a runner than any boy they had ever seen, as i looked delicate and was short. that evening, in our room, brag was very civil, and even snipson seemed to think more of me than he did before. when snipson left the room, which he did to go to the library, brag asked me if i thought i had won my race easily. i replied that i had, and added, "you won't think me conceited, i hope, if i say i am tolerably sure i can beat horsford even." "how can that be," said brag, "when you won by only a yard?" "because i ran slowly the first part of the race, wanting to try my speed in the last part, and i am certain at about sixty-five yards horsford was not a foot behind me." "ah! you can't beat horsford even," replied brag; "he's got so much longer a stride than you." "well, i believe i can." "horsford says to-day he was out of form, or else he could have won, so perhaps you may have another turn with him. i'll back you at five yards, but not at evens." i met horsford in the library next day, and he said,-"you were in great form yesterday, and i was out of sorts, but i didn't know you were such a runner. we must have another spin after the examinations are over, and i'll see if i can't turn the tables on you." i told brag of this remark, and he replied that he would back me again, but recommended me not to eat too much pastry and "soft tack," or i should get out of form. the examination now went on every day, and i felt i was not doing well. any way, if i passed out of the junior class i should be satisfied. i found that those boys who had been long at preparatory schools had an advantage over me in knowing languages better than i did. french and german were the only two languages we then learnt at the academy, and the curious system then was for the professors at the academy to teach also at the woolwich cram-schools. a boy who had, therefore, been for a couple of years at a woolwich school, and in the first class, knew well and was known by the professors of french and german, whereas one who had been trained as i had did not derive the benefit of the former instruction of the professors. it was supposed in those days that if we did not know languages when we joined the academy we did not pick them up there. this might be explained from the fact that so much individual and personal instruction is required in order to teach languages, and there was only one professor to about thirty-five cadets. day after day the examination continued, and i worked on, and at length, all being finished, there were about five days during which the results of the examination were being made up, and we had nothing to do but drill. this gave us plenty of spare time, and we had games of football, and various matches at rackets and other games. several cadets, however, who had lost their half-crowns in the race between horsford and myself, were anxious to recover these, and there were many opinions about our relative merits in running. i heard from some of my own batch that it was the general opinion that if horsford gave me three yards out of one hundred, it was a certainty for him. d'arcy, however, had told the head of his room that he thought i could win at these odds, and i also told brag i would go halves with him in anything he bet at those odds. a match of this kind caused much interest, and several cadets were interested in the proposed race. i heard that horsford had been quietly training, in order to get himself into form, and that he had said it was a certainty, as he was seedy when he ran with me, and was called upon all of a sudden to run. brag said he did not like the match much, but still, having won, he would give the losers a chance. it was decided that we should run on the centre parade in the afternoon, and the whole academy turned out to witness the match. i had carefully practised of an evening, both starting and running, and i could feel i was going very well. as i ran, i found i could pick up my feet quickly, and could, as far as it was possible to judge, run better than i ever ran. it occurred to me that if i could beat horsford at these odds i would run him even, and a feeling of ambition came over me that it would be something for a neux to be the best runner at the academy. the afternoon at length came of the day on which the match was to come off, and all the cadets who could come out came on the centre parade. i had taken the precaution of putting on a pair of loose, plain trousers, and rather tight shoes that i fancied i could run in well. just as we were assembling, the captain of the cadet company entered the inclosure and inquired what all the assembly was about. he was informed it was for a race, so, being a great advocate for athletic competitions, he stopped to see the match. horsford, i could see, was in earnest now, and had taken the same precautions that i had. he was dressed in complete running costume--a suit in which he had won several races at rugby, from which school he had come to woolwich. all the preliminaries having been arranged, we were placed at our respective scratches--i having three yards' start. i had ascertained that there were five inches difference in our height-at that time horsford being five feet six, and i only five feet one--but i believed i had as long a stride as he had, and was as quick on my legs. on the words, "are you ready?" being asked, i got all my weight on my rear leg, and, bracing myself up, was prepared for "off!" at the first trial we were off, and i ran as nearly as possible at full speed. i knew i could go a little, though not much, quicker than i was going, so i kept on till about twenty yards from goal. i then glanced round, and found horsford quite two yards behind me, so i maintained the same pace, and came in a winner by about a yard and a half. the cadets who had lost on this race at once went to brag and said, "shepard is too good, you know. horsford can't give him these three yards' start. let them run a race even, and we'll back horsford at two to one." brag looked at me inquiringly, so i gave him a nod, and he at once said, "all right. i dare say i shall lose, and i only bet just to give you a chance." the idea now came across me that if i won this race i should be the acknowledged best runner at the academy for a short distance. there was something pleasing to me in this idea, for i then discovered that i had ambition--and what is a boy or a man without? the individual who cares not whether he win or lose in any competition is a poor creature. he who is not to a certain extent downcast by defeat, or elated by a success, is not a man who will ever rise to eminence, for he will never use the exertion necessary to obtain success. in almost every case victory is obtained only by thought and care, expended by those who possess some special gifts of nature; and, although there is no reason why we should be unduly elated by any success, still one's self-love is gratified if we find we succeed above others. i was of course the hero of the day now that i had beaten horsford, for i heard he had run races with several old cadets and had won all these, so i longed to try conclusions with him at evens. d'arcy came to me and said, "if you run the whole distance at that speed, i know you'll win, so go in at it in earnest." this race was considered a hollow affair, as it was supposed that my opponent could not pull up a losing race, but could run well at evens. it was supposed that brag bet on this just to give the losers back some of the shillings they had lost; it was not supposed i had a chance. we had two false starts, but at the third trial we got off together, and for about fifty yards we were shoulder to shoulder. then horsford got slightly ahead, not more than the breadth of his own body, but i gradually regained this, and at about ninety yards was even with him and passing him. as soon as i had passed him he seemed to shut up, for he dropped behind all of a sudden, and i ran in a winner by about one yard. several cadets came up to me and said, "bravo, youngster! you've run well; you must get me the racket-court when i want it;" whilst my own batch wanted to carry me round the parade. however, i went to my room and changed my clothes, and endeavoured not to show any sign of being gratified at my victory. it was, however, to myself as much a gratification as a surprise. until i joined the academy i had no idea i had the qualifications of a good runner; i had never competed with other boys, and had consequently no opportunity of discovering my powers; but suddenly to find that out of nearly one hundred and fifty cadets i was the fastest runner was a great surprise, and i began to ask myself whether i had any other powers of which i knew nothing, and which had never before been called upon. both brag and snipson were now less disposed to bully me than they were before, and so buoyant is youth that all the hard knocks i had received on first joining were almost forgotten, and i began to look forward to the time when i should be an old cadet and have fags of my own. the result of the examinations was now out, and i found i had done very badly; from eleventh of the batch i had dropped to twenty-eighth, and the return was unsatisfactory in several things. i, however, just got into the third academy, though i was last but one, and i hoped that next term, when i should not be so much worried by fagging and bullying, i should be able to think more about my work, so i was not so much cast down as i otherwise should have been if i had not a reasonable excuse for having done badly. what was termed the "public" in those days was very dissimilar to the "duke's" day at present. formerly the "public" was an examination, though it was a sort of sham affair. as, however, it was a great day, i will give a full description of the proceedings. the "public" was the day on which the master-general of the ordnance, his staff, and all the principal heads of departments came to the academy to see the cadets. the order of proceeding was as follows:-the cadets were drawn up on parade and received the master-general with a salute. they were then put through certain manoeuvres by the senior cadets, and afterwards marched into the dining-hall. in the centre of the dining-hall a table was placed, large enough to enable the batch about to obtain their commissions to be seated at. near this was a long table, at which the master-general and officers were seated. an elevated platform, with stair-like seats, was erected at each end and side of the hall. on this the cadets were seated who were not yet qualified for commissions; a portion was also set aside for visitors belonging to the cadets. on all being assembled in the hall, the professors at the academy, beginning with the head cadet of the batch, asked questions, which each cadet answered in turn. sometimes these questions required demonstrations on the board, and the cadet used his chalk to draw figures and give demonstrations. after the professors had put questions, any of the officers present might do so, and there was often much amusement at the questions and answers--for very often the inquiries made had no reference whatever to any subject a cadet had learnt at the academy. one story that used to be told about these questions was, that a cadet was once asked what was sometimes used to wash out the bore of a gun. the cadet did not know what to say, so another cadet beside him whispered, "tan ash and water." the cadet, standing up, got nervous when he did not know what to say, and only heard imperfectly what his prompter said. "tan ash and water," again whispered the cadet. "a ten-inch mortar!" blurted out the puzzled cadet. the batch who heard this answer were ready to burst out laughing, especially when the officer who had asked the question, and who was rather deaf, said, "tan ash and water--very good!" an old officer, who was fond of a joke, was reported to have once asked the head cadet of the batch, "what would be the result, supposing an irresistible body came in contact with an immovable post on a plane?" the cadet answered that the body would come to rest. "no," replied the officer; "you forget the body is irresistible, and therefore cannot come to rest." "it would carry away the post," said the cadet. "no," again said the officer; "the post is immovable." after a little hesitation the cadet said he didn't know what would happen. "quite right, sir," said the officer, "neither do i, nor any one else, for the conditions are impossible. i only wanted you to say, `i don't know.' some men would have attempted long explanations." when the cadets had been publicly examined, the various prizes were given, and, after one or two speeches by the senior officers, the academy broke up. i started for london that afternoon by coach, which was one of about forty four-horse coaches that used then to pass over shooter's hill every day _en route_ from london to dover, slept at a friend's, and on the following day was carried by coach to the new forest, and once more found myself in the quiet of home. the change that had taken place in me during my first half-year at the academy was very great. instead of being a raw country boy i was now a somewhat experienced young man. the knocking about i had received at the academy had forced me to use my perceptive powers in every way to save myself from being thrashed for neglect; and i had thus cultivated my observational faculties, so that i noticed far more than probably i ever should had i remained at home. now that i was at home i found i was somewhat of a hero. all the countrymen round--the foresters--who knew me as quite a little boy, now touched their hats to me, for they called me a "sodger-officer!" and had heard i had done something wonderfully clever at an examination. i also found that among our friends i took quite a different position to what i had done four months before. in reality, i learnt now the advantage of being a soldier, for i was looked on as one; and i felt the benefit of this when i heard young ladies tell their brothers what a pity it was they had not been drilled, and taught to stand up, and walk like mr shepard! i had been at home about a week when my father told me one morning that he had a letter from howard, who would be in the neighbourhood shortly. "i will write and ask him to stay here a night or two. you would like to compare notes with him about the academy, i dare say." "yes, that i should," i replied, for i still looked, on howard as a hero, and found my veneration for him by no means decreased when i remembered that he must have gone through all i had, and all i must go through before i obtained my commission; also that he was an old cadet when the present old cadets were only schoolboys. i wanted also to hear from howard what used to go on when he was a cadet, and compare the bullying, fagging, etc, in his day with what i had myself experienced; for it was a doubtful point in my own mind whether or not i had been more bullied than other neuxes, and whether, if i had been, it was due to any peculiarity in myself, or was owing to the old cadets in my room being what was termed regular bullies. when i met howard he expressed his surprise at my improved appearance. "you've grown and filled out," he said, "and before long you'll be a formidable antagonist with your fists. and how do you like the shop?" he inquired. i had a brief conversation with howard then; but it was not till after dinner, when the ladies had left, and howard, my father, and i were alone, that i became inquiring and confidential; and it was only then that my father became aware of the extent to which bullying was carried at the academy thirty add years ago. his astonishment was great, for the tales i told were capped by howard, and there was no margin left on which to place any doubts as regards the truth of our incidents. after i had described the angle of forty-five, and the running round the table whilst the old cadets flipped me, howard said, "yes, all that's pretty bad, but were you ever kept up half the night looking out for squalls, or has that gone out of fashion?" "i've never heard of that. what is it?" i inquired. "to look out for squalls a cadet was divested of nearly all his clothes, and was made to climb up the iron bars of the window and there hold on. if he came down without orders he received a tremendous thrashing, and it was supposed to be a trial of a cadet's obedience to orders. i remember, when i was a neux," said howard, "i was sent up once to the top of the window, and told to remain there till further orders. after some time i heard both the old cadets snoring, so i thought i might as well come down and go to bed. i had scarcely gone down many inches when one of the old cadets called out, `by george, sir, you shall have a thrashing for that! you thought i was asleep, eh? i just pretended to snore, to see if you could be trusted to obey orders. why, you ought to remain there till you dropped rather than leave your post!' i went up again, and remained for above an hour, when i was so cramped i could with difficulty move. both cadets were snoring, but i suspected another trap, so hesitated about coming down. at length, however, i could hold on no longer, and fell heavily to the ground, from which i was picked up insensible. but i soon got all right, and wasn't much hurt after all." "but," said my father, "these things are perfectly brutal. don't the authorities interfere?" "yes," replied howard, "they would if what was done was brought before them in any way; but it rarely happens that they hear of these things." "but don't the boys--the fags--complain to the authorities about such ill-usage?" "if they did, the life they would lead would be unendurable. every cadet, old and young, would cut them, and they would be bullied to such an extent that i don't believe any boy would stay at the academy. he would be considered a sneak; and if a cadet once gained such a name it would be all over with him. "a case once happened when i was a neux," continued howard, "where a cadet told his mother of some of the things he had to do as a neux. his mother foolishly wrote to the captain of the cadet company about it, and said she hoped he would see her son was not put to perform menial offices. the captain of course had to treat the matter officially; there was an inquiry, and it resulted in the head of this cadet's room being rusticated for a half-year. well, the result was that the neux became a marked man; he was fagged, and thrashed, and sent to drill so often, that he could not stand it, and at last ran away from the academy. it's of no use for a cadet to attempt to go against the stream; he must grin and bear it." "i should think it would entirely break a boy's spirit," said my father, "and ruin him for life." "not a bit of it," replied howard. "it is not that i advocate bullying; but i have never seen very much harm done by it. that it ought to be stopped i think there is no doubt, for i believe that of all the despotic tyrants in the world a boy is the greatest. to him there is a delight in tyrannising; and bully he will. usually it is size and strength that makes the bully; and this is its worst form, and is known to exist everywhere. now at the academy it is not size or strength that gives the right to fag, but seniority only. the smallest old cadet may kick or fag a last-joined giant." "it is a bad, brutal system, and ought to be put an end to," said my father. "if i had known the extent to which this system was carried at woolwich i never would have let bob go there." "i'm very glad you didn't know then," i replied, "for the worst is over now, and i've really only another half-year of it, and then i shall be tolerably free." "what i believe ought to be done," said howard, "is to separate fagging from gratuitous bullying. nothing is more offensive in society than an unlicked cub, and you find many of these in places where men don't belong to either service, or have never been to public schools. i believe, from what i have read in marryat's novels, that in the navy there is far more bullying with the youngsters than there ever has been at woolwich; and i fancy also at our principal public schools there is plenty of it. the generality of boys are not so sensitive as we older people are, and we give them credit for feeling much as we should; whereas i know now that i look back with rather a sense of satisfaction to the bullying i went through, and the manner in which i stood it. you see, mr shepard," continued howard, "we men in the army have to lead a roughish life of it; we don't always live in drawing-rooms, or mix with ladies; so a soft, delicate, sensitive sort of fellow, who can't stand a little bullying without crying out for help, is not the sort of man we want for an officer. now i can see that bob there is twice the man he was when i first knew him, and he is more fit to battle with the world, than he would have been, if he had merely stopped at home translating herodotus and catching butterflies. "i'll tell you another advantage there is in having fagging at woolwich. when an officer gets his commission in either the artillery or engineers, his seniors never play tricks on him, or attempt skylarking-all that was done with when the officers were neuxes at the academy. in the line, how ever, unless an ensign joined from sandhurst, and had passed through a phase of bullying, he was the victim of various practical jokes; and then there was no regular time at which these practical jokes ceased. now it is not the right thing for a commissioned officer to be made the butt for the jokes of his seniors; still the ensigns are sometimes so raw, so self-sufficient, and require to be put in their proper places so much, that their seniors have no hesitation in bullying them for a time. it is far better, to my mind, that a cadet about fifteen should be subjected to a system of bullying-if you like to call it so--than that an ensign in her majesty's service should be. fancy, too, what a set of fellows we might get in the service if they were not knocked into shape by their companions! why, look at your neighbour's son, hynton, who may some day be a baronet! he's nearly twenty, and is little better than a lout, because he has never been to school, but has always had a tutor at home. he is conceited, stupid, and thinks, because he is tall, stout, and strong, that he may do anything. he would have been made into a capital fellow by a little course of fagging when he was a youngster?" "ah!" replied my father; "you are a thorough advocate for the system, i can see; but i am dead against it. i think it brutalises boys, and makes bullies of them in afterlife." "i don't think that," replied howard. "i believe men who are bullies will be so under any circumstances, and are not inclined to be so by being first fags and then having the power to fag. in my day, also, at the academy downright bullying was discountenanced by all the old cadets, or at least nearly all of them, and any cadet known to be a regular bully was stopped from being allowed to fag." "that's not the case now," i remarked. "a cadet may bully as much as he likes." i thought of snipson and brag as i said this, and the amount of suffering i had gone through on first joining came fresh to my memory. "then the academy is degenerating," said howard; "and if what i may call wholesome fagging goes out, it will be because a bad style of men get to be old cadets, and carry things so far that the authorities will stop it altogether." on the following morning i took a walk with howard, and took the opportunity of telling him of my having been obliged to hang by my arms whilst i was pegged at by racket-balls; and i asked if any such thing was done in his day. "the fellow who did that must be a snob," said howard, "and deserves to be kicked by the old cadets! unless you or the other neuxes had struck, or been cool in some way, that kind of thing ought not to have been done." four days howard stayed with us, and i had learnt much from him during that time. he advised me to work hard all next half, particularly in academy, so as to pass my probationary well, and to make friends with d'arcy, who, he said, was a very good fellow, and had a brother who was a cadet with him. he also gave me some useful hints about examinations, and recommended a system of artificial memory for remembering formulae and various dates. he also told me i should find the advantage all my life of becoming skilled as a boxer and single-stick player, and that one of the academy sergeants was a first-rate instructor at both. "you're not a fellow," said howard, "who would get into a row for the sake of showing off--a gentleman never does that sort of thing--so the knowledge of how to use your fists would not be likely to make you quarrelsome; but it is a pleasure to know that when you see some hulking lout who is a bully, and who is doing what he ought not to do, you can give him a thrashing if you like. i've always felt a sort of pleasure," said howard, "when walking through the streets of paris, to think that i could thrash at least ninety-nine out of the hundred of the men one meets, for frenchmen cannot use their fists. you should go in strong also for rackets and cricket; there is nothing more indicative of a muff than a fellow who is not good at some game or other. i remember hearing once of some general who said he would always select his staff from the men who were best across country, and you may depend on it that there's great truth in the suggestion. i've generally found the best officers were men who were good at games. you can play chess well, i know, as your father told me you were within a pawn of him. so take my advice, and follow the maxim, that `what is worth doing at all is worth doing well!'" my time passed pleasantly enough during the vacation, for i fully appreciated the quiet of the forest and its splendid trees, after having been crowded by my fellows and surrounded by houses during the past year. i did not look forward with much pleasure to my return to the academy. i knew that some second-half cadets were fagged as much as if they were last-joined, and it was quite possible that such might be my fate; the novelty, too, of being a cadet and wearing uniform was departing, and i looked more to realities than i had at first. the prospect of being turned out at six o'clock a.m. to go and brush clothes in another room was not pleasant, nor did i relish the idea of being once more placed on a table as the target for boots and brushes. in fact, i was getting older rapidly; and as i grew very fast and became much stronger, a rebellious feeling came over me that was not favourable to my future obedience as a neux. on comparing brag and snipson with howard, or oven with several of the other old cadets i knew, i could not but feel that these two were very bad specimens of the cadet of that day. they were both bullies; they excelled in nothing, were low down in their class, and in spite of this were both very conceited. their style of conversation, too, was inferior to what i had heard from other old cadets. their ideas were cramped, and they seemed to take a mean or malicious view of everything, and to attribute to all other persons bad motives for what they did or said. i remarked, also, that neither brag nor snipson had a good word for any one. if any cadet's name was mentioned, one or the other of these would commence with "oh, yes! he's all very well in his way, but then he's not such a swell as he thinks himself, for i have good reason to believe that he," etc, etc, etc; and here would follow some disparagement of the individual whose name was mentioned. brag and snipson somehow got on well together. they were unpopular at the academy, and perhaps that gave them some sympathetic feeling for each other; but the principal reason, i believe, was that they used to flatter one another very much. whatever brag did, snipson said was "deuced well done;" and when snipson did anything, brag declared it was very clever. there was no use in concealing the fact, between myself and the two old cadets in my room there was a very great antipathy, and i can use no milder term to indicate with truth my feelings towards them than to say i detested them both. to be at the mercy of a bully for whom you have a contempt, is a very trying position, and such had been my fate during the whole of the first term i was a cadet at woolwich. as the time arrived for my return to woolwich, i was anxious principally about the room in which i should live. it was quite a chance whether i had a nice or a disagreeable head of the room, but my comfort or misery for five months was dependent on the peculiar character of this cadet. chapter ten. a "second-half" cadet at woolwich. having made the journey from hampshire to woolwich in one day, i reported myself at the academy at about six in the evening, and then found that i was appointed to no. 16 room, the head of which was a cadet named forester. on going to this room i found i was the first arrival, and i also ascertained that the second of my room was fenton. i was the third, and there was a vacancy for the fourth, who most likely would be a last-joined, and consequently the regular fag of the room. about eight o'clock forester came, and was very civil to me; asked me if i had been winning any more races during the vacation, and told me i must always secure a racket-court for him. the securing the racket-court was by some cadet, either on coming out from the hall or being broken off at parade, racing to the court and being first in. he could then, if he liked, resign his claim to any one else; so it was not unusual for a neux who could run well to be employed for this purpose. "you'll find fenton a very good fellow," said forester; "and i should think you are heartily glad to get out of brag's room." "brag and snipson both used to bully me a great deal," i said; "but i suppose it's the usual thing." i did not yet know forester well enough to speak freely about the treatment i had received, so i was cautions in my remarks. about nine o'clock fenton came in, and i at once took a fancy to him. he was short, stoutly built, and very dark. he and forester were great friends, and were antagonists at rackets, and i also found they both played chess. during the first few days of my second half i was very comfortable. i had little to do for either forester or fenton. i brushed them, and they did the same to me; and i brought books, etc, from the library for forester, but there was no bullying from either of them. in a week after my return a last-joined cadet was appointed to our room, and to him was allotted the work which had hitherto fallen to my share. the last-joined was called hampden, and was a wild irishman. he was soon called upon to sing his songs of a night, and make his odes to the moon, but i was never sent for now, as the heads of rooms and old cadets in my division were contented in fagging the last-joined. hampden could neither sing nor make speeches, and his strong irish accent was very amusing, so that he was well laughed at, and pelted with boots and brushes, when he failed to make any speeches. he was, however, very good-tempered, and the more he was chaffed the more he seemed pleased. it was about ten days after my return, that snipson told me one day that he wanted to see me over at his room, which was in the "towers." on going there he informed me that he had now a single room, and therefore had not a fag, and as there was a last-joined in my room i couldn't have much to do, so he should require me at his room every morning at seven to brush clothes, and look out for things he wanted. this order was a great annoyance to me; i had been so quiet and comfortable in my room that i fancied the worst part of the fagging was over; but now having to turn out and dress by seven, and go over to the "towers" where snipson ordered me about, was, as i termed it, "disgusting." i told forester of the order, and he said i had better go, for it was the custom for one or two cadets of the second term to be fagged at the "towers," where no last-joined were quartered. i soon found that snipson seemed to dislike me as much as i did him; there was a natural antipathy between us, and we seemed to have nothing in common. he found fault with all i did, and complained that i mislaid everything and did not brush his clothes properly. i ground my teeth at his complaints and kicks, but i had to bear them nevertheless, for there was in those days the most rigid discipline used against a neux who "struck," as it was termed, against an old cadet. i knew that of the two evils it was the lesser to bear the bullying of snipson rather than to commit any act as bad for a cadet as mutiny for an officer or soldier. i found there were no other second-half cadets besides myself who were really fagged regularly, except where there was no fourth to a room, so i thought my case a hard one. however, there was no use in complaining, so i did my work and stood my bullying in as dogged a manner as possible. when the idea had first seized me of becoming a soldier, i had taken as my model-man howard. i was won and almost enchanted by the knowledge and apparent power he possessed. he seemed above what may be termed the little trivialities of life, and to have a wide and general view of everything. to him there seemed to be given a capacity for looking at all subjects with the power of an impartial judge, and at the same time he exhibited an enthusiasm for the service which, though toned down by experience, was yet shown in various ways. when i had been some weeks in the room with brag and snipson, and had listened to their conversation, was conversant with their ideas and opinions, i could not but feel disappointed when i knew that two men with such mean sentiments, cramped ideas, and such disparaging views of others, should be so near to becoming officers in one or other of the scientific corps. one of the charms of howard was the readiness with which he bestowed praise on anything or anybody that deserved it. the beauty of the new forest, for example, was a subject on which he used to dilate. i was once with him on a lovely autumnal afternoon, when the sun was lighting up the richly-tinted foliage of the forest, amidst which the dark green of the fir-tree was seen; the distant water of the solent glittering like silver beyond endless waves of forest glades; the far and cloudy-looking hills in the island marking the distance, and presenting a lovely variety of scenery rarely obtainable in england. howard stopped and looked at the view, and, with a heartiness that showed how he appreciated it, exclaimed, "by jove! that's a lovely bit of scenery!" "but," i said, "abroad you must have seen far more beautiful views than this?" "of course i have; i've seen grand mountains rising twelve thousand feet direct from a plain, and i've seen tropical forests with their branches hung with wild vine, whilst gorgeous metallic-looking broad-leaved exotics were scattered about in profusion. but because i've seen that, it does not prevent this from being a perfect bit of english landscape." i compared these remarks of howard's with those of a gentleman who came to see us some time after howard had left, and who, on seeing the same view, exclaimed, "oh, i dare say you think it very fine, but it's nothing to what i have seen in other places." i was young then, and did not know the world or the men comprising it; so, although an uncomfortable feeling came over when i heard this remark, i did not know how to account for the difference between the opinions expressed by howard and by this visitor. yet how often in the world do we meet with persons of both the types i have here referred to! we meet men with generous minds, ready to acknowledge merit and to admit its genuineness, who do not condemn that which is good merely because they have seen or heard that which they consider better. these men are usually those who have worked and won themselves, and who know that even mediocrity is not gained without great trouble. they are men whose praise or good opinion is worth having, for they judge of a matter on its merits, not by mere comparison. others, again, _condemn_ everything which is not what they consider equal to the very best they have seen or heard. with them it is not the merit of a subject which is examined or considered, but the comparison between that and some other. these men are usually ungenerous and conceited, without the slightest cause for being so. they are men who would make the unaspiring believe that to work for success was a mere waste of time--that even if success were gained it would not be worth having. such men, and women too, are met everywhere; they are the cold sheets of society, who do harm to the weak and infirm of purpose, and in almost every case have no merit of their own, and not one single point of excellence in their nature. that which struck me most forcibly during my first half-year, and my acquaintance with snipson and brag, was this "nil admirari" style. neither of them had a good word for anybody. the cadet who was head of his batch before i joined was once discussed by these two, and the following was the conversation:-"some fellows say that london is so awfully clever," said snipson, "and got a higher decimal than any fellow has since, about four years ago. now, i don't think him a bit clever--in fact, i think him rather stupid, for he was a most awful `mug.' i don't suppose any fellow swatted harder than he did his last two terms in order to be head of the batch." "oh, any fellow who mugged as he did could be head of a batch!" replied brag. "besides, i don't think passing examinations well is any great proof of being very clever. i dare say if i set to work i might pass well, but it's not worth the trouble." "hopkins of that batch thinks a deal of himself too," said snipson, "because he's third of the batch. why, i remember the time when i could beat him at everything; but then i didn't choose to slave away as he did. there's dawkins, too, who is fifth; he got to be that i believe merely by sponging; he was always sneaking about the octagon, pretending he was hard at work. i hate a fellow doing like that." young as i was, i could perceive that neither brag nor snipson would have made such remarks unless they had imagined themselves superior to all those whom they had mentioned; and the latent belief thus revealed is, we believe, one of the reasons why the slanderer or even scandal-monger of society is agreeable to some natures, and produces abhorrence in others. to the honest, straightforward, hard-working man, who judges of things by their merits, and who loves the truth and detests the sham, this system of disparaging is offensive and painful. to such a nature it is more pleasant to hear the excellence and the good qualities of people referred to than it is to hear only their defects, supposed or real, or their evil deeds, or those attributed to them, referred to. the thoroughly noble woman who is herself true, and who possesses the gift of charity, finds no pleasure in the society of a person whose conversation consists mainly in slandering her neighbours. the woman who is herself false, and who endeavours to pervert the truth, finds her vanity gratified when she can hear anything related which drags her neighbour's name into the mud. as a corollary, therefore, it may be stated that, given the woman who paints her eyebrows, blackens her eyelids, powders and tints her face, and there you find to a certainty the character whose delight is intense when she can glean any intelligence about her dear friends of such a nature as to damage their characters, and to retail such intelligence with additions is to her a luxury. having experienced four months of the society of brag and snipson, i could not avoid feeling that they were inferior men, who would never by fair means make a mark in the world, and who were not desirable either as friends or enemies. i had been but a very brief time in forester's room before i became deeply interested in him. he used to read a great deal, and had at that time the rare accomplishment of being able to talk about other matters beside "shop." he was devoted to soldiering, and had studied carefully "napier's peninsula" and other similar books, and used to talk of a night, when lights were out, with fenton about various actions and their results. as i look back on those days, i can recall many of the remarks that forester made, and have been struck with the value of these, and of their practical application even now. one, in particular, i remember was, "that all the extensive theory that we learnt at the academy would probably never be of use to one in twenty of the cadets in afterlife, whilst we should know nothing about certain practical matters when we became officers, which every non-commissioned officer would be acquainted with." "an officer's head," said forester, "ought to be like a soldier's knapsack--have a few useful things in it always handy and ready for use--just the things required for every day." once, after a long game of chess with fenton, forester remarked that people said chess and war were very much alike. "they would be," he said, "more alike if, when playing chess, you were bound to move within one minute after your adversary, and also if you had a drum beating in your ears and a fellow shying racket-balls at you. i believe," he said, "that the men who make the best leaders of troops are usually hard, strong men, without too much brains, whilst the great generals and planners of campaigns are quite different men. these should be careful thinkers, and men with great nervous power, and it is such men who are most upset by disturbing causes. i have often thought," continued forester, "that we ought to have a thinking general and a working one--the first to think out the moves, the other to execute them." before i had been long in this room, forester expressed his opinion about keeping up lights. he said,-"i think taking away our lights at half-past nine, and leaving us to undress and go to bed in the dark, is absurd; but when i have said to the officer on duty that `i have no lights concealed, and no intention of procuring a light,' i feel bound in honour to act up to what i say." "but no one really looks upon the usual report about lights as given on honour," said fenton. "i've nothing to do with what other fellows think," said forester. "i only know what i state to an officer, and if i keep up lights after having stated i will not do so, i consider i have `smashed.'" [note 1.] i here learnt for the first time the great effect produced on us by the society in which we mix, and the influence that such society has on our opinions. when snipson wished to keep up lights, brag did not object from a moral point of view, but because it was not safe. i also turned my attention to a plan of keeping a light burning without reflecting on its being dishonourable. now, however, when forester expressed his views about it, i felt i agreed with him, and was ashamed of having aided snipson to commit an act which i now looked on as dishonourable. there were very curious ideas among the cadets in those days. one of these was, that it was rather a smart thing to get very nearly tipsy-that is to say, "screwed." if a cadet could prove that he had arrived at this state through drinking champagne or "old port," he thought himself a man of judgment and taste. this peculiar opinion was confined to only a few cadets, a sort of clique, and was much condemned by forester. "there is no doubt," said forester, "that of all men in the world who should never be the worse for what they have drunk, a soldier is the one. he and a driver of an engine, if drunk, may cause the death of hundreds of men. besides, a fellow who gets drunk i look on as a fool, for he must know so little about himself that he cannot tell how much of anything will make him tipsy. i don't know a more disgusting sight than to see a man drunk and incapable, and why some fellows here think it fast i cannot imagine." in our division was an old cadet named marsden, who was always boasting of the wine he had drank when on leave, or when he had been home. it happened that marsden's father was an officer retired on full pay; but, like most officers, he was poor, and, though occasionally he asked cadets to dinner, he never produced any wines besides sherry, and, as cadets declared, his sparkling wine was gooseberry. saumer in those days was unknown. more than once marsden had returned from leave and made a great shouting in the division, asserting that "the moet's champagne was so strong." forester had more than once made remarks about this proceeding, and at length, with three or four other cadets who thought the same as he did, organised a plot against marsden, which turned out a most amusing affair, but one somewhat unpleasant to marsden. it wanted about half an hour to roll-call one sunday evening, when marsden came into the division shouting. "there's marsden again?" said forester. "now for a lesson for him!" forester got up and went into the passage, where he was joined by three other cadets, who seemed to have turned out by signal. "what's the matter, marsden?" said forester. "beastly screwed on guv'nor's champagne!" said marsden as he leant against the wall. "it's close on roll-call," said forester, "and the officer will see you!" "blow officer!" muttered marsden. "we mustn't let him be discovered," said forester in a compassionate tone. "let's help him out of it." at a signal, forester and the other cadets seized marsden, lifted him off his legs, and carried him to the back yard--he shouting and struggling in a half-drunken way. suddenly, however, he seemed to foresee what was in store for him, for he called out in quite a sober tone, "i'm not drunk, forester; i was only humbugging. i'm not drunk; i'm not!" forester and his companions, whom i had followed, were silent, but very determined. they paid no attention to these shouts, but took off marsden's coattee, and reduced his dress to a pair of trousers and a shirt. three cadets then held him, whilst forester, seizing the handle of the pump, sent a powerful stream of water over marsden's head and down his back. "nothing like a cold bath to set a fellow right when he's screwed?" said forester, as he worked vigorously at the pump-handle and deluged marsden with a cold stream. "i'm not drunk?" shouted marsden. "let me go! i'm not drunk!" not the slightest attention was paid to marsden till he had been fully a minute under the pump, when he was released with the inquiry as to his feeling better and more sober. "i'm not drunk, you confounded donkeys!" shouted marsden again, in a great rage. at this instant the officer on duty, having from his quarters heard the shouting, came through the division, and, seeing marsden with his hair and clothes all wet, and hearing his shouts of "i'm not drunk?" at once said,-"mr marsden, you're tipsy! you'll be in arrest, sir, till further orders?" "i'm not drunk, sir?" said marsden. "go to your room, sir, in arrest!" said the officer, as he walked off from the division. when forester came into his room he was in fits of laughter. "if that won't cure marsden of shamming i don't know what will!" he said. "it serves him quite right for humbugging as he does?" on the following morning marsden asked forester to give evidence as to his not being drank the night before, "for," said marsden, "you know i wasn't." "what?" said forester; "when you told me you were beastly screwed on guv'nor's gooseberry--champagne, i mean? you don't mean to say you told a lie? i was bound to believe you, and did what i thought was best for you to save you from being seen in the state you were by the officer?" "but i wasn't screwed!" said marsden. "not when the officer came," replied forester; "that's very likely. a powerful shower-bath is a wonderful soberer; and next time you come in screwed and shouting from the effects of champagne, you'll find it just as good a cure! no, i can't say you were not screwed; you looked like being so, and you said you were?" there was an audible titter on parade that day when the officer on duty read out, among other orders by the captain of the cadet company, that mr marsden, having been under the influence of drink when returning from leave on sunday evening, was to be in arrest for seven days! forester's cure was effective. marsden was never the worse for his governor's wine after that evening. -----------------------------------------------------------------------note 1. "smashed," in those days, was the familiar term for having broken one's word of honour. chapter eleven. outbreak to charlton fair. towards the middle of my second half-year two very stirring events occurred at the academy, in each of which i played a subordinate part. the singular experiences i had in these two affairs are worthy of being recorded. in the neighbourhood of woolwich is a small village, called charlton, which at that time was a thoroughly rural place. an old blacksmith's forge stood in the middle of the village, and two old-fashioned-looking inns. at the entrance of this village was a field, termed "the fair-field," where a large fair was annually held. this fair was termed "horn fair," and was one of the sights of the time. fairs have now degenerated, and have lost their glory; but thirty years ago horn fair day was a kind of derby day, at which all the _elite_ of the neighbourhood were to be seen from about two till five on one particular day out of the three that the fair lasted. from the entrance to the fair to the branch roads, where the cemetery is now situated, the carriages used to stand two deep during the time their occupiers strolled about the fair. since those days, however, the railway has given such facility for the east-end of london to send down its unwashed hundreds, that first the fair was deserted by the ladies of the neighbourhood, next by the gentlemen, and finally was done away with as being detrimental to the neighbourhood. during the three days that the fair lasted the cadet company were confined to the enclosure, and were not allowed to visit the village of charlton. such a restriction was ordered on account of a row which some years previously had occurred between the cadets and some of the fair people; but it was very obnoxious to the old cadets, and particularly to one who had been reduced from the rank of corporal to that of cadet. this individual had a great deal of influence among the seniors, and on the morning of the second day of the fair he paid a visit to the majority of the rooms, in order to ventilate his ideas and organise a plan he had in his mind for the evening. the cadet, who was named prosser, came to our room to see forester, and said, "don't you think it's an awful shame to confine us to barracks like a set of schoolboys, instead of trusting us to go to the fair? i want your opinion about it, forester." "well," replied forester, "i think it's bad taste, and a mistake, for it seems to say, `if you go to the fair you will get into a row,' but i don't see what's the use of complaining." "i'll tell you what the use is," said prosser. "i've got a lot of fellows who are game to fall in after tea, and go straight away to the fair--that is, if every one will go. you see, if everybody goes, they can't break a few fellows only, and they can't pitch into everybody, and i believe they will see it won't do to shut us up like sheep, but that we shall get more liberty." "i won't join," said forester, "if i can help it, and i think it's not the right way to go to work to remedy a grievance." during that afternoon a paper was passed round the academy, saying that the whole of the first and second class would fall in on the centre parade at half-past eight, and double off to the fair, and the third and fourth class were to fall in at the same hour and place. this came as a kind of order from the old cadets, and we all signed our names as willing to agree to go. everything was kept very quiet during the afternoon, for fear the authorities might hear of the plot, and at half-past eight every cadet fell in quietly on the grass inside the academy, and, the words of command being whispered from file to file, we broke into a double, and ran across the common towards charlton. there were present on that occasion every cadet except the eight corporals on duty, who thought they were bound in honour not to leave their posts. this was a sort of compromise with duty, for these eight corporals were perfectly aware that the breakout of barracks was going to be attempted, and had they done their duty they would have reported this, and put a stop at once to the affair; but the moral courage to do so was wanting. still, none of these cadets liked to leave their posts--an indication of the right feeling that prevailed at that time in many things at the academy, and at the same time a proof of the inconsistency in the ideas of the cadets. forester declined to join the "mutiny," as it might be termed, on principle, but he left fenton and myself to do as we liked, and we both went. the "cadet company," as i might term it, having got well clear of the academy and across the common, came to a quick march, and the word was then passed down the ranks as to our proceedings at the fair. on nearing the fair we were to form four deep and double through the fair. we were then to enter one of the large dancing-booths, and clear it of its occupants, and finally to "pitch into" any persons who opposed us. under the influence of the excitement and companionship of the senior cadets, i thought the proceeding a brilliant one. the effect of charging through the fair would be grand, something like a real battle, and the people of the fair would see what a fine set of daring fellows the cadets were. with such ideas i approached the fair-field, little dreaming that three days would not elapse before i had come to the conclusion that a more foolish, stupid, and ridiculous proceeding could not have been proposed or carried out than this one, and that even the most enthusiastic of the party would admit that it was a contemptible and childish display. most rows or street fights, when looked upon calmly, may be classed under the same head. they arise usually from the combatitive stupidity of some individual or individuals who want excitement, or who imagine that they will exhibit their powers before an admiring audience during some fight in which they may be engaged. two of the original promoters of the raid to the fair were the two biggest and most powerful cadets at the academy, and were tolerably sure to hold their own in any row that might take place. for us smaller bodies the prospect was not so promising. on nearing the entrance-gate we formed closely in fours, and at a double charged down between the booths. men, women, and children were knocked over right and left, and sent sprawling on the ground, whilst we were saluted with stones, sticks, and other weapons seized impromptu by the indignant public. having made our way down the fair we entered the largest dancing-booth, which was immediately deserted by the occupants. seizing the chairs, a few of these were smashed, and shots were then taken at the many-coloured oil-lamps, the majority of which were knocked down, but not broken. there was then a shout to extinguish all the lamps in the fair, whilst one or two of the most reckless cadets shouted, "turn out the menagerie!" by this time, however, there was an organised 'stance to us. the sticks used for knock-'em-downs were seized by a number of men, who commenced using these very freely, and we were soon compelled to retreat, which we did in tolerably good order; not, however, without those in rear receiving some very heavy blows. at the academy matters had not been idle. the cadets having left the academy, there was a silence that, to the experienced ears of the officer on duty, at once indicated that something was up. coming out of his quarters he found the divisions deserted, and, on entering the library, found the corporal on duty, who informed him the cadets had left the enclosure. the assembly was immediately sounded, and was obeyed only by the corporals on duty and two cadets who were ill, having just left hospital. taking with him the corporals on duty the officer at once started for the fair, giving orders that each cadet seen was at once to be placed in arrest. now, as a cadet was bound in honour to obey an arrest, this plan would have been effective for sending home the company. when, however, the officer was within a hundred yards of the fair-field he met the cadets returning, and at once ordered the whole of them in arrest to their rooms. for many hundred yards from the fair we were followed by a rabble, which delighted in pelting us with various missiles and abusing us, as they now could do with impunity. on reaching the enclosure we all went to our rooms, relating our individual experiences, escapes, and performances. one cadet had exchanged blows with a supposed prizefighter, and had held his own; another had knocked down a burly rough who was just going to smash the head of a cadet with a life-preserver. this cadet had tripped up a peeler who was trying to collar a cadet; that cadet had rescued a snooker who was actually in the grasp of two roughs. the feats performed were really marvellous--at least in their accounts--and for that night we were well pleased with ourselves. forester listened to fenton's account of the affair, and put a few questions, and then pronounced his verdict, that we had all made a set of fools of ourselves, and that probably the company would be decimated, every tenth cadet being discharged. during the next two or three days there were endless speculations as to what would be the punishment given us for our conduct, and as the excitement of the affair wore off, the corporals and seniors began to get anxious for their prospects, for it was feared a severe example would be made of at least the corporals and under-officers who had gone to the fair. the whole company was confined to barracks, and could not therefore go beyond the "ha-ha" so that groups of twenty or thirty cadets used to assemble every day and walk about arm-in-arm discussing the proceedings at the fair, and the probable results. about ten days after the breaking out the whole company was assembled on parade, and the decision of the master-general made known. it was to the effect that every under-officer and corporal present at the fair was to be reduced to the rank of a cadet, all leave stopped till the end of the half, and the question left open whether or not the commission of these should be delayed six months. by many this punishment was considered slight, for they had expected to be rusticated, and to lose, consequently, a term; so that, as soon as the order had been read out, there was a subdued murmur of satisfaction among those who had been the ringleaders of the affair, and whose position as the seniors rendered them responsible. this history of the life of a woolwich cadet is intended to be a relation of the events that occurred some thirty odd years ago, and to be described as those events presented themselves to the mind of a cadet at that time. to mix up with these relations of incidents anything formal or serious would be to a certain extent out of place. this work is not intended as instructive, or as even suggestive; still, if in it some mention were not made of a most important problem connected with military educational establishments, it certainly would lack one feature, without which it would be destitute of what may be termed "backbone." the problem to which we refer is the discipline necessary in any military educational establishment. when we consider that a large military establishment devoted to educational purposes, such as that of woolwich, turns out probably eighty officers per year; that these officers become our future captains, colonels, and generals; that to them are entrusted commands over hundreds and thousands of men according as they rise in rank; that on service the very lives even of men are entrusted to their keeping; that at all times the prospects and happiness, comfort and welfare of the men under their commands are in their hands, it is at once evident how great is their responsibility, and how serious become the every-day duties and acts of an officer. in civil life a citizen, unless occupying a public position, has the responsibility only of his own family. he has to do his duty by probably half-a-dozen children, to educate and teach these, and to see them started in life. the officer has on his shoulders the responsibility of a soldier and an officer added to that of his duties as a citizen. he has to instruct, guide, and punish the soldier. he is a despot in a way; his word is law, and the prospects of a man may be ruined or made by an officer. such being the condition of a soldier's life, it is of importance that the early career of an officer--the period of his life when he receives impressions which he never forgets-should be under the most careful and thoughtful discipline. the impressions received in our youth are never entirely forgotten; and though individuality of character may force itself prominently forward through a covering of education, still such instances are invariably tinged by education and training. thus, the discipline and teaching of cadets becomes a matter of the gravest importance when we value the effects thereof on an army. the character and conduct of an officer make themselves felt in a regiment, and even beyond the mere limits of a regiment, for the effects of influence are untold. man is to a great extent an imitative animal, and when young he is much disposed to be a mere follower of others. he has his tastes, his likes and dislikes; but these are in the generality of cases due more to example than to any natural tendency in the individual to a particular line of pursuits. the importance, then, of instilling into the cadet those principles which are necessary to make the army a safe one cannot be overlooked; and we will therefore refer to the conditions prevailing at the time we write of, and compare them with those now in force at the same institution. in former times a cadet could be punished by a corporal to the extent of a day's arrest to his room, which entailed turning out to morning drill. if the corporal chose, he might order a cadet out to drill merely, without placing him in arrest. this punishment was given usually on account of unsteadiness in the ranks or in the class-rooms, for not being brushed clean on parade, or for any minor offence, according to the fancy of the corporal. this gave enormous powers to the corporals, and was one of the great strongholds of the fagging and bullying systems. a cadet's life might be made a burthen to him by his being placed in arrest day after day offences which were "trumped-up" by a corporal. two drills daring a week stopped a cadet's leave, and if this occurred he of course had to remain at the academy during saturday and sunday. instances have taken place where a young cadet committed some offence against the then well-established but unwritten laws of fagging, and thus drew down on himself the odium of the old cadets, who agreed on every possible occasion to place this cadet in arrest. there was no difficulty about carrying out this persecution. a corporal on duty in the class-rooms was absolute; he could place any cadet in arrest for talking, for leaving his desk, for looking round, for making a noise, etc, etc, and one or other of these offences could without difficulty be fixed on any particular individual. it was not till near the end of the half-year that it was discovered that one particular cadet had been placed in arrest by corporals on duty on an average four times a week from the commencement of the half-year. for graver offences than those usually punished by the cadets holding the rank of corporal, the sentence might be arrest from three to seven days, confinement to the enclosure for any length of time, stoppage of leave, twenty-four or forty-eight hours in the "black hole," as it was termed--a dark room, similar to a modern prison cell--rustication for a term, discharge from the academy, or dismissal. the latter sentence was given only in very bad cases, as the cadet's name was then registered, and he could never enter the army. there was one cadet selected by the governor as a senior under-officer. to him was entrusted the command of the cadets when no officer was present, and he was a sort of "go-between," a kind of bat among men, a link between the officers and the cadets, to whom considerable responsibility attached. this senior under-officer was not necessarily the senior in the class. he was taken by selection, and sometimes great mistakes were made in taking an indifferent man when a better was available. this is, of course, the risk in all cases of selection, even when authorities are most anxious to be just, and to select the best man. if, however, so disastrous an element as favouritism should ever in the future creep into the army, and should thrive and prevail under the cloak of selecting men by merit, it will be more disastrous to discipline, more ruinous to the tenacity, as we may term it, of the army, than all the bribery or corruption that the most subtle enemy could bring to bear on the weak or vacillating. to be superseded in any way is, of course, annoying to every man. when it was money that enabled one man to go over the head of another, the supersession was accounted for. it was unpleasant, but the one man possessing money where the other did not was to a certain extent acceptable. if, however, a man, whom we feel to be our inferior, and whom our comrades know to be inferior, is selected, and placed over our head, and we are told that he is so elevated because he is a more clever man and a better soldier than we are, the selection by merit becomes one of the most dangerous and offensive elements in an army. an amusing case of selection by supposed merit once came under my notice when a cadet. there was one prize which was given according to the judgment of the instructor, and not by the result of any examination. it was a supposed selection by merit. there was a cadet whom we will term a, who was well acquainted with the subject for which the prize was given previous to his joining the academy. another cadet, b, knew nothing about this subject, and found great difficulty in working it. a and b were friends, so they worked together--that is, a did the work, and b copied from him. at the end of the term the instructor, who was supposed to have daily seen each cadet's work, examined the whole, and allotted the prize to b, and omitted all notice of a. strange to say, some years afterwards, b was appointed to a lucrative post in consequence of having been distinguished as a cadet for his knowledge of the subject for which the prize was given, whilst a remained unknown and unrecognised, but soured and disgusted by an injustice which it was impossible to remedy without exposing his friend, and certainly damaging him. the senior under-officer, however, in those days was selected, and was given considerable influence in consequence of his position. it was therefore considered a matter of great importance to be selected as the senior, and to have such a position of responsibility entrusted to one. corporals were selected from amongst the cadets almost entirely in consequence of their position in the academy--in fact, by seniority. if the conduct of a cadet had been bad, he was passed over; but such passing over was considered very severe, and was seldom done. the principal punisher of the cadets was the captain of the cadet company, who investigated and tried cases that occurred during any part of the time that cadets were not in study. if any cadet committed a very grave offence he was then brought before the governor, and received the heaviest punishment. for offences committed in academy, or during hours of study, cadets were amenable to two other authorities, viz, the inspector and assistant-inspector, who used to visit the class-rooms each day, and see that all was going on as it should go. there was in this system the great defect that the cadets were under several authorities, and not under one head, while the system of entrusting to corporals the power to inflict punishment on their juniors, without inquiry or without comment, opened the door to a system of tyranny that was too often practised with the worst effects. another drawback at that time was the great age of the majority of the professors and senior officers. to deal with young, energetic men, such as the greater number of the senior cadets were, required active and energetic men with judgment and discernment, and thus appointments to posts such as those referred to should not have been allotted merely as quiet sinecures, but should have been given to men capable of real work. in such a military college as woolwich a strict discipline is absolutely necessary. the first lesson to teach a soldier is the importance of subordination and obedience. these essentials, it is true, were taught formerly, but there was too often favouritism shown, which made the cadets feel that the scales of justice were often unfairly weighted. to once allow any sign of a want of proper respect for authority to pass over with a light punishment is to sow the seeds of a most dangerous condition. another necessary item in the training of the cadet is to instil into him a high sense of honour; to teach him that there are certain things which his position as a soldier renders it impossible for him to do without disgrace. at the academy there seems to have ever been this conscientious feeling, even at times when the discipline and general tone of the establishment was not what it is now. a cadet who was placed in arrest was bound on honour not to break this arrest, and it was often amusing to see two or three cadets in different rooms with their doors open talking to one another and leaning out of the doorways just so far that their centre of gravity was within the room. if one cadet added "honour" to any statement he might make to another, it was always considered certain that this was true. considering that the course of education at the academy rarely occupied more than three years, and that many cadets had their characters entirely formed whilst they were at the "shop," it is evident that too much importance cannot be given to the training bestowed during this period. a military training college which is not maintained with the strictest discipline becomes a mere pandemonium, where young men soon endeavour to rival one another in acts of folly, and from which men are turned out unfit for command or for the service. the defects formerly existing at woolwich have been remedied; the almost irresponsible authority of the older cadets over the juniors does not now exist. the professors, instead of being octogenarians, are men in the prime of life, and are given the authority over the cadets which their position entitles them to; and the result is that with an active, intelligent, and distinguished soldier at the head, the royal military academy at the present time may be fairly claimed as a model establishment. chapter twelve. my failure at examination. my second half-year passed slowly, though it did not drag its slow length along as had my first half. i fagged for snipson every morning, and was thus treated much as was a last-joined. in my own room and division i was scarcely fagged at all, and as forester and fenton used to talk to me, i enjoyed their society, especially after roll-call, when i knew snipson could not send for me on some pretence or other. more than once forester had asked me how i was getting on in academy, and seemed interested as to my prospect of passing my probationary examination. this also was a question about which i was anxious, for, unless i passed a satisfactory examination, i might be sent away from the academy just in the same manner as if i had failed at my first examination. during my first half i had decidedly gone back; the pressure that had been used to prepare for entrance seemed to have tired me mentally, and the perpetual anxiety of being fagged and bullied seemed to paralyse my mind, so that i could learn little or nothing. it was much the same during my second half, although my nights were quieter; but i felt a sort of disinclination to commence work--a feeling i have since learnt is the great drawback to progress in anything. men mean to begin doing something at some future period; some day they will set to work and do this or learn that; they will give up this or that bad habit, or begin to learn this or that important subject; but the to-morrow on which they are going to begin never comes, for they drive off from day to day until it is too late, and they go to their graves with very good intentions, and meaning to have done something, but they never did it. i drove off regularly working until within a few days of the examinations, and when i tried to learn various formulas i found that my mind seemed out of condition and unable to retain a recollection of what my eyes had seen. it was some time after this that i discovered what seemed to me a new faculty of my mind--that was a capacity of shutting off, as it were, all external matters, and bringing my thoughts to bear on some problem which, with closed eyes or daring the darkness of night, i tried to work out. my first experience of this faculty was in connexion with a game of chess. forester had been trying to solve a problem of "checkmate in three moves," and i had been looking on. he had failed to solve the problem when the lights were taken away. as i lay in bed thinking over this problem, i pictured to myself the chess-board and men, and i then imagined a move of the knight, which had not been tried before. the new position of the men i seemed to see plainly. now and then the picture appeared to fade from my imagination, and it was an effort to reproduce it. i, however, managed to do so, and in a short time moved another piece. i went over three moves again and again, and at length was certain i had found out the solution. forester was asleep, so i said nothing; but as soon as i awoke in the morning i took the chess-board, arranged the men, and found that i had solved the problem, and could checkmate in the required number of moves. on informing forester of this he was much amused, and seemed to think it a very remarkable performance on my part. having thus employed my mind on a problem, i tried to make various moves for the openings at chess, and found that by practice i could develop this faculty, and could make seven or eight moves on each side and remember the position of the men. it is impossible to describe the pleasure this sort of mental exercise gave me, for as long as i lay awake i could work out chess-moves; and as the efforts seemed to tire me, i often fell asleep in the midst of some complicated series of moves. the results of this proceeding did not then dawn upon me, for i was but a boy after all, and had really to learn how to think and how to use my brain. the examinations came with their usual regularity, and the questions were unlucky for me. that there should be any luck in examinations may strike some readers as impossible; but those who have had any experience know how much luck there is, and that it is not always a sure test of the relative knowledge of individuals to judge by the results of their examination. when i say that the questions were unlucky, i mean that it appeared as if those particular questions had been selected which referred to problems i had not studied. as an example:--on one occasion i saw the mathematical master looking at a book and copying something from it. i saw the page was 210. on returning to my seat, i told the cadet next me that i had seen this, and that we should probably be required to work out the formula on page 210. "perhaps it may be the formula on page 211," said my neighbour. "we will toss up, and see which it is--heads 210, tails 211." it came heads, so we in joke said we knew it would be this formula. i must own i had so little faith in what i had asserted that i learnt only superficially problem page 210, and doubt whether i could have worked it out. when, however, the examination questions were given out, i saw a very large number of marks were allotted to the problem on page 211, and this problem i had not worked up. after the examination, however, the cadet next me told me he had learnt both problems well, and expected full marks for this question. now, perhaps i ought to have done the same, and learnt both problems, but i had devoted my time to some twenty others, all of which i knew well, and not one of which were asked. it has often occurred to me that a different system of examination might be adopted to that now practised, in order to avoid this luck, and also to find out the extent of the knowledge of an individual on any subject. at present a series of questions are asked, these being some ten or twelve in number, and they are supposed to take in every branch of the subject. the individual examined answers these, and these answers are limited to the questions or inquiries made. the amount of knowledge which any one may possess _beyond_ the questions put is not ascertained, and thus the full extent of one person's knowledge may have been reached by the questions, and only half the knowledge of another person who may have done at the examination exactly the same. to draw out the knowledge of a person at an examination, the safest way is to give far more questions in a paper than it is possible the best man can in the time answer; then by the amount of work done a fairer estimate can be formed of the relative knowledge of individuals than if only six or seven questions are given, and where, consequently, luck has a great deal to do with the results. i was certain i had done badly in mathematics at the examination, and this was the subject that counted most; but i was not aware how badly i had done till the result of the examination was made known, when i found i was last but one, and had gained only four in the subject. now that i believed it was too late i was ready to stamp with rage at my folly in not having worked harder. i felt i had in me certain powers which had not been yet fully called out. it seemed that i was again sinking back into the condition i occupied at hostler's, and i was looked on by my own batch as very stupid. the examination i had failed to pass was, i understood, my probationary, and that therefore i should now be sent away from the academy. it turned out, however, that because i had not joined with the remainder of my batch, and had thus been absent several weeks, i was allowed another chance and given another half-year's trial at the academy. i was sent for to the inspector's office and briefly informed of this fact in a dry, official manner, an intimation being added that unless i worked very hard i was not likely to remain beyond the next term as a cadet at the royal military academy. i was determined that next term i would work hard and try to recover my position, and it being my third half-year i expected i should not have any fagging, and consequently should have plenty of time for working out of study hours. forester had passed his examination well and was fourth of his batch, and would next half be down in the arsenal with what was termed the "practical class." this practical class learnt all the practical work connected with field works, military bridges, military surveying, etc, and were distinguished from the other cadets by wearing epaulettes with bullion about an inch long. the practical class rarely came to the upper academy, their barracks being down in the arsenal. once a month for muster, however, they were marched up to the academy and were the envy and admiration of the younger cadets. snipson had failed to qualify for the practical class, and would therefore remain one more half-year at the academy, when he would have to leave if he did not then pass into the practical class. on my return home i had to break the intelligence to my father that i had been unsuccessful at my examination, but should have another chance for my probationary. he took the news very quietly, and told me he thought that, with the amount of fagging and bullying that was going on, it was wonderful how any cadets managed to pass their examinations at all. during my vacation i used to regularly work every morning before breakfast at mathematics, and at night i tried to work out various problems in geometry just in the same manner as i had solved chess puzzles, and i found i could manage this performance very well. i thus established a sort of test for myself; for if i could in my mind work through a problem, i was certain i knew it, and if i could not, i soon found out where i broke down. i used to practise also raising _x + y_ to various powers without opening my eyes thus: (_x + y_) to the power of six and (_x+y_) to the power of eight, and so on. i found that the practice of doing this gave me a sort of extra power, and i could soon multiply any two figures by two figures in my head and obtain correct results. from commencing such experiments as the best means for qualifying myself for future examinations, i gradually grew to like the work, and in a short time preferred working out some equation or geometrical problem to reading a dull book. after-experience taught me that a man never does anything so well as that for which he has a liking, and as a rule we dislike those things which we know little or nothing of, or which we do badly. we grow to like any subject very often by learning it, and gradually gaining efficiency in it, and we thus are often impelled to proceed until we are surprised, on comparing with others, to find how much we have learnt in a certain time. my vacation passed very quickly, for i was happy at home, and having always some work on hand, i was never thoroughly idle, nor did i ever experience that most disagreeable of states, etc, "how ever was i to pass the time?" on rejoining the academy for my third half-year, i felt very much more at my ease than i had done on the former occasions. i expected that i should have no fagging, and should do very much as i liked. there were two old cadets in my room, the head being a corporal named woodville, and the second a cadet named jamieson, who was only one half my senior. they were both very nice fellows, and woodville was celebrated as a runner for long distances, he having run a mile in four minutes and fifty seconds. i had grown very much during the past year, and had improved altogether in health and strength, and found also that i could run better than when i had won my hundred and twenty yards' race. i was still supposed to be the best short distance runner at the shop, though there were one or two who were almost equal to me. upon the last-joined cadets coming to the academy, which they did the day after the rest of us had joined, they had all to pass through nearly the same ordeal that i had. hats were smashed on entering the hall, and several new plots were started to make the cadets sharp. one of the favourite tricks to play on a last-joined was to fill one of the tin basins with water, to open the door about afoot, and place the basin on the top of the door, then to call a neux from outside, and tell him to come to the room. the neux, of course, pushed open the door and let the basin fall on his head or back, he getting a good ducking. this invention was very popular for some time, but all the last-joined soon heard of it, and became cautious, and either entered the doorway without opening the door any wider than it was at the time it supported the basin, or they pushed the door open from a distance. another amusement, which also was soon worn out, was to heat the poker, and then rest it against the handle of the door till the handle got quite hot, then to shut the door and watch from the window for cadets to pass. as soon as a last-joined could be seen, he was told to come round to the room, and naturally he took hold of the handle to open the door. the cadets on the inside of the door held fast, so that the door could not be opened. the result was that the victim burnt his hand, for at first he could not tell the handle was hot, and, never suspecting such a thing, probably fancied that the handle was very cold instead of being as it was, very hot. any way, nearly every cadet burnt his hand who came to the door, and this was considered an excellent joke by the cadets in the room. at that time bullying was at its height at the academy, and i heard of various things being done which amounted to the grossest cruelty. one of these was nearly causing the death of a cadet, and exposed to the authorities to what an extent cruelty was carried. an old cadet used to amuse himself by placing a stool upside down on the top of another stool. he then made a cadet climb onto the top of the second stool, and stand balanced on two legs of the stool. when the cadet was thus standing balancing himself, the old cadet kicked away the under stool, and brought the neux down heavily on the top of the stools. this proceeding was much admired by snipson, who was again in the towers, and occupying his old room, and i heard that a cadet had been much hurt by falling on the upturned leg of one of the stools, on which he had been made to stand by snipson. the cadet had to be taken to hospital, and was considered for some time in danger. during the time this cadet was in hospital, snipson ceased his practices of bullying, and was so very civil to the neux that was hurt that he succeeded in obtaining from him a promise that the authorities should not know by what means he had become hurt. this matter was generally known among the cadets, but so bad a feeling was then prevalent at the academy that snipson was not condemned by the other cadets, nor did the practice referred to at all decrease. it happened that at the dinner-squad to which i belonged there was a corporal who was a very quiet, steady fellow, and who disliked bullying. the subject of snipson's neux having been injured was mentioned at the squad, and i was asked if i had not once been snipson's fag. i replied that i had, and that he was one of the greatest bullies in the academy. it happened that this remark of mine came by some means to be retailed to snipson, and led to an affair which must be described in detail. two or three days after the conversation at the dinner-squad, snipson called me as we came out from morning study, and told me to go to his room after parade. to be told to go to an old cadet's room was usually understood to mean that a thrashing was to be administered for some cause or other. i could not recall anything i had done, for i had entirely forgotten the remark i had made at the dinner-table, and i fancied that snipson might want to fag me for something in order to show he could fag a third-half cadet. when i was broken off drill i went to snipson's room in the towers, where i found snipson standing by his window. on my entering the room he said,--"shut the door and turn the key!" i did so, and then saw that snipson looked pale with rage, and that something unpleasant was in store for me. the room in which we were was not more than about ten feet square; the window, like all others at the academy, was guarded by iron cross-bars, and the furniture of the room consisted of two stools, a small table, a fender and poker, and a bed. snipson was at that time nearly two years and a half my senior, and was much taller and stouter than i was. he had, however, an awkward way about him, and was not given to any muscle-developing games, such as cricket, football, or rackets. as soon as i had locked the door snipson said,-"look here, shepard; you are a young blackguard, and i'm going to lick you! what do you mean by telling lies about me?" "i have told no lies about you," i said. "you told the fellows at your squad that i was one of the greatest bullies at the shop, so it's no use your telling another lie to save yourself a licking?" i was taken aback at this remark, for i now remembered what i had said at the dinner-table about his being a bully. i could not, however, see how this remark could be turned into a lie, for there was no doubt about the fact of snipson being one of the greatest bullies at the academy; but i did not know how to argue so as to own to having called him a bully, and yet to show i was not guilty of falsehood. "you see you're caught?" said snipson; "so now just put one of those stools on the other!" i hesitated a moment, and said,--"i remember saying you were a bully, but i didn't think you would mind that, and i don't call that a lie." "ah, now you acknowledge saying what you before denied! that's three lies you've told since you have been here! now, get onto the top of that uppermost stool?" so great had been the influence of the authority of old-cadetism on me that i obeyed snipson's orders, and with some difficulty climbed to the top of the stool. in an instant snipson kicked over the lower stool, and i fell heavily on my side from a height of about five feet, the leg of the stool striking me on the shin. before i could recover myself, and when the pain from the blow i had received was gradually spreading, as it were, over my whole body, snipson, who was grinning maliciously, said,-"put the stools in order and up again! look sharp!" he shouted, as i hesitated to obey. "i won't get up again?" i said. "i may be injured seriously." "then take that!" said snipson, as he struck me with his clenched fist on the side of the head. in an instant all fear of old cadets, of fagging, of corporals, and of trials by the seniors left me; and i remembered only snipson's repeated acts of cruelty to me when i first joined, his general sneering and self-sufficient manner, and his sneaking conduct relative to the neux he had so seriously injured by the very same proceeding that he was now practising on me. these thoughts flashed, as it were, over my mind like an electric message along a wire, and before snipson could repeat his blow i caught him a fair shoulder-hit at a well-judged distance, and knocked him completely off his legs against his bed. if i had been given time to reflect after striking this blow, i should probably have taken any licking snipson might have given me quietly; but i was not given time, for he jumped up and exclaimed,-"i'll half kill you for that!" and rushed at me, trying to close with me. i believed that from his greater size and weight i should soon have got the worst of a close encounter, so i did not give him a chance of doing so, but met him with a right and left, which were delivered with all the force i had gained in hitting under howard's instruction, and driven by the additional energy derived from my long endurance of bullying. snipson went down again like a nine-pin, and i now knew i could thrash him in fair fight; but i did not then know how great a coward he was, and how malicious he could be; but i soon found out my danger. instead of getting up at once and again rushing at me, snipson lay for a few seconds where he had fallen, and looked round the room. suddenly he sprang up and made a dash at the fireplace, and seized the poker. he turned towards me, and i saw from his look that my life was in danger. "now it's my turn?" he hissed, as he came round the table towards me, the poker held ready to strike. in such positions as mine then was there sometimes comes to us a bright idea, which answers the purpose at the time, but which, when thought of in cooler moments, seems most unlikely to have been of any use, as it could be so easily seen through. the conditions, however, of excitement often induce a state quite unfit for calm reasoning, and most unexpected results are then produced which appear afterwards to be absurd. as snipson was coming towards me, with his poker ready to strike me, his back was towards the door, which, as i said before, was locked, and by which consequently no one could enter. i, however, looked over snipson's shoulder, and said, "hullo, woodville! you are just in time." snipson instantly turned his head to see whether any one was there, and at the same moment i sprang on him, seized the wrist that held the poker, and, throwing my right arm round his neck, tripped him up, when we both fell on the floor, i being uppermost. in the struggle the poker had fallen out of snipson's hand, and i instantly gained possession of it, and, jumping on my feet, stood over snipson, who now did not attempt to rise, but in a half-conciliatory, half-threatening tone, said, "now you'd better mind what you are about, for the old cadets will give you an awful licking for this!" "if you tell the old cadets that i hit you," i said, "i'll go straight to the governor, and tell him it was you who injured your neux, and nearly killed him, and i'll report that you tried to hit me with a poker." saying this, i unlocked the door and rushed out of the room, and went to my own, which i luckily found empty. i closed the door and sat down to consider what i had better do. i had heard that, shortly before i joined the academy, a neux had struck an old cadet, and had in consequence been tried by a sort of court-martial by the old cadets, and had been severely thrashed. not content with this, the body corporate of the old cadets had ordered that no neux should speak to the culprit, and, in addition, he was daily placed in arrest and turned out to drill. the neux could not stand this ordeal, and ran away from the academy to his friends. an inquiry into the matter afterwards took place, but a case of cruelty could not be brought home to any particular individual, and the cadet's friends not having any interest, the affair was dropped. i anticipated that some such treatment would be meted out to me, for, in spite of snipson's proceedings, i knew that the offence of striking an old cadet was looked on as so heinous, that no extenuating circumstances would be allowed to outweigh the crime. my threat to report snipson i did not intend to carry out, but made it with the hope that it would prevent him from telling the old cadets that i had knocked him down. after some minutes' consideration i went off to d'arcy's room to tell him all about the fight, and consult as to what should be done. when i described to d'arcy how i had knocked snipson down, and had escaped his attack on me with the poker, he was delighted. he told me also that the old cadets detested snipson, and he did not believe they would back him up if he told them what i had done. "i'll bet any money," said d'arcy, "that unless snipson goes at once now he is in a rage, and tells some of the seniors, he won't say a word about it." "why not?" i inquired. "well, because he knows for your own sake that you won't say anything, and he would probably be ashamed to own that a fellow so much smaller than he is gave him a licking. i'd advise you to keep quiet, and don't tell anybody else." when we went into dinner i saw snipson, who showed no signs of the recent set-to; he took no notice of me, and i could tell that as yet he had made no mention to the old cadets of my performance. the day also passed, and the next, without anything occurring, and i began to think snipson meant to keep quiet; but on the following morning, after breakfast, fenton, on returning to our room, said, "so snipson gave you a thrashing the other day?" i was so taken aback by this remark that i said, "who told you so?" "snipson did," replied fenton. "he said you had been cheeky about him, and he had you over and licked you. he said you seemed disposed to show fight, but he soon took that out of you." i listened with amazement at this speech of fenton's; it was my first experience of the gross misrepresentation of facts which was possible when only two people were present, and i was astonished and amused at the absurdity of the report. it was my first experience of the wilful perversion of truth possible when two persons were together without witnesses. i wish it had been my last. there will probably be many among the readers of this book who have themselves had similar experiences, for, if they have not, their career must have been singularly limited and lucky. there are men--ay, and women too--who from an inability to represent facts correctly, or from interested motives, or from vanity, will misrepresent occurrencies and make out that black was white, and yes, no. there are men and women whom it is dangerous to speak to or be with without witnesses, and we believe that when all secrets are revealed it will be found that more perjury has been committed in connexion with _tete-a-tete_ interviews than with any other event in life, from the days of joseph to the present time. during the day d'arcy came to me, and laughed immensely as he told me that snipson had told the old cadets what a licking he had given me. "he said you tried to escape from the room, but he locked the door and just polished you off. you are quite certain," said d'arcy, "that everything occurred as you told me?" "quite," i replied, "and snipson is a liar!" "i believe you," replied d'arcy; "but you had better keep quiet, and you will now escape being thrashed by the old cadets, which is no joke, i can tell you." i followed d'arcy's advice, and did not even deny that i had been thrashed by snipson, although i could not help adding, on one or two occasions, that "i should not mind such a licking being repeated." this was my last adventure with snipson, who had been a thorn in my side since my first joining the academy. as, however, it was not the last that i knew of his career, i may here mention what i knew of his future, and then expunge his name from these pages. before the end of the half-year snipson was found drunk by the officer on duty. as he had been nearly four years at the academy, and had but little chance of qualifying, it was intimated to his friends that they had better withdraw him from the academy. following this hint, snipson suddenly disappeared, and his name was soon forgotten where it had once been a terror to all last-joined. twenty years after the events related in this book i was walking down oxford street when i saw coming towards me a man with a seedy, threadbare frock-coat, the arms of which were much too short for the wearer, and the collar of which came too high. the coat had evidently previously graced the form of another wearer, and when its youthful beauties had faded had become the property of its present owner. a portion of shirt was visible, and plainly indicated that it had been far too long absent from the washerwoman. a hat bent and without gloss surmounted a red face, with eyes somewhat like those of a crying child, and a beard of about four days' growth. brown trowsers, creased and frayed, stained and patched, hung over a pair of split, misshapen shoes, and completed the attire of a man whose type is now and then seen in london. something about the man at once attracted me, and i thus noted his appearance. the face, though altered, and indicating the effect of drink, i yet recognised; and as the man walked past me and turned his head so as to avoid showing me his face, i knew this wretched failure of a man was my once bully, snipson. he had failed as a cadet and he had failed as a man; and from his appearance it was evident he had not done what some men do, who in their young days have failed, etc, begin again at the bottom of the ladder, and by steady work endeavour to recover, themselves; but he was always scheming to recover himself by one grand coup, and was always being disappointed. i turned round quickly after i had passed snipson, and saw him peeping at me from a shop-door. when he caught my eye he turned and walked on with an air and style that showed he had not yet suffered enough to make him sensible of his own defects, nor was he yet in a state deserving of sympathy. one of the singular and yet universal peculiarities in the character of such men as snipson is, that they assert, and evidently believe, that their unfortunate state is in no manner due to any fault or failing of their own. they can always assure you that if this man had not done so-and-so, or that man had not failed them in the most unexpected way, they would have been all right. they are themselves never wrong; they don't ever admit a mistake; they are convinced of their own cleverness, and satisfied with their own knowledge. former companions who have "got on" in life they speak of as "lucky beggars," and have usually something to say in disparagement of such men, as a sort of attempt to drag down the successful to their own low level. they rarely, if ever, admit any merit or skill in others, and attribute all that others may win, by hard work and thought, to "luck," and all their own failures to "bad luck." this was snipson's state twenty years after he was a bully--idle and untruthful as a gentleman cadet. chapter thirteen. our row at the races. during this my third half-year there were some races by the officers on woolwich common, to which the cadets were given leave to go, and a tent was provided for us, in which we had some light refreshment, such as beer and bread and cheese. now between what is usually termed the "louts" and the schoolboys in any good school in any part of england there seems a natural antagonism, and fights not unusually take place, brought on as much by the insult of the lout as by the natural pugnaciousness of the english well-bred boy. in former times at woolwich this feeling of antagonism was by no means extinct, for as the cadets marched down the common to the arsenal, or out in the country, it was generally found that a number of louts would assemble and hoot them, mewing like cats and calling out "puss"--the term cadet being probably assumed by the unwashed to be an extension of "cat." to english boys such proceedings were most offensive and irritating, and more than once the louts had experienced somewhat rough treatment at the hands of cadets whom they had hooted and mocked in the manner described, and once or twice there had been kind of rough-and-tumble fights on the common between the louts and the cadets. on the evening after the races, several cadets were in their tent and were laughing and talking, when some louts assembled outside, and commenced imitating the laughter and then calling, "puss! puss!" such a challenge was not long in being accepted by the cadets, who suddenly dashed out of the tent and charged about twenty louts, who were assembled within a dozen yards of us. on the party of cadets rushing out (of which i was one) the louts took to their heels, but their clumsy efforts to run were useless, and we soon closed with them, when they turned and showed fight. i soon found myself engaged with a heavy-fisted big youth, who had as much idea of fighting as an ox, but who was heavy and strong. i had plenty to do to guard his blows, and shortly sent him sprawling, when two other louts came on me at once. i dodged and struck for some time, but should soon have got the worst of the fight if d'arcy had not come to my aid, when the two bolted, as had most of the others. seeing the enemy in full retreat we gave up the pursuit and returned to our tent, and had just commenced to pack up the things we had used, when some stones were hurled at the tent, and some came in by the door. on looking out we saw that, instead of twenty louts who had at first appeared, there were now above a hundred, some of them being full-grown men. they were shouting at us, and mewing, and calling on us to come out. as there were not two dozen cadets in our tent, it was decided that i, being a fast runner, should run to the cadets' barracks and call for reinforcements. this was a service of some danger, for we were almost surrounded by the enemy; but it was agreed upon to threaten a charge in the front of the tent, and when the enemy assembled there to resist us, i was to creep under the canvas and make a dash to the lodge. the plan succeeded very well. all the louts gathered in front of our tent, and i had crept out and was on my legs and well away before i was seen; then, however, there was a yell, and shouts of "catch him?" "stop him!" whilst about a dozen men and boys gave chase to me. the distance from the tent to the lodge was about 300 yards, and as i had about thirty yards' start of my pursuers, i knew that i could easily win my race and reach the lodge, provided it had been a matter of fair running; but the shouts of my pursuers attracted the attention of some other louts who were between me and the lodge, and who i saw were trying to intercept me. i made straight at them, however, and, when close, charged at the biggest. as i expected, he gave way and tried to trip me up. by giving a jump i avoided his leg, continued my course, and entered the academy grounds in safety. the news that there was a row had spread over the academy, and fifty or sixty cadets were already provided with sticks or belts, and had assembled at the back of the academy, ready to go to the rescue. i joined these, and we all immediately started to the rescue, and arrived only just in time, for the louts, finding they were about ten to one, had got very plucky, and were going to pull the tent down. we charged down on the enemy, who, seeing our numbers were nearly equal to their own, turned and ran. we gave chase, and, overtaking some of them, administered a good thrashing. by this time a body of police had come on the scene, and seeming to think it their duty to protect the louts, at once seized two or three of the smallest cadets, and were going to carry them off, when "to the rescue!" was shouted, and we charged on the police. the peelers drew their truncheons and used them freely, but we were too many for them, and succeeded in recovering the prisoners. not wishing to have a row with the police, who, we considered, ought to have protected us, we retreated rapidly to the enclosure of the academy, and dispersed to our various rooms. in about ten minutes after our entrance a check-roll was called by the officer on duty, and we were all confined to barracks in consequence of the row. it happened that the senior under-officer had been in the tent from the first commencement of the row, and on entering the academy he had at once reported to the officer on duty what had happened, and had told him the provocation had been given by the louts. he also said that we could scarcely avoid doing what we had done. shortly after we had entered the grounds an inspector of police, who had received from his men their account of the row, came to the officer on duty and said several of his men had been seriously hurt, and that they wished for an opportunity of recognising the ringleaders of the party. to give this opportunity, a parade of the whole cadet company was ordered for the following morning at half-past eleven. we were none of us aware of the importance of the row till we saw in the papers of the following morning a paragraph headed: "disgraceful riot at woolwich by the gentlemen cadets!" we then read how the cadets had been drinking in a tent, and had suddenly commenced an unprovoked attack on some boys and women, had pelted them with stones, and had then assaulted and seriously injured the police who had endeavoured to protect the people. "it was hoped," the article continued, "that the cadets would receive such punishment as their disgraceful conduct deserved." we were all very angry at this paragraph in the papers, because we knew how much the outside public is led by such statements, and as they had no means of judging of the truth of the report, they would probably believe what was asserted. on the following morning, at half-past eleven, the whole of the cadets fell in on parade, and with them, and scattered here and there, were twenty-five cadets of the practical class, all of whom had been in study at the arsenal during the row. the police assembled on the right of the line, and slowly examined each cadet, with a view to swearing to his identity. the first cadet selected was one of the practical class, who had a slightly black eye, which he had received from a blow by a racket-ball. he was fallen out, and took his station on the right of the line. two other cadets, who had been well in the thick of the fight, were next picked out, then another cadet of the practical class. altogether, twenty-five cadets were picked out as ringleaders, and sworn to individually by the police as those who had struck them and had taken part in the row. we all now saw the plot that our captain had laid for the police. he suspected they were trying to make out a case against us, and so sprinkled the practical class among the others. the police, having declared that they recognised each of the cadets selected as those who had struck them, had committed themselves, for if they had made such a mistake in identity in five cases, which could be proved, it cast doubt upon the evidence in other cases, which were of a doubtful nature. we were all confined to barracks for a week after this row, and were daily expecting some cadets would be discharged, but finally it ended in the police withdrawing their charge, in consequence, as we heard, of their mistakes relative to the practical class having become known to them. chapter fourteen. i pass my examination well. during this my third half-year i had been steadily working in academy, and every night when in bed, and when the room was quiet and dark, i used to think over and try to work out various problems that i had done daring the day. i found that by concentrating my thoughts on these subjects i impressed them on my mind, and on the following morning could work them out very easily on paper. i found that by this means i could do many problems that had formerly seemed so complicated, that i had failed over and over again, and i hoped that i should find the benefit of this process by-and-by. woodville more than once had told me that i ought to work hard, as this was my last chance for my probationary; but he was not aware that when he was asleep i was training my brain _to think_, which, after all, is the great object of all learning or teaching. in our public schools and colleges we give too much attention to what is called "learning" different subjects, this "learning" being, in the majority of cases, merely cramming our minds with the facts discovered and the conclusions arrived at by those who have preceded us, and who have written what they knew. we rarely endeavour even to so cultivate the mind as to make it competent to judge of the merits of a novelty, for this calls for a mental exertion that few persons ever attempt. it is far easier to accept what is submitted to us without question than it is to investigate and think out a case which no one has previously thought out, and on which consequently we have no guide which we can follow. the system of cramming for examinations which was prevalent in former times, and has become even more common in the present day, is, we believe, far more detrimental to the mind than it is beneficial. also we believe that calm reasoning is not certain to be brought out by such examinations as are usually given to students, so that, after all, the power of intellect is, we believe, not likely to be accurately tested by a mere examination. i stood last but one in my batch--a fact due to my having done so very badly in mathematics and geometry at the last two examinations. in drawing i was very good, but this subject counted very little compared to the two in which i was very bad, so that what i needed was more knowledge of mathematics. time passed on very rapidly and very pleasantly. now that snipson had left the academy i had no one ever to fag for or to fear; and it seemed that his departure had been the signal for the commencement of a better tone among the cadets. there was, i heard from the last-joined, less bullying than there had been whilst snipson was present, and altogether his departure was hailed with pleasure. the examinations commenced, and i screwed myself up to the mark to see whether i was to pass my probationary and remain at the academy, or be sent away to seek some other career in life. we had three days for our examination in mathematics and geometry, and i was most careful over my work, reading over my questions deliberately and slowly, and thinking them out before putting pen to paper. as i sat for some time with my eyes shut, trying to recall a somewhat lengthy formula in trigonometry, the examiner saw me, and, supposing i was asleep, called out, "mr shepard, you had better wake up and attend to your paper; you cannot afford to sleep!" i was not much pleased at this remark, for there is always in the mind of all those who are examined an impression that examiners may be prejudiced, and may not allot marks fairly. such an idea is a very pleasant one to those who fail at an examination, and who thus satisfy their vanity by trying to believe that they deserved well, but were marked badly because the examiner was unfair. i fancied that, because i was supposed to be asleep, especial sharpness would be used in marking me--an idea i have since had reason to know was utterly erroneous, for the academy was, of all places, the most rigid as regards the fairness with which marks were allotted, and the greatest impartiality was shown by those in whose hands the marking was left. after each examination-attendance, i looked over the paper out of academy, and compared my answers and working with the book, and i came to the conclusion that i had done remarkably well, and therefore hoped i should be safe to get a satisfactory return for my probationary. i waited with the greatest anxiety for the result of the examination to be made known, and could scarcely sleep at night for thinking what i should say at home in case i were span. it would, i knew, annoy my father very much, and i should be considered very stupid by probably far more stupid people than i was. at length the morning came when the result of our mathematical examination was to be made known, and i went into academy with a feeling of dogged determination not to show any sign, no matter what the result might be. i fancied that the result would be satisfactory, as far as i was concerned, because, had it been unfavourable, i should have been sent for to the inspector's office, and told to pack up and be off. we all took our seats and were ready with pencil and paper to copy off the marks as they were read out. the names of the cadets were read out in the order in which they had passed, so that as each name came the excitement as to who would be the next was very great. i was thirty-eighth in the class, out of thirty-nine, but i hoped i should take some places and probably reach to about twenty-fifth of the class, and next half (if i remained at the academy) i hoped to get on better. as the examiner read out the first name there was no surprise; the cadet who was first was a very good mathematician, who at sixteen had joined the academy, knowing trigonometry, mechanics, projectiles, and the calculus; he had been pushed on in consequence of his knowledge, and we knew he was almost certain to be first. the second, third, fourth, and fifth cadets were also very good mathematicians, and were known to be tolerably certain of standing high. when the examiner said "sixth," he waited for some seconds, whilst we listened attentively, and he then repeated "sixth, mr shepard--235 marks, decimal 87." at this announcement all the cadets looked round at me with surprise; it was almost assumed that, judging from my former examinations, i should have great difficulty in passing at all, that is in getting half-marks; when, then, i suddenly shot out from last but one to sixth, and gained so high a decimal as 87, it was like an outsider almost winning the derby. there were one or two surprises and several disappointments as the result of the examination was read out, and some cadets did not hesitate to proclaim that it was "a chowse." i was quite satisfied, and was glad to find that i had not overrated what i had done at the examination. i little suspected then that my success was likely to place me in a very unpleasant position, which was, perhaps, due in a measure to another cause which i must here relate. it happened that, during the half-year, i was one morning in study when a cadet in the first row, who used to be generally up to some trick, called my name during the time the corporal on duty was absent. i looked up from my drawing and immediately a ball of bread, made out of the crumb of a roll, was thrown at me. i caught the ball and instantly threw it back, but just as the ball was leaving my hand the door opened and the inspector appeared. the cadet at whom i had thrown the ball failed to catch it, and the ball struck the door within a foot of the inspector's head. i was immediately placed in arrest, and the next day was taken before the governor charged with throwing a ball at the inspector. luckily the cadet who had thrown the ball to me was available as evidence, and our defence was that we had used the bread to clean our drawings, and had thrown it to one another instead of carrying it from one part of the class-room to another. this defence cleared me in the governor's mind from the charge of throwing at the inspector, but i got seven days' arrest for creating a disturbance in academy. the fact of my having suddenly come out as a good mathematician, when hitherto i had shown only as a muff, was a surprise to every one, even to the master himself; but i was completely taken aback when i was sent for to the inspector's office, and told that there was a strong suspicion against me of having fudged at my examination. i indignantly denied the charge, and said that in consequence of its being my probationary examination i had worked very hard to pass, and had quite expected to get a good decimal. "we have already ascertained," said the inspector, "that you have not worked in your room, you rarely studied out of academy, and the examiner found you asleep during examination, so that it seems impossible you could by fair means obtain .8, which you have done." "it is very hard on me," i replied, "to be accused of fudging, when i give you my word of honour i have not fudged, merely because i have done well." "we will give you the benefit of the doubt, mr shepard," said the inspector, with anything but a pleasant manner, and i left his office feeling that in his own mind he was confirmed i had fudged--the how or the means by which i had done so alone preventing him from proceeding with his charge. among the cadets of my class i was considered a martyr, for they accounted for my success by attributing it to "luck in the questions." to me, however, the result was most important. first, it rendered my position at the academy secure; and, secondly, it showed me that the system i had adopted for gaining a knowledge of mathematics and geometry was a sound one, and that i had a sort of key for the cultivation of the intellect. i now looked forward to my academy career with hope and pleasure, and a feeling of ambition came upon me which is, perhaps, one of the greatest incentives to work that can be given to a young man. when i joined the academy i was a boy and felt like a boy, but the rough handling that i had gone through, and the experience i had gained during the eighteen months i had been at the academy, had aged me beyond my years. i had also grown considerably, and looked older than i was, several persons putting me down as eighteen or nineteen years old, whereas i was not much past seventeen. -----------------------------------------------------------------------i returned home from the academy for my vacation with much pleasure. i looked forward to the quiet rambles in the forest, the collecting specimens of natural history, and the general peaceful nature of the life there, as a pleasant change after woolwich. i also felt some pride in going home after so successful an examination, for it was successful even for the academy. i thought of the satisfaction i should have in meeting howard and in telling him of the past half-year's events. i plotted many amusements for the vacation, but determined to devote a certain amount of time to mathematics and gaining some knowledge of the subjects i should have to study next half. i was beginning conic sections in the third half-year, and this subject i found was one that i could manage very well by thinking quietly over. i could, in imagination, make my section of the cone and get my co-ordinates very easily without pencil or paper; and more than once i hit off laws that i imagined at first were real discoveries, but i soon found out other men had long since discovered them. this fact, however, showed me that i was on the right road, and that the training of my mind must be going on satisfactorily. of all the schemes that i had proposed to carry out during the half-year not one had led in the least to prepare me for an event which for a considerable time produced much effect upon me. i was much given to long rambles in the forest, and would often take a seat in some retired glen and dream the idle hours away. as i was sitting thus one day i heard some voices near me--one that of a female. i jumped up, surprised at so unusual a sound, for i was out of the regular beat of picnics, and then heard an altercation going on, evidently between a female and an unruly boy. moving through the furze outside the glade i came suddenly on a young lady, who was trying to pull back a boy of about ten years old. the young lady was fair, and of middle height, and to me seemed quite lovely. she was dressed in a light summer dress, a straw hat, with a wreath of natural ivy round it, and a light-blue scarf. as i came near she said, "walter, you stupid boy, i know it's a viper, and it will sting you to death!" "you donkey!" replied the youth, as he struggled to get free, "it's only a common snake, and i want it to take to school next half." these remarks fully explained to me the cause of the dispute between the youth and the lady; and as the question was one of importance i at once jumped forward, and there saw a full-grown vicious-looking viper on the ground close to the boy. in an instant i struck it with my stick, and broke its back, and said, "i tell you what, youngster, before you call people donkeys you ought to know something about what you are talking of. that thing is a viper, and if you had touched it you would have been poisoned by its bite, and probably would have died." "oh, but i thought it was only a snake!" said the youth, with that air of unmistakable self-satisfaction which at once indicates the unlicked cub. "i told you it was a viper, walter," said the young lady in a conciliatory tone. "oh, but you know nothing about it," replied the youth. "the young lady knew better than you," i said, "and you ought to be much obliged to her for having probably saved your life, instead of being as cheeky as you are. if you were my young brother, i'd soon teach you manners!" the boy looked at me with an air of surprise, but seemed indisposed to make any reply, whilst the young lady thanked me for having killed the viper. "you don't remember me, mr shepard?" she then said; "i was quite a little girl when we last met, about five years ago, and i have only just returned from brussels, where i was at school. i was staying with my uncle, general holloway, near ringwood, when you came over to fish." i then remembered that, during a short visit to general holloway's, there was a pretty little girl staying at the house, who used to play and sing very well. i was very bashful at the time, and for the first day or two did not get on with her; but after that we became great friends. "surely you are not helen stanley," i said, "who used to sing to me at general holloway's?" "yes, i am," she replied, "but i have grown very much since then, and so have you. i've heard so much of you, and of your success at woolwich. what a splendid thing it must be to pass examinations, and to be a soldier too!" "rather hard work, though," i replied. "no one knows till they have tried it what there is to go through." "oh, but see how much it does for a young man! why, see the young men about here how awkward they are, how clumsily they walk and stand; they are quite different from a soldier. i'm so glad to have met you; and it's lucky for walter's sake i did so, or the viper would have stung him." helen stanley was at this time about eighteen; but she was older in manner and style than she was in years. it is useless to attempt to describe to the reader a person who attracts us, or who wields an influence over us--the mere detail description of complexion, colour of hair, and of eyes, shape of mouth and nose, giving to a third person no more idea of the individual than if we said nothing. i can only speak, then, of miss stanley as a young lady who to me seemed very pretty-whose hand it was a pleasure to touch on meeting--whose society was a pleasure, and who seemed to call up in me all the better parts of my nature. i had not been five minutes talking to her before i knew that she was one who would produce an influence on me in the future. "how does it happen that you are here?" i inquired. "our carriage is in the road beyond, and aunt is there. i got out to walk with walter, and to try and get some fern-roots. come and see aunt; she wants to see you, and you have never come over to call." i strolled on with miss stanley and her young brother, whom i now saw looking at me with staring eyes and evident admiration. a gentleman cadet was in his eyes "somebody," and he already seemed to regret his rudeness at our first meeting. a forest path led us out into the road, and we soon reached the carriage in which mrs holloway, or, as the country people styled her, "mrs general holloway," was reclining, enjoying the view before her. "aunt," said miss stanley, "whom do you think i've found in the forest?" mrs holloway looked with an air of surprise, and i fancied of displeasure, at seeing me walking with her niece. "i cannot imagine," she replied. "perhaps you had better introduce this gentleman to me." "oh! aunt, can't you guess? i thought you would know him at once! i did." mrs holloway looked at me for a few seconds, and shook her head, indicating her want of recognition. "why, don't you remember mr shepard?" said miss stanley. mrs holloway looked at me with a surprised air, then, holding out her hand, said, "what! is it possible that little bob shepard has in two years grown up to be you? what a splendid thing drill and going out in the world is for a boy! i should not have known you, bob, or mr shepard--i ought to say gentleman cadet shepard, perhaps. i've heard all about you, though--how you passed examinations that every one said you couldn't pass, and how you have just succeeded at your last examination. your friends must be very proud of you. but why have you not been over to see us?" "i have only been home a few days," i replied, "and have not been anywhere yet." "you must come over and stay with us a few days," said mrs holloway. "helen has no one to accompany her in her rides besides the groom, and she will be glad, i know, of your society; so we will let you know when to come. can we drive you anywhere?" "no, thank you," i replied. "i am going home through the forest." "good-bye, then, and don't forget we shall expect you soon." "good-bye!" the carriage drove off. i waved my hand, and then stood looking after the carriage--a new sphere in my life being thus opened to me. i walked on through winding paths that led towards my home, thinking of the curious meeting with miss stanley, and of how charming she looked, and how pleasing her manner was. i had never before been much in young ladies' society, for previous to my going to hostler's school i avoided girls, as i considered them a nuisance, and they made a practice of laughing at me because i was shy and very small. three years, however, make a great difference in one's views, especially when those three years come when we are fifteen years of age. at eighteen i was not the same person i was at fifteen. and now, as i walked home, i speculated on how long it would be before i was asked to the general's, and should have an opportunity of again seeing helen stanley. on my arrival home i was surprised to find that my aunt and sisters did not seem to appreciate miss stanley. she was "stuck up," they said, and gave herself airs, because she had been to school abroad; but it was generally agreed that i should accept the invitation, as the general was a man of considerable influence. "you must mind you don't fall in love with helen!" said one of my sisters. "she is an awful flirt." "that's not likely," i replied, with an assurance that i by no means felt, for i found my mind running on little else than the remarks made by miss stanley, and her image seemed always before me as i saw her when she reminded me of our former meeting. each day i now looked anxiously for a letter from the heronry, as general holloway's house was called, and on the third after my interview with miss stanley a formal invitation came, asking me to stay a week at the heronry, and asking if i could come on the following afternoon. the invitation was, of course, accepted, and on the following afternoon i arrived at the general's, where i was received very kindly by my host and hostess, and by the fair helen. there are few things more flattering to a youth at the doubtful age at which i was, than to be treated as a man by a handsome girl. helen stanley never once in any way indicated that she thought me "young," or anything but a man. i was "mr shepard" to her, and whether she meant to flatter me, or whether it was merely the natural agreeableness of her manner, i cannot say, but she had the knack of causing me to think better of myself than i had formerly done. she reminded me how quickly and successfully i had prepared for the academy, and she compared my success with the failures of some other candidates for woolwich whom she had known. more than once she had said how she envied me for being a man with such a splendid career before me in the army, either in the artillery or engineers, and that she was certain i should distinguish myself in the future. it is not in the nature of man, especially of a very young one, or of woman either, to reason or criticise very closely the truth or foundation of flattery. we stretch many points to make us ready to believe there are grounds for what is said. i had been so unjustly abused by snipson when his neux, that the conceit had been too much taken out of me, and i had lost too much of that self-possession which we all ought to possess in order to make way in the world. the flattery of miss stanley, therefore, came on me with all the charm of novelty, and as i thought over what she had said, i felt bound to acknowledge that praise was due to me for the manner in which i had passed through my hard trials at hostler's, had succeeded at my examinations, and stood the bullying of my first half-year at the academy. any way, it was most agreeable to be in the society of a young lady who seemed to think i deserved to be praised and commended for what i had done. the first few days of my visit at the heronry passed like a dream. i was as happy as a bird, but was fast drifting into love with helen. she, however, seemed a very wise young lady, who could talk with me, sing with me, flirt with me, but apparently not be in love with me. i had myself made all sorts of desperate resolves. i should get my commission, distinguish myself in some way, and then propose for helen. the details of our future life i had not worked out, nor did i consider that i had not calculated the future beyond the period at which i should be twenty-one. although the time passed rapidly and agreeably, yet i knew i had learnt much in the first three days i was at the heronry. i had begun a new study, etc, the investigation of the peculiarities and inconsistencies of the feminine mind. at breakfast, on the fourth morning of my visit, helen stanley announced to the general that charles would arrive that afternoon. i looked up surprised at this remark, for i had never heard of a "charles," and did not know whom he was. seeing my look of curiosity, miss stanley said, "charles is my cousin. he is at oxford, and is coming here for a few days. he is very clever, i hear; so you two will get on well together, i hope." i instantly felt certain that cousin charles and i should not get on well together, and i was most anxious to discover, if possible, whether there was any other relationship between helen and cousin charles besides that of cousinship. miss stanley, however, gave me no clue, and seemed to avoid being alone with me during the morning, so that i had no opportunity of learning anything except that cousin charles was at oxford and very clever. at the expected time cousin charles, whose surname i ascertained was also stanley, arrived at the heronry. i saw him get out of the vehicle he had driven in, and approach the house. from the experience i had gained of men during the past two years i could judge tolerably well of what a young man was by his appearance, and the instant i saw charles stanley i concluded that he was "a conceited prig." i entered the drawing-room soon after his arrival, and was introduced to him as gentleman cadet shepard. stanley nearly closed his eyes as he looked at me for half a minute, and then held out two fingers to me to shake. i just touched his hand and then turned towards the window and looked out on the view, whilst i was estimating in my own mind the value and worthlessness of mr charles stanley. it was soon evident to me that stanley was on very intimate terms with his cousin helen, also that he admired her very much. i also became conscious that he was not favourably impressed with me, and i made up my mind that we should certainly not get on well during our visit. at dinner that evening stanley fired his first shot at me, and it certainly hit its mark, for i was made to look very small whilst he aired his knowledge before helen stanley. i happened to mention that i had seen a hawk hovering over the poultry-yard in the afternoon, and i thought it possible that some young chicken might be carried off. "by hawk," said stanley, "do you mean the `tinnunculus alaudarius' or the `accipiter nisus'?" "i mean what we call here the kestrel," i replied. stanley put his glass in his eye and looked at me, and said, "dear me! i was told you were a very clever naturalist." "i don't think natural history consists in giving long names to animals," i said, "but in knowing their habits." "indeed?" said stanley. "but i am afraid you don't learn much classics at woolwich." "none after we enter," i replied. "we then learn only useful things, and don't cram our heads with pedantic knowledge." "i'm very sorry to see the youngsters of the present day so radical in their ideas," said stanley, addressing the general. "there is no training for a gentleman equal to a thorough classical education." "i don't agree with you," said the general. "of course you oxford men think there's nothing like leather, but i would sooner have my son know french and german well, than greek and latin, and the latter would be more practically useful to him than the former; and as to a mathematical education, it is essential in the present day. i fancy that your great classics are usually men who live more in the past than for the present or future, and that won't do now." "a man who is not a good classic is always making himself ridiculous because he is sure to make a false quantity, and his ignorance is seen by others." "ah, that's a sort of pedantry," replied the general, "which is what i set my face against. your classic belongs to a large school, and prides himself immensely on his knowledge. he only values men according to what he finds they know of classics. now, this is a mistake. you will find that horse-jockeys and stablemen do the same. if you make a remark to a horsey man, showing you are not up in horse slang, he at once sets you down as a muff, for he has only one standard of excellence, viz, knowledge of horses, just as you have of classics. just now you took it out of shepard there about the latin names of hawks, and then you seemed to think that knowing these names made a naturalist. this i don't agree to. now, i'd back shepard to tell quicker than you a summer from a winter cage when he saw one." "i think i could tell that," replied stanley. "how?" inquired the general. "well, the winter cage ought to be warmer and hung on the sunny side of the house, and perhaps covered with something to keep the cold wind out." a shout of laughter from the general, in which both i and miss stanley joined, interrupted stanley in his remarks. he looked annoyed and surprised, and seemed waiting for an explanation. "there!" said the general, "you have done worse than make a false quantity; you have shown you know nothing of what i meant. you must know that `a cage' means in the forest a squirrel's nest, and that the squirrel makes a summer and a winter cage--one of sticks, the other of moss." we had several other little "passages of arms" during dinner, much, i fancied, to the amusement of helen stanley, who seemed to enjoy seeing her cousin taken down a little. on the following morning a ride was proposed to see one of the largest beech-trees in the forest, which was in eyeworth wood. the party consisted of my youngest sister, miss stanley, stanley, and myself. we had scarcely mounted our horses before i saw that stanley was a very indifferent rider. he tried his best to conceal the fact, but it was of no use. the pony he was riding was a well-bred forest pony, strong, and high spirited. the animal seemed (as horses soon do) to have discovered that his rider was an indifferent horseman, and began to play various tricks, much to the discomfiture of stanley, who kept his seat with difficulty. i could see that stanley was fast losing his temper, and when his cousin told him to keep his hands lower, and not to jerk the pony's mouth, he seemed to be ready to quarrel with any one. "i see what you mean," stanley replied, looking at me. "these forest brutes require riding more in the butcher-boy style." "yes," i said, "that's the way--more like a butcher-boy and less like a tailor!" i thought stanley would have hit me with his whip. he raised it, and probably would have done so; but his pony, seeing the whip raised, bounded off, and deposited stanley on his back on the turf. we saw he was not hurt, so out attention was turned to catching his pony, which we soon succeeded in doing, when he mounted again and safely accomplished the remainder of his ride. miss stanley was nearly the whole time by my side, and i found myself more and more charmed with her. i was flattered by her manner, and felt that there would be great satisfaction in gaining her approval in my future career at woolwich. "i shall always look out for your name in the papers," she said, "to see when you get any prizes. i saw your name in the _times_ as having passed when i was at brussels, and i was so glad." "i am not likely to get any prizes," i replied, "except my commission; that will be a good prize." "oh, you are certain to get some if you try for them! why, see how well you have done already. i am certain if young men had some one to back them up, and give them encouragement, there would not be so many failures as there are. i think there is nothing so charming as an intellectual, clever man!" i did not know what to reply to this remark, for i was not only very young but very inexperienced at that time, and was not aware of a fact which i believe experience has since taught me, viz, that _young_ ladies usually like a man who is not intellectual, but who can talk any amount of what is termed nonsense, whilst it is usually middle-aged ladies who seek after intellect and prefer the society of those who possess it. a week passed at general holloway's like a dream, and it came to an end as suddenly, as the general was taken seriously ill, and we all had to leave. before i left i had confessed to helen stanley that i was desperately in love with her, and that i should never be happy without her; but to my utter discomfiture she informed me that she was engaged to her cousin, and had been so from a child, though she did not care for him one bit. i believed fully when i heard this that i should never be happy again, and that i should wander about one of those "blighted beings" that one hears and reads of, and occasionally sees, who have been disappointed in love, and who never recover from it; but i am happy to say that, though for many days i felt terribly desolate, and seemed to live without a purpose, yet before i had been a week at the academy i had begun to laugh at my own folly in having fallen in love in less than a week with miss helen stanley. chapter fifteen. life as an old cadet. there is scarcely a more marked difference between the condition of a master and a slave than there was thirty years ago between the state of an old cadet and a neux. on joining the academy at my fourth half i became an old cadet, and possessed all the rights and privileges of my exalted position. i had now full liberty to wear my chin-strap up, to go out without straps to my trousers, to fag any last-joined or second-half cadet, and, in fact, to do very much as i liked. i was second in my room, the head of the room being a corporal one batch senior to me; the third of the room was a second-half cadet, and the fourth a last-joined. it was now my turn to send for various last-joined cadets, and call upon them to sing songs, make odes to the moon, and speeches in favour of fagging; and i must own that there was very great delight in exercising this authority. among the last-joined in my division were two of hostler's boys, who were considerably more advanced than i was when i was at school with them. now, however, there was a great gulf between us, and i found it necessary to let them know it, for their education had been very much neglected, as they actually gave me a familiar nod and said, "how do, shepard?" when they first met me at the academy, they being in plain clothes and last-joined, i in uniform and an old cadet. although i followed the usual routine of fagging the neuxes on every possible occasion, i strictly avoided what i had considered cruelty when i was myself a neux; so that such amusements as angles of 45 degrees, flipping round tables, climbing stools, etc, i set my face against, and endeavoured to discourage in others. i made up my mind to work this half-year very hard, and to try and prove to all my friends that i had some brains and could pass examinations well. there was a prize given for mathematics in the class in which i was; but this was almost certain to fall to the cadet who was first in my class the last half-year. i, however, hoped to hold my position of sixth in mathematics, if not to take some places, and thus to show that it was neither by fudging nor by a fluke that i had passed so well at the last examination. i had now every opportunity for working; i was not worried by fears of being fagged or disturbed in any way, and could be as quiet as i liked in my room. when a neux got rather forward and seemed likely to pass an old cadet, there was immediately a pressure brought to bear on the junior to prevent him from working. i had not been forward enough in my first or second half to be a dangerous competitor, so i never was warned to leave off "swatting," but others had been. in the same class with me there were no cadets more than one half junior to me, so there was no reason to bring the "old cadet" influence to bear, even had i thought such a proceeding right, which i did not, so we all worked on our merits. perhaps, as far as exciting incidents happened, my fourth half-year was the most barren of all. the routine through which i had passed had caused me to thoroughly enjoy what would otherwise probably never have been looked upon as an enjoyment. to go to bed and know that i could go to sleep with no risk of being disturbed for the purpose of going to some room to sing, or make speeches, was in itself a luxury, and i believe in afterlife there are few people who so thoroughly enjoy themselves as those who in their younger days have had to rough it on service or in savage or uncivilised countries. sitting, as we are at present, in a snug room, the windows rattling and the house actually shaking with the south-east gale blowing, we feel the greatest satisfaction in comparing our present condition with that of some years ago, when we were tossing about in the bay of biscay in a leaky vessel, short of water and provisions. as we hear the rain dash against our windows at night, and remember that our roof is waterproof, we feel a singular pleasure in thinking what a comfort it is not being in our old bell-tent in the far south, through which the rain would come like a sieve, and which sometimes required us to go out in the rain and slacken the peg-lines, in order to prevent their contraction by wet from pulling up the pegs and dropping the wet tent on us. by comparisons we to a great extent learn to appreciate and enjoy, and the comparison between my position during my first, and fourth half-year, as a cadet was such as to make me thoroughly enjoy my life. there was much in those days that cadets had to complain of, but which defects have since been remedied. formerly any cadet seen smoking was liable to discharge. if a cadet were seen to enter a billiard-room he would stand a fair chance of being rusticated. trifling offences were also not unfrequently treated as most grievous crimes, and favouritism, that fatal enemy to all discipline, to all true energy, and to all satisfaction with the service, was not unknown at the academy. as an example of the severe punishment sometimes inflicted formerly for apparently light offences, a cadet, head of a room, had not reported the second of his room for marking his cupboard by means of a needle arrow blown from a tube. the cupboard of course was marked and slightly damaged, and the head of the room was given seven days' arrest for neglect in not reporting the case. there was in those days a sort of struggle going on between the cadets and the authorities, relative to cadets being put on their honour to own to certain offences committed by them, and which there was no evidence on which to convict them other than their own confession. the cadets were advocates for the system of honour, which may be explained by the following case:-on the common there was a house which had on its gates some grotesque figures in stone. these figures attracted the attention of the cadets, who periodically used to remove them, and place them on another gate. when the parade was formed the officer on duty used to call, "fall out the gentlemen who removed the figures from the house on the common!" and instantly the culprits would fall out, and would receive a much lighter punishment than if they had been discovered without their own confession. this system worked very well until it became whispered among the cadets that one of the non-commissioned officers attached to the academy used to practise a system of espionage, and used to watch cadets into a certain public-house on shooter's hill, where they used to assemble to smoke and talk of an afternoon. this fact became known, and instantly the cadets, by universal opinion, agreed that this was a breach of faith on the part of the authorities, and consequently they refused any longer to be "on honour." for a time there was a sort of strike between the cadets and the authorities, during which some amusing adventures occurred. in our division there was an old cadet who had been a corporal, but had been reduced for having what was called a "grog party" in his room. this cadet decided to have another party after roll-call, and to bar out the officer on duty, in case he tried to enter the division. to accomplish this, the cadet procured several powerful screws, and actually screwed up the door between the officers' quarters and the division. we all agreed "on honour" not to reveal who the cadet was who performed the deed, and waited in expectation of the event. at about half-past ten we had all assembled in the room of the cadet named, and were very jolly singing, when the neux who had been put on watch over the door reported that the officer was trying to enter. immediately we all took off our boots, and went to our rooms and got into bed with wonderful rapidity, for we anticipated what would follow. the officer, failing to enter by the side door, soon came round to the front, which we had not attempted to secure, and entering the room of the cadet who had entertained us, asked him what he meant by making such a disturbance, and who it was who had fastened up the door. the cadet looked much surprised, and said he had heard the noise, but could not tell where it was; and that he could not tell anything about the door being fastened. each of our rooms was visited, but we were all in bed and shammed being asleep, and pretended we knew nothing of the noise that had taken place. on the following morning there was no response to the request of the officer on duty, that the gentleman would fall out who had nailed up the door communicating with the officers' quarters. the consequence was that the whole division were confined to the enclosure, with the threat that they would be so confined until the cadet who had screwed up the door came forward. a consultation was now held among the seniors, and it was agreed to appeal, as there was no proof that the act was committed by any cadet actually belonging to the division, the time at which the screwing was performed was not known, and if it was done before roll-call it might easily be done by any cadet of another division. these probabilities having been brought forward and represented, the authorities released the cadets of our division, and we flattered ourselves we had gained a victory. some time after this event, the same cadet put in practice a very bold scheme, which was not discovered during the term. his room was on the ground-floor, and the window, like all others, was guarded by cross-bars, arranged diamond-shape. the cadet was very small and thin, and he had found that he could, by removing one entire cross of iron, open four of the diamond patterns. having procured a file made out of a watch-spring, he sawed the iron bars in two; secured them temporarily with putty, so that they did not show unless closely examined; then removing these after roll-call, he squeezed himself through, and was at liberty. according to his own account, he had wonderful adventures of a night, as he on one occasion pretended to be a highwayman, on another a ghost; but the wonderful part of the affair was, that he was never found out, and it was not till six months afterwards that it was discovered the iron bars had been sawn and were held together only by putty. it was, i believe, a fact that, just at this time, there was less real bullying than there used to be when i first joined; any way, i saw less of it. a healthier tone also seemed to prevail at the academy--a condition i attributed to a certain extent to the departure of snipson, and one or two other similar characters--for it is surprising the influence produced in a large establishment by one or two bad style of men. we had started a pack of beagles, and used to run a drag, and now and then turn out a hare, or rabbit, for a hunt. this brought running and athletic exercises into popular favour, and i soon took a most prominent position at the academy as a runner and boxer. it is often amusing to look back upon the cause of disputes or quarrels, and to see how absurd they are after all, and how out of the merest trifles gigantic events are produced, the original cause of which is not unfrequently forgotten. there was a cadet named baldock, who was older and bigger than i was, and who was very proud of his skill as a boxer. he was supposed to be the best pugilist at the academy, and thirty years ago using one's fists well was looked upon in a very different light from what it now is. more than once baldock and i had put on the gloves and had a friendly spar, and i was tolerably certain i was the better boxer of the two--thanks to howard's training. no one, however, seemed to be aware of this, not even baldock, because i had always touched him very lightly when i could have hit him hard, and he had consequently no evidence of my capacity as a hitter. one friday evening we were boxing, when one of the cadets commenced chaffing him, and telling him he was getting two hits for one; this caused him to lose his temper, and, getting a chance, he struck me a tremendous blow fair on the forehead. i was nearly knocked over by this, but recovered myself, and, after a dodge or two, got equally as fair a hit at baldock. for three or four minutes we--struck away at each other in earnest; baldock then said, "it's lucky for you we've gloves on." "i don't think so," i replied; "i'd sooner have them off." in less than a minute our gloves were off and a ring was formed, seconds appointed, and we set to work deliberately to fight, for no other reason than to try who was the best man. i had almost instantly decided what course to adopt in the encounter. baldock was bigger and i believed stronger than i was, and was a good boxer; but i, from always running, especially with the beagles, was in the best condition. i was also quicker and more active on my legs than he was, and had great confidence in my hitting power. i at once found i had a great advantage in baldock underrating me, for in the first round he tried to finish me off at once, and i consequently caught him three or four sharp hits without his once breaking through my guard or getting a blow home. this evidently annoyed him, and he did not use his head as well as he might have done. his advantages, therefore, were to some extent lost, and i certainly got the best of the first two rounds. after this baldock got more steady, and we fought on like two prizefighters for nearly three quarters of an hour, when the cadets round interfered and stopped us, victory having failed to declare on either side. we shook hands at the termination of the affair, and, as is not unusually the case, became the best of friends--so much so that in less than a fortnight afterwards baldock was my assistant in a row, in which we were enabled to acquit ourselves creditably. baldock and i were walking one afternoon from eltham, through the fields by shooter's hill wood, when we came to a stile on which two "louts," as we termed them, were sitting. on our coming near them they did not attempt to move, but sat grinning at us. "why don't you get off that stile," said baldock, "when you see people coming?" "you can get through the 'edge as you're a cat," said one of them, "we ain't a going to move for you!" in an instant baldock seized one of the louts by the legs and tumbled him backwards over the stile; he then jumped over, and i followed him; but as i did so i received a blow on the back of the head from a stone thrown by the lout on the stile. i was nearly stunned by the blow, but, recovering myself, called to baldock to come back and thrash them. we both turned and walked towards the two men, who shouted, "come on! we ain't afraid of you!" they certainly looked as if they were not afraid, and as if they ought not to be, for they were half as big again as we were, and in their rough clothes and great hob-nailed boots looked even bigger. the affair was a splendid example of skill and training _versus_ brute force. the two louts had probably never before encountered opponents who were skilled in the use of their fists, and they merely swung their fists round without meaning. the consequence was, that in about seven minutes the louts were half blind, their noses were bleeding, and they were telling us they had had enough. "take care how you insult gentlemen cadets again," said baldock, "for there are fifty cadets who can thrash us with one hand!" this was his farewell remark as we doubled off without a scratch or touch, except on our knuckles, from the blows we had given. "i think," said baldock, "that cram of mine about the cadets will make the louts careful; and i tell you what, shepard, i'd a deuced deal rather have you alongside of me in a fight than against me. how splendidly you dodged that fellow's round blows, and gave it him straight between the eyes! you'll be as good a boxer as howard, who used to be so famed at the shop." "howard taught me how to box," i said. "the deuce he did! ah, then, i don't mind having fought you for an hour without making much impression on you. i never knew that before. howard has a tremendous reputation, and i believe deserves it." the half-year was now drawing to a close, and we were all thinking about the examinations. i adopted the same plan that i had formerly, and used to work very hard in academy, and of a night used to think over various problems and test what i actually knew. the head of my room never saw me working out of study hours, and fancied i was not going in to do much; and with him one of the six cadets ahead of me used to work of an evening, whilst i used to read books of sporting or travels. when all was quiet, however, i used to think over various questions, and felt tolerably certain i knew these better than if i had superficially gone over them with another cadet. i was much amused at the general idea that i should go back again near the bottom of the class, as it was not likely i should fluke again, as it was supposed i had last examination. i, however, waited my time, and determined to be very careful at the examination, and not be too sure i had done a question correctly until i had read it over a second time. the mathematical examination at length commenced in my class, and i was surprised to find the cadet absent whom every one thought would be first. i soon heard that he was taken ill the evening before, and had gone to hospital, every one believing he had worked too hard, as he was known to have kept up lights for several nights previous to the examination. i read over the examination paper, and believed i could do each question. i commenced them in order, and arranged my work very carefully and neatly, and before half the attendance was over i had finished them all. i then carefully read over each of my answers, and corrected some errors that i discovered in the working, and in fact re-did the questions that were wrong. i never took my attention once off my paper after commencing, and at length, when satisfied i had done all i knew, i found i had still an hour to spare. i then took a look round the room, and saw the inspector in the octagon talking to the mathematical master, and looking at me. i felt certain i was the subject of conversation, and i instantly remembered the suspicion there had been of my having fudged last half. i also saw that the desks had been arranged so that near me were the worst mathematicians in the class, so that, even had it been possible for me to see their work, i could not have gained advantage from it. i saw also that some of the cadets who had beaten me last examination were in difficulties. there is no mistaking this at an examination; there was the usual red-flushed face, the unsettled positions, the biting of nails, the perpetual dipping of the pen in the ink, and yet writing nothing, indicating that there was a fix somewhere. seeing the inspector still in the octagon, i took up my paper, and gave it the master, who asked me if i had done all the questions. "i think i have," i replied. "very well, then, you may leave the room," said the inspector. i went out and had a game of rackets to take away the heady feeling i had about me; then went and read the papers, and did not look at a book before going in for my afternoon examination. again i set to work in the same deliberate way, and found that i could, as i believe, do all the questions. the examination in mathematics lasted two days, and i believed i had done far better than at my last trial; but there is always great uncertainty as regards what one has really accomplished, mistakes being made which we never dream of, and usually fail to discover if we read over our own answers, even half a dozen times. the examination in other subjects, such as fortifications, geometrical drawing, french, german, etc, i did well in, but as mathematics counted most, i hoped for much out of that. it was usual formerly to continue studies after the examinations, and we therefore sometimes managed to obtain information from the masters as to how we had done. believing i might gain some information, i made an excuse for asking the master how i had done, or if he knew yet how any one had done. i saw a pleasant expression in the mathematician's face, who said, "in the first two papers you are several marks ahead of anybody. have you done as well in the others?" "i think i have," i replied. "i'm very glad of it, as i told the inspector i believed you would come out well." this information i kept to myself, and waited patiently for the whole examination to be made known, though i could not help being amused at hearing many of the cadets below me speaking of it as a certainty that they were sure to take my place, as i had not worked at all. the morning at length arrived when the marks were to be read out, and we all rushed into academy and waited with great anxiety to hear the result of the examination. the master took the paper in his hand very deliberately, put on his spectacles, and said, "silence, gentlemen, if you please, and i will read out the marks for the mathematical examination." we were all as quiet as mice, and waited, pencil in hand, for the news. the master then said, "first"--and after waiting half a minute, as though to increase our curiosity, repeated--"first, mr shepard; decimal 78. second, mr hackland; decimal 75. third, mr bowden; decimal 8"-and so on. when my name was read out as first i could scarcely forbear a smile. i knew it was a total surprise to the whole class, and to me it was unexpected, for i never hoped to get higher than third or fourth; and on finding myself first, i would not at the time have changed places with a lord. helen stanley came to my mind, and i thought what she would say when she heard i was first, and saw my name in the paper as having gained the second mathematical prize. i lost interest in the reading out of the marks after the first half dozen names had been given. the cadet who stood third had what we called "a shorter coarse" than i had, and was lower than i was, because he gained less marks, though he had done slightly better than i had in his shorter subjects, gaining decimal 8 in what he had done. he was a cadet who had joined three months after me, and who had come to the academy knowing enough mathematics to pass him through without any further trouble, his father having been a cambridge wrangler, who had taught him algebra about the same time he taught him his letters. after the reading out of the marks i was congratulated by several cadets, whilst surprise was expressed as to how i had done so well, when, as was supposed, i had never worked out of academy. in reality, i believe i had worked my brain more than any other cadet in the class, and to this was mainly due my success, for i had developed a power of independent and intense thought, which made thinking easy, and enabled me to solve problems which a superficial or unthinking system of working never would have enabled me to solve. for several days after the examination i felt very happy, little dreaming that a disappointment was in store for me, for the fact of being first in an examination had on all previous occasions secured the mathematical prize. i believed i should not have been first had not the best man been compelled to go to hospital; but this i looked on as the fortune of war, like a horse breaking down in its training. just before the public examination, however, i learnt that i was not to receive the prize, but that it was to be given to bowden, who was third, the reason assigned being that he was junior to me in joining the academy, and had gained a higher decimal than i had. this was my first disappointment and my first experience of what i at least believed to be injustice. during the half-year i had passed bowden, and during the previous half-year i had come from nearly last of the class to within two places of him. these facts made me feel half angry, half disappointed, and produced on me a sort of irritation that nearly induced me to become insubordinate, for i could not help fancying that favouritism had something to do with the selection. i, however, made no appeal, and took the matter as patiently as i could. it seemed now tolerably certain that the next half-year i should qualify for my commission, and might hope to be in the first four or five of my batch--a position that i never hoped to attain after i had been three months at the academy, and which seemed impossible when i was straggling to cram at mr hostler's academy. the next half-year i should become a corporal, and should be one of the seniors, and should, consequently, have far more authority than i possessed as an old cadet only. it would be my last also at the academy, for on joining the practical class we were removed to the arsenal, and there occupied so exalted a rank that we did not mix much with cadets at the upper academy, as it was termed, in consequence of its standing on higher ground than the cadet barracks at the arsenal. i must confess that when i saw bowden called from his seat at the public examination, and given the second prize for mathematics, which was delivered to him by a handsome old officer, i felt that if our merits had been fairly weighed i ought to have received the prize; but probably, had i received it, his feelings might have been similar. it is hard to be treated with injustice, but we are all inclined to fancy more or less that our merits are never fully acknowledged, and when certain men are selected for honours, while we are left out in the cold, that our claims were greater than theirs, and that we are victims to favouritism or want of perception in those who ought to have seen our value. although i did well in other branches of study, i stood no chance of gaining a prize in anything except mathematics. in drawing i was good, but there were several cadets much better, whom i was not likely to pass or excel. just before the vacation i received an invitation from howard to pass a week with him in london, where he was staying on leave. such a chance was not to be refused, so on leaving the academy i went to town and found howard in lodgings not far from his club. he was very glad to see me, and congratulated me on my success at the academy, and gave it as his opinion that i had been "chowsed" out of the prize for mathematics. during the week i passed with howard in london, i, for the first time, had a taste of what london life was like. out of the six evenings i was twice at the opera, once at the haymarket theatre, once at a ball, to which howard took me, once at a bachelors' gathering at evans's, and the remaining night at howard's club. for a week this kind of life, from its novelty, was pleasant, but i made up my mind that it was a mistake, and that the quiet of the forest was healthier and better both for mind and body. we visited the row in the morning and the park in the afternoon, and saw certainly some of the most beautiful women in the world, for, no matter where we may travel or what nations we may visit, we come back and see in old england that her daughters are unrivalled. as i sauntered on with howard through the crowd i wondered how helen stanley would compare with some of the beauties i saw, and, as often happens to us when we think of a person, whom should i suddenly meet but the lady about whom i was thinking. the instant i saw her i knew there was something about her--i could not say what--which made her look different from those near her. she was natural and rather plainly dressed, and not what is, we believe, technically called "made up." there was no paint or powder, false hair, or strengthened eyebrows, and she therefore seemed like a looker-on on the boards of a theatre where all the others were dressed up to act parts. she was only in town for a short time, and hoped to be down at the heronry before my vacation was over. "how is your cousin?" i inquired. "i believe quite well," replied miss stanley; "but i have seen little of him in the last three months, and shall see less now." i looked at miss stanley inquiringly, and site read my look correctly, for she volunteered in a low tone the information that it was all off between them. "that is a thorough genuine, nice girl," said howard, as we parted from her. "who is she?" i explained to him all i knew about her, and he again declared she was charming. that he thought so, there was no doubt. chapter sixteen. my last half. my vacation passed very quietly till within ten days of its termination, at which time miss stanley came to stay at the heronry. i soon went over to call, and found everything much as it was formerly, except that the pedantic cousin was not mentioned. i soon after learnt that he had behaved very discreditably at oxford and had been obliged to leave, and that his match had been broken off by miss stanley. it is a curious fact, but it is one that experience has taught us, that in almost every case where a man assumes a superiority over all others, and is always endeavouring to expose weak points or want of knowledge in others whilst he thrusts his only slender information forward, that man is an impostor, and, if found out, will generally "go to the bad." this was the case with snipson, with stanley, and with many others we have known; and, if others will recall their own experiences, we believe they also will find they are led to the same conclusion. there is no necessity for a really clever man to be always blowing his own trumpet; his actual works will show what he has in him; whereas a shallow-pated impostor is always trying by tricks to arrive at a notoriety to which he never could attain by fair work and genuine competition, and so loses no opportunity of taking a prominent position for want of assumption. i found that miss stanley had seen howard several times in london, and pronounced him "charming." it was supposed that howard would have to go to southampton on some duty, and if so he was expected to pass a few days at the heronry. now, had it been any one else, i believe i should have been jealous, for, although i had ceased to be spoony on miss stanley, yet i liked her society, and should not have felt happy in knowing she was much with any one else. he, however, was an exception. each time i met howard i found that my latest experience had given me the capacity to appreciate in him some quality which had before escaped my observation, whereas when i met other men whom i had known when i was a boy, and of whom i had thought most highly, i found them to be rough, uncultivated, and unintellectual--the change really being in myself, not in them. i looked forward to howard's visit to the heronry, for i hoped then to see more of him and to get more at his mind than i had been able to do in the bustle and gaiety of london. i also wanted to compare his knowledge of mathematics, etc, with mine, in order to see whether the course at the academy that i had gone through was as sound as it used to be a few years previously. it wanted only five days to the date at which i had to leave for woolwich, when howard came down to the heronry, and i was asked over to dine and stop the next day. before i had been half an hour in the house i discovered that howard and helen stanley seemed to be equally pleased with each other, and i felt that my presence was not always looked upon as agreeable. i was not, therefore, surprised when on the next day howard told me in the strictest confidence that he and miss stanley were engaged, and that they were going to be married when he was a captain, which he hoped to be in about a year. it being the object of this tale to describe the life of a woolwich cadet thirty years ago, we must leave our friend howard and the charming helen at the heronry, and return once more to the busy scene of my early labours and competition at woolwich. on returning to the academy for my fifth half-year i found i was promoted to corporal, and was third senior. this promotion gave me a pair of epaulettes, which i put on, and wore with great pride. it was the first promotion i had received, and i can fairly say that no step in rank or position that fortune has since favoured me with ever produced one-tenth of the pleasure that i experienced at eighteen years of age in being made a corporal. my life at woolwich was now very agreeable. i had made the acquaintance of friends in the neighbourhood, and also in london. i usually went on leave from saturday afternoon to sunday evening, staying during the time with friends. at the academy, being a corporal gave me certain privileges and authority, whilst every neux was to all intents and purposes my slave. i had every prospect of taking a high position in my batch, and after four months at the arsenal, in the practical class, i should obtain my commission, and start as an officer in either the artillery or engineers. the friends at whose houses i visited congratulated me on my excellent prospects, and seemed to think i was excessively lucky in having such a chance before me. one of my friends was a retired colonel, who had been through the whole of the peninsular war, was at waterloo, and had left the service many years. he was a soldier of the old school, considered the service everything, and that there was only one profession for a gentleman, viz, the army. after dinner, and when he and i were _tete-a-tete_, he used to indulge in various hints and opinions as regards the conduct and character of an officer and a gentleman. "an officer," he used to say, "must be the most honourable and gentlemanly of men. he must resent instantly the slightest insult. if a man even looks insultingly at you, have him out at once. if the day ever does come (as i fear the radical tendency of the age seems to indicate) that duelling is done away with, a snob and a bully will be able to ride roughshod over a gentleman, and there will be no redress. an officer, too, must learn his profession. it is a mistake to think that an officer should be above his work. he ought to know everything and do everything better than his men. more than once in my service, when i commanded a troop of dragoons, i have taken off my coat and shown a private how to clean a horse. "an officer, too, ought to be able to take his wine, and yet show no signs of it. i can't recommend you any royal road to this," said the colonel, "except practice. i should like to tell you, also," he continued, "that many young officers make or mar their reputation daring their first night at mess. i remember once in my old regiment there was a young cornet joined us, who looked all right, and talked all right, but at mess he had to carve some beef for the colonel. he helped the colonel, and sent him a plate laden with two thick slices of beef, and a lump of fat big enough to choke a dog. `good heavens!' said the colonel, `what does that young fellow mean by sending me this mass of food? does he not know i can come again if i want more? take my plate away; the fellow has spoiled my dinner!' "we were now all rather doubtful about our new cornet, who, however, had plenty of money, and had come from one of our first public schools; and sure enough our suspicions proved to be correct--the cloven hoof had peeped out in the overladen plate of beef. the cornet proved to be the only son of a retired contract butcher, who had made a large fortune during the war, and had retired to the country and had tried to make his son a gentleman, but he couldn't do it, sir; the plate of beef exposed him." these and other similar precepts were instilled into me by my old friend daring the time that i took my first practice under his tuition of testing the strength of my head _versus_ the strength of his port wine, and i am happy to say that i gained the colonel's approval one saturday evening in an unexpected manner as follows:-a party of four had been at dinner, all military men. we had sat over our wine a fair time, and, charmed with the conversation, i had done full justice to the port. the colonel then proposed a rubber of whist, at which game he was an adept, and required me to take a hand. i played a fair game of whist for a youngster, and so made up the fourth. luckily i was on that night a good card-holder, and was the colonel's partner, and we won. he was delighted, for his whole heart was in the game. when we broke up he gave me a pat on the back and said, "shepard, i always thought well of you, but i never formed so high an opinion of your talents and power as to-night. you may talk about your examinations in euclid and mathematics, for which a fellow is crammed like a parrot for months, as a test of a man's brains and his fitness for a soldier; i think it's nearly all bosh, and gives no fair test; but if i see a young man do what you've done to-night, that is, put a bottle of port under his waistcoat and afterwards play a quiet, steady rubber, and remember whether the twelfth or thirteenth card is the best, i know that fellow has a good head. i believe there is not one youngster in twenty can do this now-a-day. they are all weeds--haven't the stamina and backbone they used to have--and the englishman is degenerating to a great extent, i believe, in consequence of the inordinate use of tobacco." daring the present half-year i had taken up cricket, and was very successful as a "fielder," though my batting was not first-rate. i was good enough, however, to play in the eleven against the officers of the artillery--a match we played each year--and made double figures in my score, and caught out two of the officers. although i was nearly always on leave from saturday to sunday for the "whole shay," as it was termed, yet i on one occasion did not go. the result was that i had command of the first company at church-parade, and marched past on the barrack-field before going to church. several times i had been in the ranks when we had marched past on sundays, but this was the first time i had ever commanded the company. there was a great crowd to see us march past and to hear the band, and the company was praised for its steadiness. i remembered well my feelings as a schoolboy when i saw a cadet in a similar position to that i now occupied, and i regretted that i had not now the same delight in being where i was that i fancied formerly i should have. it was not a want of enthusiasm, for i had still plenty of that left; but i felt as if i were performing a mere act of business, and was more occupied in seeing that the ranks kept line and proper distance than i was in the thought of commanding the company. somehow i had grown to understand that hard work and thought were the means to all success, and that now, when i happened to be senior corporal, it was merely in consequence of others being absent, and that i had attained this position by hard work. i must confess i felt disappointed with myself, for i did not experience one-hundredth part of the pleasure i should have felt had it been possible to transfer me instantly from a schoolboy at hostler's to the position i now occupied. one little incident, however, as we were marching off, did gave me temporary gratification. as i gave to the company the words "right turn!" "left wheel!" and we marched across the gravel to the chapel, i passed close to three of mr hostler's masters, who were there with his boys. there was not a face among the boys i recognised. all had changed; but the masters i knew, and i saw they had pointed me out to the youngsters. for a moment the misery of my life at hostler's came across me, and a vivid remembrance of the sneering self-sufficiency of one of these tutors, as he tried to impress upon me that i was too stupid to ever learn mathematics. i muttered to myself "pig-headed idiot!" as i recalled this man's proceeding, and now noticed a sort of self-complacency in his manner as he was probably explaining to hostler's boys that he had trained me for woolwich. this my fifth half-year seemed to pass more quickly than a week did when i was a neux, and we again began to talk about examinations and our vacation. to me the final trial was now coming, for although we worked at various subjects in the practical class, yet the work did not count. there was no examination, and our relative positions in the batch were unaltered when once we joined the practical class. i had succeeded in all the drawings i had done during the half-year, and had adopted a general polishing up in the various branches of study, for our position in the class for commissions was decided by the amount of marks we obtained as a total for all subjects. day passed after day, and it was within a fortnight of the examination when i received a letter from mr rouse, asking if i would come and pass saturday and sunday with him. on receipt of this letter i felt ashamed of never having once been to see the man to whom alone i was indebted for passing into the academy. i accepted the invitation, and on saturday afternoon found myself sitting in mr rouse's drawing-room, chatting with him a sort of shoppy conversation about examinations, marks, cramming, etc. mr rouse was a man who never disappointed me. whenever i met him, as i did often in afterlife, he invariably showed himself a genius. he was one of those sound thinkers and careful reasoners who are the real discoverers of truths, and who in almost every case remain unknown and unhonoured by the world; whilst superficial men, merely veneered with science by their contact with him, would chatter in learned societies, and be reported in newspapers, and bowed down to as authorities by the ignorant, who could not tell the electro-plated from the real metal. even when i was a student at rouse's he used to amuse us by reading out from the papers descriptions of various matters supposed to be scientifically written; he would then criticise these and show us that the writer was evidently unacquainted with his subject, and had written it at so much per line. i was glad to find what an interest he had taken in my career at the academy; he had noted exactly how i had done at all my examinations, and he said he was very nearly writing to me daring my third half-year to come and work with him occasionally, as he feared i might not pass the probationary examination. during the evening he put me up to what he called useful dodges in connexion with working various branches of higher mathematics, and i found my evening not only interesting, but profitable, as i made several notes which i could think over and which would be useful to me at my final examination. he gave me also great encouragement about the future, and said that he believed the time would come when the officers of both the engineers and artillery would take a higher position in the scientific and literary world than they then did. "you have a capital preparatory course at woolwich," he remarked, "and when you get your commission you could build on this. it has often struck me that it is odd how few officers of either artillery or engineers have ever made a mark in the world out of their profession, or have come out as leaders in science, and this in the future is sure to be remedied." mr rouse was right at the time, but since those days a change has occurred, the two corps having produced several men distinguished in subjects not strictly professional. i returned to the academy with a feeling of "wound-upness," and occupied myself in thinking about my coming examination. from being very sickly as a boy (due i believe entirely to the physicking of my aunt), i had become strong and particularly healthy, and found i could stand both mental and bodily work without feeling either much. i took care, however, to follow mr rouse's advice, viz, to work my body by exercise after i had worked my brain, and to get as much fresh air as possible after a long bout of "swatting." i never attempted to learn anything when i felt tired, and never forced myself to work; by these means i felt certain i got more knowledge into my head than i should have done had i followed the same plan that several cadets followed of working nearly all night with wet cloths round their heads and a dozen books before them. it was impossible to avoid being anxious about the examination, but i endeavoured to follow my old plan of not driving off everything to the last, and then trying to catch up time by working night and day. i had a sort of idea that the mind was like one's digestion in some respects, and the way to treat it was to treat it reasonably, and not to expect it to digest in a week as much mental food as it ought to have in three months. some cadets did adopt this plan, and they generally failed, and not unusually knocked themselves up. the first day of the examination commenced, and i found the first paper contained what we should term some very dodgy questions both in mechanics and trigonometry. i saw through the catches, and brought out neat answers, which made me tolerably confident they were correct. our examinations took nine days altogether, and then day after day the results came out, and we added our marks together, speculating how the next list of marks would alter our relative positions. until the drawing and mathematical marks came out, i stood twelfth of the batch, but having obtained within one mark of the full amount in drawing, and being second in mathematics, i made up a total that made me third of the batch, which consisted of twenty-five qualified for commissions, or at least for the practical class, which was to all intents the same thing as qualifying for commission. such a result was to me very satisfactory, and was far beyond what i dreamed of even in my most sanguine moments during my trials at mr hostler's. if any prophetic genius had hinted to the young gentlemen at mr hostler's that bob shepard, who was leaving because he was so stupid that he could not be taught mathematics, would beat all the boys in the school, and would succeed in being second in mathematics at the academy, this prophet would have found few who put faith in him, for it would have been considered impossible except by magic. a certain kind of magic was, however, practised, and this was by means of the system which mr rouse adopted, viz, of calmly reasoning out problems and deliberating on them, and taking a wide and general view of a subject instead of trying to follow blindly rules and systems, uninfluenced by reason or common sense. there was one small piece of "swagger," as it might be fairly termed, which i could not resist, and this was to pay a visit to mr hostler's now i had passed all my examinations successfully, and hear what he had to say for himself. i would not call on hostler himself, but called to see a boy whose brother had been a cadet, and who had asked me to have a look at the youngster at hostler's. i was shown into the small drawing-room that i remembered so well. there was the same table-cover, the same things on the mantelpiece, the same books, the same pictures as when i went into that room to meet hostler, and to be told i must give up all chance of woolwich, as i had no head for mathematics or euclid. it flashed across me that probably scores of other boys had had their prospects rained in consequence of being put under the change of selfish and bigoted men, who had only one system of teaching, and whose method was unsuited to the mind of the boy on whom they acted. in that room a straw would have turned the scale, and i might have left that place with a stamp of stupidity on me which i should never have had the chance of removing all my life, unless, as really happened, i had gone to mr rouse's, and had passed my examinations well. as i was thus meditating, the door opened and mr hostler came in. "ah, shepard!" he exclaimed, "i am very glad to see you. how are you?" "quite well, mr hostler. i've called to see young barnes. is he in?" "oh yes, he's in. i hope you'll come into the schoolroom and see him; it does the boys good to see a cadet there who has been prepared for the academy by me, and who has distinguished himself as you have done. i feel very proud of it i can tell you!" "you forget, mr hostler; you didn't prepare me for the academy, but gave me up as too stupid to learn mathematics." "oh, nothing of the kind, shepard, you're quite mistaken. i gave you all the groundwork, and you only wanted just a little polishing up, which could be better done by a private tutor like rouse than in a large school like mine, where we work in classes. no, don't think i'm going to be robbed of the merit of preparing you; besides, you were not three months with rouse, and here you were over a year. facts speak for themselves. depend on it, you passed and got on so well just because you were well grounded here, and saw my system of preparing, which is good." i was not then old enough to answer these misrepresentations of hostler's, but i knew how false they were, and yet how firmly they would convince the majority of outsiders that to hostler was due the merit of having trained me for woolwich. i found afterwards that he had told his boys that i was his special pupil, and that he had also claimed me, in his sort of advertisement list, as one who had been trained by him. such men succeed in the world as a rule, for the general public judge from superficial evidence, and rarely have the time, if they had the inclination, to look closely into matters that do not specially affect their interests. the case would appear thus:-"shepard, a cadet who stood second in mathematics at the academy, was prepared by mr hostler for twelve months, and then sent to finish details at mr rouse's for three months, during part of which time he was ill with hooping-cough. he passed in well, and came out well. honour, then, is due to mr hostler for his excellent training, and great credit is reflected on his school." i saw my young acquaintance, who was sent for at my request, as i declined to be made a parade of in the schoolroom, and bidding mr hostler farewell, i left his establishment, which i never entered again, and never saw mr hostler again, though the scenes through which i passed at his school even now sometimes haunt me in the form of nightmares, when i dream i am again a boy at that place, who has failed in his euclid, and cannot make the three sides of a triangle join, and who is waiting for his three cuts on the hand. chapter seventeen. finale. my career at what may be termed the academy (proper) terminated with the examinations named in the last chapter. i returned home to rest as it were on my laurels, for i had to pass no farther examinations in order to obtain my commission, and had merely to go through a practical course connected with the various branches in the arsenal, and also a course of surveying, after which there was the public examination, which was a mere farce, and we were then commissioned in the order in which we stood. before finally leaving the academy i once more paid a visit to mr rouse and dined with him, where i met a cambridge man who had just left cambridge and had taken a master of arts degree. when i left woolwich my coarse in mathematics consisted of plane and spherical trigonometry, conic sections, statics and dynamics, properties of roofs and arches, hydrostatics, projectiles, and the deferential and integral calculus. in this course i had obtained a very good decimal, and therefore might be said to have a fair knowledge of the subjects. i was, therefore, anxious to compare my mathematical knowledge with that of a master of arts of cambridge, and discover, if possible, how much longer it would take me to work up to the extent requisite to become m.a. to my surprise i found that the gentleman from cambridge knew only as much mathematics as i did when i was in the second class, and, in fact, if i had been at cambridge instead of at woolwich, i should have been distinguished all my life as m.a., and should, of course, have been looked on as an authority on such matters as mathematics by people who had no other means of testing one's qualifications than by the literary annex after one's name. i suggested to mr rouse that this system of conferring distinguishing honours on men from one or two universities, which honours carried weight with the public, seemed unfair to those men who were trained at other well-known places, such as woolwich, where no honours were given, but where they had gone beyond the course required to gain the honours at the universities. i had a long discussion with mr rouse relative to the course of training at woolwich in my time, and from what i told him we both agreed that the course was not practical enough for a soldier, and that too much time was occupied in theoretical matters which were never likely to be of use to us in afterlife. "it is," said mr rouse, "one of the most certain of all things, that men who teach any subject for any length of time gradually grow to refine, as i may term it, on that subject, and go on from theory to theory, and lose sight of the fact that to all practical men, such as soldiers must be to be useful, theory may be even a dangerous study. mathematicians," he continued, "are especially liable to drift into these habits, and often forget that the object of mathematics is to supply a means of obtaining results, so that they are means to an end, not the end itself. too, as a practical man, require to know some theory, such as the general rules of mechanics, the way in which trigonometrical formulas are obtained, and so on; but i don't think it is necessary, especially in the short time you have for each subject at woolwich, that you should devote too long a time to mere theoretical problems." the defects that i experienced after leaving woolwich were that i found considerable difficulty in writing a clear account of any event in a concise and grammatical manner, so that had i been called on to write a despatch, and describe officially some action or battle, my production would have been discreditable. i could solve an abstruse question in dynamics, but i could not write three sentences in english correctly. again, as regards the method of conducting discipline with soldiers, what their pay was, how they were paid, how men were treated for various offences, etc, i was as ignorant as a civilian, and there was then no preparatory training for an officer after joining the artillery by means of which he could learn these matters. the engineers had then, as now, a course of study at chatham, after obtaining their commissions, by which such subjects were learnt. defects such as the above-named have since been almost entirely removed, whilst various other matters have been improved at the academy, especially as regards the feeding of the cadets, which thirty years ago was simply disgraceful. bullying and even fagging have ceased to exist; and although there may be, as there always will be, in large establishments, some young men who are disposed to be bullies, and some others whose manners or appearance cause them to be unpopular, yet no recognised system of senior and junior, or of fagging, exists at woolwich. thirty years ago the defect at the academy was the hard life that cadets lived; their food was bad, and their punishment for small offences severe. if there is a defect at the present time at woolwich, it is that the cadet's comfort is too much cared for, and when he has, as he surely must have, in even peace time, to rough it, he will not, as we did, say, "well, it's better than being a cadet," but he will probably compare the damp walls of a room in some fort with his snug room at the academy, and the absence of many luxuries will be felt the more, because as a mere cadet they were considered essential for him. taking it all in all, however, we may fairly claim that at the present time the royal military academy at woolwich is perfect of its kind, and the training given there will compare favourably with that of any military college on the continent; that it was not always as well regulated this tale will probably induce many to think. any curious or interested person may learn all about the academy as it is, but the strange life led by a cadet thirty years ago--the singular inconsistency of highly honourable conduct in some matters, and proceedings which can only be termed "brutal" in others--exhibits peculiarities in the character of english youths which we do not believe is entirely worn out in large educational establishments at the present day. in this tale it has not been our object to moralise, or even to suggest, but merely to give a history of the life of a woolwich cadet thirty years ago, and as the cadet's career may fairly be said to terminate when he joined the practical class, we draw the curtain over the future life of gentleman cadet bob shepard. -----------------------------------------------------------------------the end. 