Dick Prescott's First Year at West Point Part 21

"The motive back of this outrage on a sentry is all quite clear to me, Colonel," spoke the subordinate officer. "Dodge is an unpopular and b.j.-ish fellow. He has undoubtedly been making his brags that he'd bag any yearlings who tried to interfere with him on post. Some of the yearlings must have taken up the challenge."

"Yet at roll call last night, which was held at once, every cadet responded or was properly accounted for," broke in the K.C.

savagely.

"Yes, Colonel; but the young men had nearly half an hour in which to work."

"They couldn't have rowed both ways across the Hudson and have gotten back into camp in time for that swift roll call," retorted Colonel Strong.

"Even that part of the affair doesn't seem very puzzling to me, sir,"

replied Captain Vesey. "a.s.suming that yearlings bagged Mr.

Dodge, as I think they did, they may have had citizen friends at hand to carry out the rest of the affair with a boat. They may even have arranged with soldiers belonging to one of the Army detachments here."

"The only matter of importance now, Captain Vesey, is to find out just which cadets, if cadets were engaged in the outrage, seized Mr. Dodge on his post."

"In ferreting them out, Colonel, I will follow to the last extremity any instructions you may give me, sir," promised Captain Vesey.

The K.C. tugged hard at his moustache, then scowled harder than before.

"What do you think the chances are, Vesey, of our finding the perpetrators?"

"Frankly, Colonel, I don't think we have a chance in a million, unless some yearling concerned in the matter voluntarily confesses."

"A yearling voluntarily confess!" snorted the K.C. rising. "Bah!"

Captain Vesey smiled after his superior officer had stalked out of the tent. It is just barely possible that the younger officer, remembering some prank of his own yearling days, wasn't extraordinarily anxious to detect yearlings in an offense that would result in depriving the Army of the further services of some very bright and resourceful young men.

Hot, dusty, perspiring, first cla.s.s men, yearlings and plebes came back to camp in detachments from various tours of drum and instruction. The only cadets who looked at all fresh were the members of the guard, who were excused from the day's drills. Yet for these returning ones, late in the afternoon of a hot day, there was no immediate rest. Some of the cadets came back in service clothes, others in khaki, still others in field costume of campaign hat, flannel shirt, gray trousers and leggins. Immediately the young men in all these varieties of uniform disappeared within their tents.

There was a subdued sound of great bustle. Then, almost in the same instant, it seemed, cadets stepped from the various tents into the open. Each was immaculate, very nearly glorious in spotless, faultlessly pressed white duck trousers, topped by the gray full-dress coat and hat. Each cadet carried his rifle now, except for the cadet officers, who wore their swords.

With almost dizzying speed, after the return and the dressing, the a.s.sembly was sounded. The company to which d.i.c.k and his mates belonged was then, at the command, formed and inspected, marched across the plain, over to the parade ground, where hundreds of girls, in bright-hued dresses, and other visitors to West Point awaited their coming.

With the cadet adjutant and cadet sergeant-major in place as guides, the company came to its place in battalion formation.

Other companies marched in, and parade rest was ordered. Now, at the command, a few movements in the manual of arms were executed, the battalion presenting a beautiful line of gray, white and flashing steel. Next the band, playing gayly, marched from left of line, before the battalion, halting in place beyond the right of line. Fifes and drums sounded the retreat. The sunset gun boomed over the hollow beyond; down came the Stars and Stripes on one more day of national life, while the band played "The Star Spangled Banner" and all the men and boys among the spectators, including several on-looking Army officers, uncovered their heads, standing rigidly at attention. It was an awe-inspiring moment to one who could feel the thrill of patriotism. This whole ceremony of dress parade had about it the impressive solemnity of religious worship.

There were yet some more formalities. Then the young men were marched back. A few minutes after the sunset gun the men were once more in their own company streets, and, for all cadets except those of the guard, the work day was over. In the evening there was to be a cadet hop at Cullom Hall, at which many of the bright-faced girls who had watched dress parade would be present.

The evening after there would be a band concert in camp. So the nights of the cadet summer were pa.s.sed.

But the hops were not for the plebes. They could dance only in the day time, under the watchful eyes of the dancing instructor, for every plebe must take dancing lessons in summer until he has been p.r.o.nounced qualified. To a cadet hop, though there is no official rule against it, no plebe ever presumes to go. Nor may he, for that matter, mingle in the social life with the young lady visitors at the post. He may try it, of course, but no well-informed girl will allow a plebe to take the chances. If a plebe is caught actually paying attention to any young woman the upper cla.s.s men take care of him in their own effective way. A plebe, like any other cadet, must show courtesy to any woman who addresses him; beyond that the young man must not go during his plebedom. "Flirtation Week" is close by, but no plebe ever dares to stroll there.

This being the night of the hop, the upper cla.s.s men were busy with their toilets as soon as they returned from supper; or as many of them were as had arranged to "drag a femme" to the hop. This is cadet parlance for escorting a young lady to the dance. However, some upper cla.s.s men notoriously avoid attending hops.

"It's a fine thing, isn't it," growled Greg that evening, "to take a lot of dancing lessons every week, and then, when the night comes around, to stroll through the company streets and listen to the orchestra in the distance."

"I'm not complaining," d.i.c.k replied.

"Yet you used to be fond of dancing."

"I am now."

"Then why don't you yearn to go to a hop?"

"I do. But see here, Greg. The fellow makes the best soldier, in the end, I'll wager, who learns to keep his greatest desires in check. All the restrictions thrown around the plebe by custom are intended to make him the better man, soldier and officer by teaching him to wait until his time comes."

"I congratulate you, mister," spoke a low but hearty voice from the doorway of a tent the two plebes were pa.s.sing. "You're coming on, mister. Grin and bear it. You'll be happy one of these days!"

d.i.c.k and Greg glanced backward over their shoulders to see that the speaker was Mr. Reynolds, member of the new first cla.s.s and a cadet captain. Reynolds usually attended the hops. But for to-night he had only a telegram in the breast of his coat in the place of the cherished "femme" whom he had hoped to "drag." As he stood in his doorway, looking up at the inscrutable stars, Cadet Captain Reynolds was taking his own lesson in patient waiting.

"Thank you, sir," d.i.c.k replied in a low tone, then faced front again.

That night another plebe was on post number three during the tour ending at midnight. He was not molested, however, which was most fortunate for mischief-loving yearlings, for the K.C. had stationed two tacs. in hiding close by, to be promptly on hand in case of any attempted trouble.

A few nights later it came d.i.c.k Prescott's turn to take the late tour on post number three. He was both apprehensive and watchful, but when the relief picked him up at midnight he had no report of any kind to make.

It was well enough known throughout cadet camp that the superintendent and all his subordinates were bent sternly on stopping or severely punishing any attempts to interfere with sentries.

As the weeks of hard work pa.s.sed, and no more mysteries fell over post number three it began to be felt that plebes might thereafter walk there on the darkest night without worry.

One day in July d.i.c.k found himself again on guard, with post number three for the "ghosts promenade"--that is, the tour ending at midnight.

"Don't feel too secure, will you, old man?" begged Anstey. "Watch out, just the same, won't you?"

"I always take that post as though it were one of especial danger,"

d.i.c.k answered seriously.

Which was well indeed, for Yearlings Davis, Graham and Poultney were even then plotting behind the walls of their tent.

CHAPTER XIII

THE SENTRY MAKES A CAPTURE

"Post number one! Eleven o'clock, and all's well."

"Post number two! Eleven o'clock, and all's well!"

Cadet Prescott, midway on his post, came to a halt, bringing his rifle to port arms.

"Post number three! Eleven o'clock, and all's well."

Nor did the plebe return his rifle to his shoulder and resume pacing until he heard the hail taken up and repeated by the man on number four. Thus the call traveled the rounds, back to number one, and died out.

Just an instant later Plebe Prescott became suspicious that something was wrong in his immediate vicinity.

Rain was threatening, and the sultry night was so dark that, on this shaded post, the young sentry could see barely a few yards away from him.