Dick Prescott's Second Year at West Point Part 34

"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 pa.s.ses, then settled down to business.

On d.i.c.k'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 d.i.c.k 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.

b.u.mp! 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 gla.s.s of water.

"Here," answered d.i.c.k, 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 d.i.c.k, tendering his hand. "It is all forgotten."

d.i.c.k 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 pa.s.sed a painful couple of hours until opiates won out and he pa.s.sed 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, d.i.c.k 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 compet.i.tion 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 hors.e.m.e.n, though all would have chance to learn more during the two years yet ahead of them.

Dodge, who rode in the same detachment with d.i.c.k and Greg, was credited with being the poorest rider in the cla.s.s.

"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 b.u.mp it, sir. Settle down and ride steadily."