Dick Prescott's Third Year at West Point - novelonlinefull.com
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"You have to do something more than tell a girl," smiled Prescott patiently, though wearily. "You have to ask her."
"Well, thunder and bomb-sh.e.l.ls, 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 cla.s.s. 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 d.i.c.k.
"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, "d.i.c.k 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. d.i.c.k would never forgive me if I b.u.t.ted 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 a.s.sured 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. d.i.c.k 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. "d.i.c.k, 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 cla.s.s, all returning. Yet none of the dozen were among their warmest friends in cla.s.s life.
"Look, fellows!" cried d.i.c.k 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 ash.o.r.e.
"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 cla.s.sman.
"Fall in!" yelled Dennison.
"Where?" inquired d.i.c.k 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 cla.s.sman 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!