Dick Prescotts's Fourth Year at West Point Part 10

"I took it for granted that was your purpose," d.i.c.k 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 d.i.c.k 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 cla.s.s was swung around to the silence. Only a bare majority were wheedled into voting for it. Nearly half of the cla.s.s 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 cla.s.s 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, d.i.c.k, 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," d.i.c.k 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 d.i.c.k 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 d.i.c.k'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, d.i.c.k, 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 repet.i.tion of what had happened the night before.

At d.i.c.k'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 cla.s.s president, and believed to be one of the tallest of the cla.s.s 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.

d.i.c.k 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 cla.s.smate 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 d.i.c.k. 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 d.i.c.k had considered his good friends did not thus put themselves on record. d.i.c.k 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 cla.s.s meeting was called. Though Cadet Prescott was cla.s.s 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 cla.s.s was called to the chair. Then Durville and others made heated addresses in which they declared that Prescott could no longer consistently retain the cla.s.s presidency.

A motion was made that Prescott be called upon to resign. It was seconded by several first cla.s.smen.

Then Anstey, the Virginian, claimed the floor in behalf of the humiliated cla.s.s president. The blood of Virginian orators flowed in Anstey's veins, nor did he discredit his ancestry.

In an impa.s.sioned yet deliberate and logical speech Anstey declared that great injustice had been done Cadet Richard Prescott, and by the members of his own cla.s.s.

"Every man within reach of my voice knows Mr. Prescott's record,"