Dick Prescotts's Fourth Year at West Point Part 7

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.

d.i.c.k 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, d.i.c.k 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 d.i.c.k 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 cla.s.sman.

"I have no alternative," d.i.c.k 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 pa.s.sed on across the guard line, making for the street of A company.

d.i.c.k 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 cla.s.sman 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 d.i.c.k 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 cla.s.s, 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.

d.i.c.k 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 cla.s.sman, 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 cla.s.s was seething when it received the word next morning, for it was the common belief that Prescott must have shadowed and followed his cla.s.smate in order to entrap him.

"It's surely time for cla.s.s action now," Durville told several of his cla.s.smates.

CHAPTER IV