Dick Prescotts's Fourth Year at West Point Part 9

"You're a queer old extremist, anyway, with all your notions of duty and other bugaboos. This affair has given me the shivers."

"Then cheer up, Holmesy!" laughed Cadet Captain Prescott.

"Oh, it's you I'm shivering for," muttered Greg.

CHAPTER V

THE CADET "SILENCE" FALLS

Six companies of sun-browned, muscular young men marched away to cadet mess hall that evening.

If any of these cadets were more than properly fatigued, none of them betrayed the fact. Their carriage was erect, their step springy and martial. In ranks their faces were impa.s.sive, but when they filed into the mess hall, seated themselves at table and glanced about, an orderly Babel broke loose.

At all, that is to say, save one table. That was the table at which Cadet Captain Richard Prescott sat.

Greg was the first to make the discovery. He turned to Brown with a remark. Brown glanced at Holmes, nodding slightly. All the other cadets at that board were eating, their eyes on their plates.

"What's the matter?" quizzed Holmes. "You're ideas moving slowly?"

Again Brown glanced up at his questioner, but that was all.

"How's the cold lamb, Durville?" questioned d.i.c.k.

Durville pa.s.sed the meat without speaking, nor did he look directly at Prescott.

d.i.c.k and Greg exchanged swift glances. They understood. The blow had fallen.

_The Silence had been given_!

d.i.c.k felt a hot flush mounting to his temples. The blood there seemed to sting him. Then, as suddenly, he went white, clammy perspiration beading his forehead and temples.

This was the verdict of the cla.s.s---of the corps? He had offended the strict traditions and inner regulations of the cadet corps, and was p.r.o.nounced unfit for a.s.sociation!

That explained the constrained atmosphere at this one table, the one spot in all the big room where silence replaced the merry chatter of mealtime.

"The fellows are mighty unjust!" thought d.i.c.k bitterly, as he went on eating mechanically. He no longer knew, really, whether he were eating meat, bread or potato.

That was the first thought of Prescott. But swiftly his view changed. He realized about him, were hundreds of the flower of the young manhood of the United States. These young men were being trained in the ways of justice and honor, and were trying to live up to their ideals.

If such an exceptional, picked body of young men had condemned him---had sentenced him to bitter retribution---was it not wholly likely that there was much justice on their side?

"The verdict of so many good and true men must contain much justice,"

Prescott thought, as he munched mechanically, trying proudly to bide his dismay from watchful eyes. "Then I have offended against manhood, in some way. Yet how? I have obeyed orders and have performed my duties like a soldier. How, then, have I done wrong?"

Once more it seemed indisputable to Prescott that his comrades had wronged him. But once more his own sense of justice triumphed.

"I am not really at fault," he told himself, "nor is the cla.s.s.

The cla.s.s has acted on the best view of appearances that it could obtain. I was wholly right in obeying the orders that I received from Lieutenant Denton, and equally right in not communicating those orders to a cla.s.s committee. Nor could I refrain from reporting Mr. Jordan for breach of con. That was my plain duty, more especially as Mr. Jordan is a member of the company that I command. But the appearances have been all against me, and I have refused to explain.

The cla.s.s is hardly to be blamed for condemning me, and I imagine that Mr. Jordan, in accusing me, has not been at all reticent.

Probably, too, he has taken no extreme pains to adhere to the exact truth. I do not see how I can get out of the sc.r.a.pe in which I find myself. I wonder if the silence is to be continued until I am forced to resign and give up a career in the Army?"

With such thoughts as these it was hard, indeed, to look and act as though nothing had happened.

But Cadet Jordan, taking eager, covert looks at his enemy from another table, got little satisfaction from anything that he detected in Prescott's face.

"Why, that b.j.(fresh) puppy is quite equal to cheeking his way on through the last year and into the Army!" thought Jordan maliciously.

"However, he's done for! No matter if he sticks, he'll never get any joy out of his shoulder straps."

Little could Jordan imagine that Prescott's proud nature would long resist the silence. If this rebuke were to become permanent, then Prescott was not in the least likely to attempt to enter upon his studies at the beginning of they Academic year in September.

And Greg! He didn't waste any time in trying to be just to any one. All his hot blood rose and fomented within him at the bare thought of this terrible indignity put upon that prince of good fellows, d.i.c.k Prescott. Holmes felt, in truth, as though he would be glad to fight, in turn, every member of the first cla.s.s who had voted for the silence.

That practically all the fellows of the first cla.s.s had voted for the silence, Greg did not for an instant believe. He was well aware that d.i.c.k had many staunch friends in the cla.s.s who would stand out for him in the face of any appearances. But a vote of the majority in favor of the silence would be enough; the rest of the cla.s.s would be bound by the action of the majority.

And all the lower cla.s.ses would observe and respect any decision of the first cla.s.s concerning one of its own members.

Not a word did Greg say to d.i.c.k. Yet, under the table, Holmes employed one of his knees to give d.i.c.k's knee a long, firm pressure that conveyed the hidden message of unfaltering friendship and loyalty.

For the other cadets at the table the silence imposed more or less hardship, since they could utter only the most necessary words. They however, were not objects against whom the silence was directed, and they could endure the absence of conversation with far more indifference than was possible for Prescott.

It was a relief to all at the table, none the less, when the rising order was given. When the corps had marched back to camp, and had been dismissed, d.i.c.k Prescott, head erect, and betraying no sign of annoyance, walked naturally into A company's Street, drew out his camp chair and seated himself on it in the open.

Barely had he done so, when Greg arrived. Cadet Holmes, however, did not stop or speak, but hurried on.

"Greg has his hands full," thought d.i.c.k. "He's going to investigate.

And I'm afraid his hot head will get him into some sort of trouble, too."

The imposition of the silence did not affect Greg in his relations with his tentmate. When a cadet is sent to Coventry, or has the silence "put" on him, his tentmate or roommate may still talk unreservedly with him without fear of incurring cla.s.s disfavor.

To impose the rule of silence on the tentmate or roommate of the rebuked one would be to punish an innocent man along with the guilty one.

Rarely, after all, does the corps err in its judgment when Coventry or the silence is meted out. None the less, in d.i.c.k's case a grave mistake had been made.

Time slipped by, and darkness came on, but Greg had not returned.

There was band concert in camp that night. Many cadets of the first and third cla.s.ses had already gone to meet girls whom they would escort in strolling near the bandstand. Plebes are not expected to escort young ladies to these concerts. The members of the second cla.s.s were away on the summer furlough, as d.i.c.k and Greg had been the summer before.

As the musicians began to tune up at the bandstand, most of the remaining cadets sauntered through the company streets on their way to get close to the music.

All cadets who pa.s.sed through A company's street became suddenly silent when within ten paces of d.i.c.k's tent, and remained silent until ten paces beyond.

d.i.c.k's tent being at the head of the street, he was quite near enough to the music. But he was not long in noting that both cadet escorts and cadets without young ladies took pains not to approach too close to where he sat. It was enough to fill him with savage bitterness, though he still strove to be just to his cla.s.smates who had been blinded by Cadet Jordan's villainous scheme.

Of a sudden the band struck up its lively opening march. Just at that moment Prescott became aware of the fact that Greg Holmes was lifting out a campstool and was placing it beside him.

"Well," announced Greg, "I've found out all there is behind the silence."