On Guard Part 17

"It is," said he. "I've no time to think up any other kind of plans just at present. You see they get up so many against me that I am busy all the time holding up my end. If it were not for your aid I am afraid I should have failed before this."

"Have they prepared a new one already?"

By way of answer Mark took out the "invitation."

"Read that," he said, "and see."

Grace took it and glanced at it, a look of surprise spreading over her face.

"Why, I have one just like it!" she cried. "But where on earth did you get this?"

"It was sent to our friend Chauncey," answered the plebe. "You see the yearlings thought he would take the bait and come; being rather weak on the point of his aristocracy, he was supposed to fall right into the trap and consider it a recognition of his social rank. Then when he came he'd have no one to dance with, and would be a laughingstock generally."

"I see," said the girl. "It was a nice tribute to our common sense."

"Ours!" laughed Mark. "The yearlings have small idea that you are sympathizing with the plebes."

"Well, I am," vowed the other. "With you, anyway, and I do not care in the least how soon they know it. I told father, and he said I was quite right. I don't like hazing."

"You may have a chance to let them know it publicly very soon,"

responded Mark, gazing at her sweet face gratefully. "That's what I came over to see you about. You see we want to accept the invitation."

"Accept it! Why, that would be walking right into the trap!"

"That's just exactly what I mean to do. Only I mean to put a hole in the other side first, so that I can walk out again and run off with traps and trappers and trappings and all."

"How do you mean?"

"You are not as acute as usual," laughed Mark. "I had expected that by this time you would have guessed the secret."

"You don't mean to go and dance?"

"Exactly," said Mark.

Grace Fuller glanced at him in horror for a moment, and then as she saw his merry eyes twinkle a vague idea of what he meant began to occur to her. She began to see the possibilities of the affair, just as Mark had seen them. He might get all the girls to dance with him; he might have the yearlings perfectly furious, raving; he might dump West Point traditions all at once, all in a heap, and with a dull, sickening thud at that.

As she began to realize all this, Mark was gazing into her eyes; he saw them begin to dance and twinkle just as his had. And he laughed softly to himself.

"Our angel has not failed us," he whispered. "I knew she would not. Will you help us?"

And Grace answered simply that she would. But she set her teeth together with a snap that meant much.

It meant that Mark Mallory was to be the first plebe ever to dance at a West Point hop.

CHAPTER XVI.

SETTING THE TRAP.

The dinner hour had pa.s.sed, likewise the second policing of the day had been attended to by the humble plebes. The afternoon's drill was over; it was time for full dress parade.

Company streets were alive with bustling cadets. Officers were winding themselves into their red sashes, privates were giving the last polishing touches to spotlessly shining guns. And the plebes, lonely and disconsolate, were watching the preparations for the ceremony and wondering if the time really would ever come when they too might be esteemed handsome enough to be put on parade.

There was one plebe, however, to whom no such foolish idea occurred. For indeed, he was quite convinced that he was better looking in his new uniform than most of them, and a great deal more aristocratic than all.

He was, at the moment we stole in upon his thoughts, marching with much dignity down the street of Company B.

He carried his hands at his sides, "palms to the front, little fingers on the seams of the trousers," as plebes used to be obliged to do whenever they walked about in public. But even with all that stiff and awkward pose he could not lose the characteristic dudish "Fifth Avenue"

gait without which our friend Chauncey would not have been himself.

For it was Chauncey, and he was bound upon an all important duty.

He stopped at one of the tents; there was only one occupant in it, a yearling, red-headed, hot-tempered looking chap, with a turned-up nose and a wealth of freckles, Corporal Spencer, known to his cla.s.smates as "Chick."

Master Chauncey Van Rensselaer Mount-Bonsall stood in the doorway and bowed with his most genteel, perfect and inimitable bow. He would have knocked had he seen anything but canvas to knock on.

"Mr. Spencer?" he inquired.

The yearling stared at the plebe in amazement; but Chauncey's politeness and urbanity were contagious, and Corporal Spencer could not help bowing, too.

"May I have the privilege of a few moments' conversation with you?" the plebe next inquired.

"Ahem!" said Mr. Spencer. "Why--er--I suppose so."

"Corporal Spencer, I have a favor to ask of you, don't cher know, bah Jove!"

Corporal Spencer was silent.

"I do not know why I should look to you for it, except--aw--ye know, you were my drill master, and so I look to you as my superior, my guardian, so to speak."

"That's a little taffy for him," Chauncey added--to himself. "Bah Jove, I think the deuced idiot has taken the bait."

The plebe lost no time in taking advantage of his opportunity; he opened an envelope he held in his hand.

"I received to-day," he began, "a card, ye know, an invitation to the hop. I do not know who sent it, bah Jove, but I'm deuced grateful, for I'm awfully fond of dawncing. I need scarcely tell you that I shall hasten to accept it, don't cher know."

The look of delight which spread over the yearling's face was not lost upon the plebe.

"So the idiot is going to fall into the trap," thought the former.

"So the idiot thinks I'm idiot enough to be fooled," thought Chauncey.

Chauncey continued, delighted with his success, no less than the corporal was with his supposed one.

"Now, I have two friends," he said, "plebes, don't cher know, who are deuced anxious to come with me. And I wanted to awsk you, bah Jove, if you could get me two invitations. I know it is a great deal for one to do for a plebe, but----"

Corporal Spencer was in such a hurry to a.s.sent that he could not wait for the plebe to finish.