On Guard Part 18

"Not at all!" he cried. "Not at all. Why, I shall be most happy to do it for you, Mr. Mount-Bonsall. Really, it is a very small favor, for I have plenty of invitations at my disposal. Wait just one moment, and you shall have them. The yearling cla.s.s will be delighted to--ahem--welcome your two friends."

A minute or two later Master Chauncey's Fifth Avenue gait was carrying him swiftly up the street again, with two more of the much coveted invitations in his hand. And Chick Spencer was rushing into another tent to seize his friend Corporal Jasper wildly by the arm.

"What do you think? What do you think?" he cried. "The plebes are coming to the hop!"

"What! Why!"

"That fool dude has fallen into the trap. He's coming to dance, and bring two more plebes with him. Oh, say, oh say!"

The whole yearling cla.s.s knew of it a few moments later when the companies fell in for parade. And the wildest hilarity resulted.

"A plebe at the hop! A plebe at the hop!" was the cry. "A plebe without a soul to dance with him. Oh! but won't there be fun."

There was indeed to be fun; the yearlings would have thought so if they could have seen Chauncey and read his thoughts. Oh, yes, there was fun.

But the question was, who was to enjoy it?

Chauncey, when he reached his own tent, found Mark standing in front of it; and Mark was dancing about with excitement, too.

"Did you get them?" he cried.

"Yes, I did, ye know, and--where are you going?"

Mark had started hastily down the street. He stopped long enough to shove a note into his friend's hand and give a warning word as to secrecy; then he turned and was gone.

"Read it! Read it!" was echoing in Chauncey's ears.

He did; and this was what he read:

"DEAR MR. MALLORY: I am writing this in great haste.

Come over to see me at once; things are coming out beautifully. Did you get the extra invitations?

"Your friend,

"GRACE FULLER."

And Chauncey nodded his head in delight, gave vent to an extra "bah Jove," and then dived into his tent to talk it over with the others.

What the others had to say is of little moment; the all important person was Mark, and Mark was hurrying over to the hotel, keeping step to the tune of the band that was just then marching across the parade ground at the head of the battalion.

He found Grace waiting for him.

"You got the invitations?" she inquired.

"Yes, Chauncey did," responded the other, laughing.

"I told you," said the girl, "that Corporal Spencer would do it. I knew his handwriting on the envelope at once, and I was sure that he was in the plot to fool Mr. Chauncey. And I'd just love to outwit him, too."

"You say you were successful?" inquired Mark.

For answer Grace Fuller presented three dance cards, at which Mark glanced with amazement and delight indescribable.

"Why, they're full!" he cried. "You've gotten some one for every dance!"

"Yes," she said, laughing gleefully as she went over the names with him.

"I put your names over the top, you and Mr. Dewey and Mr. Chauncey--that last name of his is too long to say. And I could have filled a dozen just as well, only you said that you three were the only ones who cared for dancing. I hope you all dance well. Mr. Dewey looks as if he might; and our Fifth Avenue friend I'm sure is a perfect sylph. I think you do everything gracefully."

"I hope you have a chance to find out," laughed Mark. "I hope you have put yourself down on my card."

"I have put you down for the very first dance," said she, simply. "You told me to fix it all the way I liked."

"But who are the other girls?" inquired Mark. "I haven't met any of them."

"You will in plenty of time. I'll introduce you to them. They're all friends of mine; you see, I know nearly every one about the post. And I've picked all the very prettiest and nicest girls of them all, too."

"And arranged them in order of merit," added Mark, slyly glancing at his own card, whereat the girl shook her fan at him.

"But tell me," he continued, in perplexity, after a few moments' pause, "how did you ever manage to get so many girls into the conspiracy? Why, I had no idea that one-tenth as many cared anything about plebes."

"I used a little diplomacy," laughed Grace. "I made myself as charming as I could. I found two, three in fact, whose brothers are plebes, and one whose brother will be next year. I think most of the girls really sympathize with the plebes, and then, too, I'm sure all of them like to tease. Did you ever know one who did not? And this will make the yearlings fairly wild. But the chief reason I urged I can't tell to you; you wouldn't like it."

"Why not?"

"It would make you conceited, as you say. You must know--you ought to if you don't--that you're a regular hero among West Point girls. In the first place, every one knows how you saved me; and then all of them saw you the other day stop that runaway. You're famous, besides, as the boldest plebe that ever came here; the yearlings are the laughingstock of the place because of you. And that makes you a sort of romantic creature, a Sir Galahad in disguise. To dance with you is a whole fairy tale."

Mark laughed heartily over this description, which he chose to consider exaggerated. But whatever might be the cause of Grace Fuller's success, he was heartily and undisguisedly delighted at the success itself. Here were three dance cards, one for each of the conspirators; and all of them were full, which meant that there were a score or more of girls who had pledged themselves to join in that plot.

It was a triumph indeed, and Mark thanked Grace for it most heartily.

And when he left the hotel and hurried over to camp again, his chuckles of delight were audible and numerous.

CHAPTER XVII.

THE RESULT AT THE HOP.

Every one goes to hops promptly on time at West Point. In select society it is the thing nowadays to go late everywhere, so Chauncey a.s.sured his friends. But at the academy relentless tattoo sounds on hop-nights at half-past nine as usual. The cadets have to be in line at camp five minutes later. And so, anxious to dance all they can, everybody who intends to dance is on hand by the hour of eight.

The dances were held, in Mark's day, in the academy building, in two big rooms on the second floor. Those rooms are used as examination rooms; luckless and frightened candidates were sent there to show what they do not know. This evening, however, it was gay and festive.

The West Point Military Band, in full plumage, occupied a small platform and dispensed an overture previous to the first waltz. The walls were gay with flags and an abundance of decorations in general. And the floor and seats about the room were still more beautifully adorned.

A person who "knew the ropes," who was familiar with hops and hop ways, would not have failed to notice that there was something unusual going on that night, that everybody seemed to be waiting for something. Cadets talking to damsels could not keep their eyes from straying to the doorway, while at the doorway sauntered about, waiting, a considerable group of anxious cadets. There was one thought in the minds of all of them.

"Will they come? Oh, say, will they come?"