On Guard Part 25

"I'll write it," he said. "Here."

Colonel Harvey dictated it again relentlessly.

"I--promise--to--pay--to--Nick--Flynn--one--hundred--dollars--when M.--M.--is--fired. Benjamin Bartlett. Received--payment--July--13. Nick Flynn."

The officer took the result, laid it on his desk and took another from his pocket to compare.

"That settles it," said he, looking up at last. "Conspiracy."

"What does this mean, sir?" demanded the angry old squire, who had been waxing more and more impatient under the ordeal. "Why should my son be insulted like a common criminal? Why----"

"Because he is one," responded the other, just as warmly. "Look at those two papers, sir! Your son wrote both, and I know it."

"Where did you get that other?"

"The story is briefly told," said Colonel Harvey. "Two cadets of my academy turned highwaymen yesterday and held up your son at the point of a revolver. I presume he has told you."

"So that's who it was!" cried the furious squire. "So that's the kind of cadets you have! I shall have them both in jail."

"You will not," laughed the other, "for several reasons. In the first place, you do not know who they are, and I do not propose to tell you.

In the second, if you do, your son is guilty of conspiracy, and I shall see him punished for that."

"This is preposterous!" exclaimed Squire Bartlett. "That paper proves absolutely nothing----"

"His manner when I asked him to write it, and his attempt to disguise his hand, prove a good deal to me. It proves to me, sir, that he is lying, and that you are a very foolish and indulgent father to believe him as you do. He has lied to me and to you, and he lies still when he denies it. Look at him cower now, sir! I knew that this whole thing was an outrageous plot the very moment the cadets showed me that paper this morning. One of them is one of my most trusted officers, and I believe his account. And what is more----"

Here the colonel stopped and glared at Benny.

"I say this for the benefit of your son, who evidently hates Mark Mallory. I believed and was glad to believe, that Mallory, who is the finest lad I had seen for many a day, is as honest as he is brave. And I shall take great pleasure in telling him so, and in apologizing for my doubts. And in conclusion----"

Colonel Harvey arose to his feet and bowed.

"I bid you a good-day, Squire Bartlett. Cadet Mallory will not be expelled from this academy, if I can help it."

And Benny and the squire left West Point that morning, which was the end of Mark's peril in that direction.

CHAPTER XXII.

MARK RECEIVES A COMMITTEE.

"Oh, say, Mark, I wish you'd fight that ole cadet! An' ef you do, jest won't we whoop her up! Gee whiz!"

The speaker was Texas. His quiet gray eyes were glistening as he spoke, and his face was alive with excitement.

The two were resting from the morning's drill, and were lounging about a shady nook in the corner of the siege battery inclosure. Grouped about them, and equally interested in the important discussion were five plebes, the other members of the Banded Seven.

It will be remembered that one of the "hop managers," a first cla.s.sman and an officer, Cadet Lieutenant Wright, had ventured in behalf of his cla.s.s to request Mark to leave the floor. Mark, who was in the midst of a dance at the moment, had been justly indignant. He had informed the other that an apology would be demanded; and that as a cadet, having an invitation, he proposed to stay and dance. Whereupon the hop managers had stopped the music and "busted up their ole hop" and gone home in a rage.

That was the end of the matter, except that there was a fight on between Cadet Mallory and Lieutenant Wright. It was to that fight that Texas was alluding.

"An' ef you lick him," he repeated, "won't we whoop her up!"

"There will certainly be a fight," responded Mark, after a moment's thought. "That is, unless Wright apologizes, which he will not do of course. I do not like to fight; I'd a great deal rather get along without it; for it is a brutal sort of an amus.e.m.e.nt at best."

"Rats!" growled Texas.

"But it's necessary all the same," continued the other. "I do not see how I can keep my dignity otherwise. The notion that a plebe is a creature without any feelings who may be slammed about at will is altogether too prevalent to suit my taste; and I propose to have the cadets understand once and for all that they may haze me all they want to if they can, but that when they insult me they are going to get hurt."

"Bully, b'gee!" chimed in Dewey, with a chuckle of delight.

"Do you think you can do him?" inquired one.

"I don't know," said Mark. "And what is more I don't want to know. If I knew I could whip him I wouldn't want to fight. I mean to try."

"Wow!" growled Texas, angry at the mere supposition of Mark's not being able to thrash any one on earth. "Didn't he whop Billy Williams? An'

ain't he the best man in the yearlin' cla.s.s?"

"They said he was," said Mark. "And I had a hard time with him. But Wright's been here two years longer and is trained to the top notch.

He's stronger than Williams, but I doubt if he's so quick. And still he's captain of the football team, which means a good deal, I'll tell you."

"I wish 'twar my chance to fight him!" exclaimed Texas. "Say, Mark, you always were lucky."

"I don't even know if he'll fight yet," laughed the other.

"B'gee!" chimed in Dewey, "I think it's about time you began to think of getting ready to start to send over and find out. Reminds me of a story I once heard, b'gee----"

"Good Heavens!" groaned Mark, with a look of anguish, "I'll send at once. Everything I do seems to remind you of something. I'll send."

"You will, hey?" laughed Dewey. "B'gee, that reminds me of another.

There was a fellow lived in Kalamazoo, and he----"

"You go!" said Mark. "I'll make you my amba.s.sador to keep you quiet. Or at least you can tell your stories to the enemy. Hurry up now!"

Dewey arose from his seat and prepared to start upon his errand. Texas was on his feet in an instant.

"Naow look a yere, Mark!" he cried. "Why kain't I go? I want some fun, too. You wouldn't let me go that time to Billy Williams!"

"I won't let you go now for the same reason," laughed Mark. "You'd be in a free-for-all fight in half a minute yourself. You go ahead, Dewey.

Tell Mr. Wright that I demand an apology or else that he name the time and place. Throw in a few 'b'gees' for good measure, tell him a yarn or two, and make yourself charming and agreeable and handsome as usual.

Tra, la, la."

Dewey tossed him an effusive kiss by way of thanks for the compliment, and then vaulted over the embankment and set out for camp, marching right merrily to the tune of "The Girl I Left Behind Me," hands at the side, chest out, palms to the front, little fingers on the seams of the trousers!

The remainder of the Banded Seven waited in considerable anxiety for the return of the "amba.s.sador." They were one and all of them interested in their leader and hero; his triumph was theirs and theirs his.