On Guard Part 6

Whoop!"

"I think," laughed Mark, "I shall have to go around and carry this news to Grace Fuller."

That remark started Texas on another speech no less vehement.

"I tell you, sah, she's a treasure!" he vowed. "Jes' think of a girl that had sense enough to think up that air scheme fo' firin' the gun an'

nerve enough to offer to do it, too. An' she's jined with us to bust them ole yearlings. Whoop! It's all on account o' Mark, though."

"Yea, by Zeus," put in the Parson, gravely. "As I have said before, our friend is much smitten, and she likewise. I do not blame her, since he saved her life."

A rattle of drums interrupted the conversation just then, summoning the plebes to drill. Mark alone had an hour of leisure, he having been on guard duty, and during that hour having secured a permit, he set out for the hotel in search for the object of all their talk.

Grace Fuller was sitting on the piazza as he approached. She was dressed in white and the color just seemed to set off the brightness and beauty of her complexion. She greeted her friend with one of her pleasant smiles that seemed to make every one near her feel happy.

"Come up and sit down," she said. "I've been waiting for you all morning. I'm just dying to have some one to talk to about our adventure last night."

Mark ascended the steps with alacrity and took a seat. And for the next half hour the two talked about nothing else but their glorious triumph, and the way they had fooled everybody, and how mad the commandant was, and how puzzled the cadets.

"I suppose you noticed," said the girl, "that George was about two minutes late? Well, it seems there were two people sitting on one of the guns, and he didn't know what to do. He waited and waited, and finally crept up and lit the fuse and ran. The gun went off while those two were sitting on it."

There was a hearty laugh over this rather ludicrous picture.

And then a few moment's silence, during which the girl gazed thoughtfully into s.p.a.ce.

"I've got something important to tell you, by the way," she said, suddenly. "Last night the cadets all thought one of themselves had played the joke. Well, it seems that they've found out since."

"They have! How do you know?"

"I was talking to Corporal Jasper this morning. Jasper's a mighty nice boy, only he thinks he's a man. All the yearlings are that way, so pompous and self-conscious! I think plebes are delicious for a change. I told Mr. Jasper that and he didn't like it a bit. Anyhow, they must have inquired among themselves and found out that n.o.body in their cla.s.s had anything to do with it. For the 'corporal'--ahem!--was pretty sure you were the guilty one, and he said the cla.s.s was mad as hops about it."

"That's good," laughed Mark, rubbing his hands gleefully. "Perhaps we'll have some fun now."

"You will. That's just the point. I don't know that I ought to tell you this, but I didn't promise Mr. Jasper I wouldn't, and I suppose my duties as a member of the Seven are paramount to all others."

"Yes," responded Mark, "we'll expel you if you play us false. But don't keep me in suspense. What's all this about?"

"I like to get you excited," laughed the girl, teasingly. "I think I'll hold off a while so as to be sure you're interested, so as to make you realize the importance of what I have to say. For you must know that this is a really important plot that I've discovered, a plot that will----"

"I think it is going to rain," remarked the cadet, gazing off dreamily into s.p.a.ce. "I hope it will not, because it is liable to damage the corn crop, the farmers say that----"

"I'll give up," laughed the girl. "I'll tell you right away. You are to be on sentry duty to-night, aren't you?"

"Yes," said Mark, "I am. I wouldn't be here now if I were not."

"And your post is No. 3, isn't it?"

"Yes! How did you know?"

"All this is what my small boy friend the corporal told me. You see that my information comes right from headquarters. I suppose you know that Post No. 3 runs along Fort Clinton ditch."

"But what's that got to do with the plot?" cried Mark.

"Everything. The plot is to 'dump' you, as the slang has it."

"Dump me?"

"Yes; take away your gun and roll you head over heels into the mud."

"Oh!" responded Mark, thoughtfully, "I see. Take my gun away and roll me head over heels into the mud. Well, well!"

There was a silence for a few moments after that during which Mark tapped the chair reflectively.

"Are you going to let them do it?" inquired Grace at last.

"From what you know of me," inquired he, "do you suppose I will?"

"Hardly."

"And I won't, either. I think the yearlings that try it will have some fun. I only hope there are enough of them."

"There will be," said the girl. "There'll be three."

"I'm very glad you told me," said Mark, "very. I'm beginning to perceive that our ally will be a very serviceable ally indeed."

"She will be faithful anyway," said the girl. "The Daughters of the Revolution always are. She has a debt of grat.i.tude to pay to the chief rebel which she will not very soon forget; and she hopes he will not, either."

Whereupon Mark bowed and arose to take his leave.

"I must get back to camp," he explained, "to tell the Seven about this new plan. We shall find a way to circ.u.mvent it, I think; we always do.

And I'll promise you that the yearlings who 'dump' me will have a very lively evening of it. Good-by."

And Mark left.

Now it must be explained that the plebes had lately been given guns.

The instruction in marching, halting, etc., which they had gotten in barracks was supplemented by all sorts of evolutions, and by drill in the manual of arms.

This latter of course necessitated guns; and great was the joy of the ambitious and warlike plebe on the momentous day that "guns" were given out. The guns were regulation army muskets, heavy beyond imagination. So the plebe soon wished he hadn't wished for them. Besides drilling with them, which he found harder work than digging trenches, he had to clean them daily; and cleaning a gun under the watchful eye of a merciless yearling proved to be a matter of weeping and gnashing of teeth. It had to be done; for he had a number on his gun, so that he couldn't steal his neighbor's well-cleaned one; and if his own wasn't clean he got into trouble at the very next inspection.

Besides the three drills a day, there were other duties galore. There was policing twice a day, "policing" meaning the sweeping clean of the acre or two of ground within the limits of Camp McPherson. Then also there was "guard-mounting."

Guard-mounting is the daily ceremony of placing the sentries about the camp; the cadets who go on duty then remain until the following morning.

This ceremony has already been described within the pages of this series; it will have much to do with our present story.

The plebes of course were not put on guard until they had been fairly well trained in other duties. They had to know how to march, halt, salute, present arms, etc. Also they had to be accoutered in their dress uniforms, which were issued about this time.

Mark Mallory had been notified to report for guard duty that morning, greatly to the joy of his friends, the Seven, who had rubbed and polished him till he shone. He had "fallen in" at the summons and received a long and appalling list of instructions from his corporal.

Then he had been put on Post No. 3 for his first tour of duty.