Dick Prescott's Second Year at West Point by H. Irving Hancock (ereader with android .txt) 📕

There was a chorus of laughter, and two or three applauded.

"I did—-admit it," bellowed Greg. "But you stand there and admit the whole shameful truth about the time that you——-"

"Attention!" called Kelton, turning, then recognizing Lieutenant
Topham and saluting. "The officer in charge!"

On the jump every yearling inside turned and stood rapidly at attention.

"Gentlemen, I'm sorry to have spoiled the show," laughed Lieutenant Topham. He had seen the shadows of Briggs and Ellis on the canvas, and had expected to drop in upon a different scene. But now this tac. was wholly disarmed. He honestly believed that he had stumbled upon a party of yearlings having a good time with a bit of nonsensical dialogue.

"Mr. Prescott! Mr. Holmes!"

"Sir?" answered both yearlings, saluting.

"I will suggest that you two might work up the act you were just indulging in. You ought to raise a great laugh the next time a minstrel show is given by the cadets."

"Thank you, sir"—-from both "performers."

Lieutenant Topham turned and passed on down the company street.

The two expelled plebes, in the meantime, had a chance to slip off silently. Even had Briggs and Ellis been inclined to "show up" their hazers, they knew too well the fate that would await such a pair of plebes at the hands of the cadet corps.

"That shows how easily a suspicious man's eyes may deceive him," mused Lieutenant Topham as he walked along.

Kelton now allowed his gaze to follow the retreating O.C., while the yearlings in the tent stood in dazed silence. They were still panting over the narrow escape from a scrape that might have cost them their places on the roll of the battalion.

"Safe!" whispered Kelton. "You may thank your deliverers."

Then, indeed, the other yearlings pressed about Prescott and Holmes, hugging them and patting them extravagantly.

When Lieutenant Topham returned to his tent, he found Captain Bates there, with a visitor. By the time that he had stepped inside, Topham also discovered the presence of the K.C. likewise engaged.

"I've just had a good lesson in the pranks that a man's eyes and ears may play upon him," announced Topham, unbelting his sword.

Then he related, with relish, the occurrence at Dunstan's tent.

"Humph!" grunted Captain Bates. "You say Mr. Prescott was there?"

"Yes, Captain."

"Then, Topham, you didn't really see very much of what happened, after all," half jeered Captain Bates. "If Prescott was there, the crowd had a plebe on hand, depend on it."

"But I would have seen the plebe."

"Not when you have to contend with a man like Mr. Prescott! If he had a tenth of a second's warning it would be enough for him to roll the plebe out at the back of the tent."

"Now, I think of it," confessed Lieutenant Topham slowly, "I think
I did hear a slight sound at the back of the tent."

"You didn't investigate that sound, Mr. Topham?"

"Why, no, sir. I thought I was looking at the whole show."

"Instead of which," chuckled Captain Bates, "you saw only the curtain that had just been rung down, and the author of the piece bowing to the audience."

"Well, I'll be—-switched!" ejaculated Mr. Topham, dropping into his chair.

"Mr. Prescott has the reputation of being the cleverest dodger in the yearling class," declared the K.C., in a dry voice. "It was Bates who first discovered that quality in Mr. Prescott, but I must admit that he has convinced me. Tomorrow a new cadet corporal will be appointed, and the fact published in orders. The new corporal takes the place of Corporal Ryder, who has been busted (reduced). Mr. Prescott would have been appointed corporal, but for his reputation for dodging out of the biggest scrapes of his class. So Mr. Dodge is to be the new cadet corporal."

"Oh, you sly old ramrod!" Dunstan was murmuring ecstatically, back in that other tent. "When I think of all the yearlings who've been dropped for hazing in past years! If each class had only had a Prescott all of those yearlings would have been saved to the service!"

But Dick, though he did not know it, had a reputation in the tac. department which had just prevented his attaining to the honor that he desired most—-appointment as cadet corporal.

Cadet Corporal Dodge took his new appointment as a triumph in revenge. Of late he had been growing even less popular. He determined to be a martinet with the men in ranks under him. He made the mistake that all petty, senseless tyrants do. The great disciplinarian is never needlessly a tyrant.

* * * * * * * *

The summer in camp passed quickly after July had gone.

In all, Miss Griffin made four visits to West Point that summer. Greg became her favored and eager escort, to the disappointment of fifty men who would have been glad to take his place.

Both Cadet Holmes and Mr. Griffin's very pretty sister kept up their attitudes of laughing challenge to each other throughout the summer. It was impossible to see that either had scored a deep impression on the other.

Not even to his chum did Greg confide whether Miss Griffin had caught his heart. Mr. Griffin, her brother, could hardly venture a guess to himself as to whether his sister cared for the tall and manly looking Holmes.

But when Miss Griffin had reached the end of her last summer visit to West Point she told Greg that she would not be there again for some time to come.

"At least," asked Greg, "you'll be here again when the winter hops start?"

"I cannot say," was all the reply Miss Adele Griffin would make.

"In three weeks she goes back to the seminary in Virginia," said
Griff, when Greg spoke to him about the matter. "Dell won't see
West Point before next summer. Our people are not rich enough
to keep Dell traveling all the time."

Whether Greg was crestfallen at the news no one knew. Greg had never believed, anyway, in wearing his heart on his sleeve—-"just for other folks to stick pins in it, you know," was his explanation.

There came the day when the furloughed second class marched over to camp. Very quickly after that all classes were back in cadet barracks, and the charming summer of Mars had given place to the hard fall, winter and spring of the academic grind.

The return to studies found both Greg and Dick forced to do some extra hard work. Mathematics for this year went "miles ahead" of anything that the former Gridley boys had encountered in High School. Had they been able to pursue this branch of study in the more leisurely and lenient way of the colleges, both young men might have stood well.

As it was, after the first fortnight Greg went to the "goats," or the lowest section in mathematics, while Dick, not extremely better off, hung only in the section above the goat line.

As the fall hops came on Greg went to about three out of every four.

"A fellow can bone until his brain is nothing but a mess of bone dust," he complained. "Dick, old chum, you'd better go to hops, too."

Dick went to only one, in October. He stagged it, whereas Greg often dragged. But Prescott saw no girl there who looked enough like Laura Bentley to interest him. His standing in class interested him far more than hops at which a certain Gridley girl could not be present.

Laura had written him that she and Belle might be at a hop early in December.

"I'll wait and look forward to it," decided Dick. But he said nothing, even to Greg. Holmes was showing an ability to be interested in too many different girls, Prescott decided.

But it may be that Holmes, knowing that Griffin corresponded with his pretty, black-eyed little sister, may have been intentionally furnishing subjects for the news that was despatched to a Virginia seminary.

"Come on, old ramrod," urged Greg one Saturday night, as he gave great heed to his dressing. "You'll bone yourself dry, staying here all the time with Smith's conic sections. Drop that dry math. rot and stag it with me over at Cullum tonight. You can take math. up again after chapel tomorrow."

"Thank you," replied Prescott, turning around from the study table at which he was seated. "I don't care much for the social whirl while there's any doubt about the January exams. It would be no pleasure to go over to Cullum. There'll be real satisfaction if I can look forward to better marking this coming week."

Dick spent his time until taps at the study table. But when he closed the book it was with a sigh of satisfaction.

"If I can only go through a few more nights as easily as I have tonight, I'll soon astound myself by maxing it" (making one of the highest marks), he told himself. "I think I'm beginning to see real light in conic sections, but I'll have the books out again tomorrow afternoon."

* * * * * * * *

"Well?" challenged Holmes gayly, as he entered their room after the hop.

"I believe I'm going to turn over a new leaf and max it some," grinned Prescott.

"Don't!" expostulated Greg, with a look of mock alarm.

The daily marks were not posted until the end of the academic week, but Prescott knew, when Monday's recitation in mathematics was over, that he had found new favor in the eyes of Captain Abbott, the instructor. On Tuesday again he was sure that he had landed another high mark.

Greg caught some of the fire of his chum's example, and he, too, began to bone so furiously that he decided to drop the hops for the time.

Wednesday again Dick marched back in mathematics section with a consciousness that he had not fumbled once in explaining the problem that he had been ordered to set forth the blackboard.

"I hear that you're going to graduate ahead of time, and be appointed professor in math.," grinned Greg.

"Well, I'm at least beginning to find out that some things are better than hops," laughed Dick happily. "Greg, if I can kill math. to my satisfaction this year, I shan't have another doubt about being able to get through and graduate here!"

It was the end of November by this time, and Dick, on Thursday of this successful week, received a letter to the effect that Laura and Belle would arrive at West Point on Saturday afternoon at one o'clock.

The news nearly broke up Prescott's three hours of study that Thursday evening. However, he fought off the feeling of excitement and hampering delight.

When Dick marched with his section into mathematics Friday morning he felt a calm confidence that he would keep up the average of his fine performance for the week.

"Mr. Furlong, Mr. Dunstan, Mr. Prescott and Mr. Gray, go to the blackboards," ordered Captain Abbott. "The other gentlemen will recite from their seats."

Stepping nimbly over to the blackboard, in one corner of which his name had been written, Dick picked up the chalk, setting down the preliminaries of the problem assigned to him. Then his chalk ran nimbly along over the first lines of his demonstration.

At last he stopped. Captain Abbott, who was generally accredited with possessing several pairs of eyes, noted that Mr. Prescott had halted.

For some moments the young man went anxiously over what he had already written. At last he turned around, facing the instructor, and saluted.

"Permission to erase, sir?" requested Prescott.,

Captain Abbott nodded his assent.

Picking up the eraser, Dick carefully erased the last two lines that he had set down.

Then, as though working under a new inspiration, he went ahead setting down line after line of the demonstration of this difficult problem. Only once did he halt, and then for not more than thirty seconds.