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

"Yes," nodded Greg. "There's no regulation against a cadet becoming engaged to a girl. The regulation only forbids him to marry while he's a cadet."

"Now, a fellow like one of us either goes so far, in his lonesomeness, that he's grateful to a bright girl for cheering him and imagines he's in love with her; or else he finds that the girl thought he was in love with her, and she expects him to propose. Greg, I don't want to make any mistakes that way. It's easy for a cadet to capture the average girl's heart; it's his uniform, I suppose, for women always have been weak when uniforms enveloped fellows who otherwise wouldn't attract their notice. Greg, I wonder how many cadets have been lonesome enough to propose to some girl, and afterwards find out it was all a mistake? And how many girls fall in love with the uniform, thinking all the while that it's the fellow in the uniform? How many cadets and girls recover from the delusion only in after years when it's too late. I tell you, Greg, when a fellow gets into this cadet life, I think the practice of going too often to a hop may be dangerous for cadets and girls alike!

"I'll get cold feet if I listen to you long," laughed yearling Holmes grimly. "I wonder if I'd better pull these gloves off and stay where I am?"

"I didn't have any idea of seeking to persuade you," Dick replied. "If you feel proof against the danger, run right over to Cullum and enjoy yourself."

"I was just thinking," mused Greg, "of a promise you and Dave
Darrin made some girls back in Gridley."

"I remember that promise," nodded Dick.

"You and Darrin promised Laura Bentley and Belle Meade that you'd each invite them to hops, you to West Point and Dave to Annapolis, just as soon as either one of you had a right to attend hops."

"I know," nodded Prescott.

Greg was silent. After a few moments Dick ventured:

"Greg, I kept that promise the day we moved into encampment—-the first day that I was a yearling."

"Oh! Are Laura and Belle coming on West Point soon?" Holmes asked eagerly.

"I don't know. I'll be mighty glad when I do know. But undoubtedly Darrin has invited them to Annapolis, too. Now, it may be that, even if the girls can get away to travel a bit, they can't go to West Point and to Annapolis in the same season. So the girls may be trying to make up their minds—-which."

"I hope they come here," murmured Holmes fervently.

"So do I," Prescott replied promptly.

"Dick—-do you—-mind if I ask a question," demanded Greg slowly.

"No," smiled Dick, "for I think I know what it is."

"Are you—-is Laura—-I mean——-"

"You wonder whether Laura and I had any understanding before I left Gridley? That's what you want to know?"

"That is what I was wondering."

"There is no understanding between us—not the least," Prescott replied. "I don't know whether Laura would consent to one, now or later. I don't know myself yet, either, Greg. I want to wait until I have grown some in mind. Laura Bentley is such a magnificent girl that it would be a crime to make any mistake either as to her feelings or mine."

"Do you think good old Dave and Belle Meade had any understanding before Dave left Gridley?"

"Dave went away after we did," Prescott answered. "So I can't be sure. But I don't believe Dave and Belle are pledged in any way."

"Funny game, the whole thing!" sighed Greg, rising. He had drawn off one of his white lisle-thread gloves, but now he was engaged in putting it on again.

"Confidence deserves to be paid in the same coin, Greg," warned his chum. "Did you leave any girl—-back in Gridley—-or elsewhere."

"Dick, old ramrod," replied Cadet Holmes, frankly, as he finished drawing on his glove, "I'm unpledged, and, to the best of my belief, I'm wholly heart free."

"Look out that you keep so for two or three years more, then," laughed Dick, and Holmes, nodding lightly, strode away.

Despite the hop, there were some visitors in camp that evening. Dick was presently invited over to join a group that was entertaining three college boys who had dropped off at West Point for two or three days.

Greg spent an hour or so at the hop. He was introduced to Miss Wilton, a pretty, black-eyed little girl, and danced one number with her. He presently secured another partner. But too many of the cadets were "stagging it" that night. There were not feminine partners enough to go around.

"My cue is to cut out, I guess," mused Greg, finding himself near the entrance to the ballroom.

Once outside, Greg drew off his gloves, thrusting them in under the breast of his gray uniform coat. He wasn't quite decided whether to go back to Cullum later. But at present he wanted to stroll in the dark and to think.

"I reckon I'll take Dick's line of philosophy, and cut girls a good deal," decided Greg. "Yet, at West Point in the summer, it's either girls or mischief. Mischief, if carried too far, gets a fellow bounced out of the Academy, while girls—-I wonder which is safer?"

Still guessing, Cadet Holmes wandered a good way from Cullum Hall, and was not again seen that night on the polished dancing floor.

* * * * * * * *

Anstey had gone visiting some other yearlings. Dick, after leaving the college boys and their hosts, felt that a slow stroll outside of camp would be one of the pleasantest ways of passing the time until taps at 10.30. Even after the rain, the night was close and sultry.

"Don't you sing, Prescott?" called a first classman as Dick passed near the head of the color line. "Some of our glee-club fellows are getting together to try some old home songs."

But Dick shook his head. Though he possessed a fair voice, the singing of sentimental or mournful ditties was not in his line that night. He heard the strumming of guitars and mandolins as he left camp behind.

Dick did not hurry, even to get away from the music. He kept on up the road, and by the hotel, but was careful not to enter the grounds, though three or four yearlings called gayly to him from the hotel veranda. He had no permission for tonight to visit the hotel.

"I'm not going to get into a row with the K.C. for a stupid little violation like that," he muttered.

Presently Dick's stroll took him over in the neighborhood of "Execution Hollow," the depression in the ground below where the reveille gun is stationed.

Suddenly Dick halted, an amused look creeping into his face.

"Now, who'd suspect good old Greg of getting into sheer mischief, all by himself?" the class president asked himself.

For Holmes was bending a bit low, a hundred yards or so away, and stealing toward the fieldpiece that does duty as reveille gun.

"It would be a shame to bet on what Greg's up to—-it would be too easy!" muttered Prescott, standing behind a flowering bush at the road's edge. "Greg is going to load the reveille gun, attach a long line to the firing cord, and rig it across the path here, so that some 'dragger,' coming back from seeing his 'femme' home, will trip over the cord and fire the gun. The dragger can't be blamed for what he didn't do on purpose, and cute little Greg will be safe in his tent. But if Greg should happen to be caught it might mean the bounce from the Academy! And, oh, wow!"

Cadet Prescott's heart seemed to stop beating. Glancing down the road he saw a man standing, there, in the olive drab uniform of the Army officer. Captain Bates, of the tactical department, was quietly watching unsuspecting Cadet Holmes.

As has been said, Cadet Prescott felt as though his heart had stopped beating.

In another instant mischievous Cadet Holmes would actually be slipping a shell into the reveille gun, if it were not already loaded, and then attaching a cord, to lay a trap for some other unsuspicious cadet.

Captain Bates, who was quietly looking on, would have Mr. Holmes red handed.

Charges would be preferred. Undoubtedly Greg would soon be journeying homeward, his dream of the Army over.

Dick could not call out and warn Greg.

That would be a breach of discipline that would recoil surely upon Mr. Prescott's head, making him equally guilty with his chum.

Yet, to see Greg walk unsuspectingly into the "tac.'s" hands in this fashion! It was not to be thought of.

For two or three seconds all manner thoughts played through Dick's mind.

But, no matter what happened to him, loyalty would not allow him to stand by a mere mute spectator of Greg's downfall.

Prescott felt sure that he himself had not yet been seen by the
Army officer.

Slipping out from behind the bush, Cadet Prescott stepped briskly along the path, bringing one hand sharply to his cap in salute.

"Captain Bates, have I your permission to speak, sir?"

Dick Prescott's voice, though not unduly loud, carried like a pistol shot to Greg's alert ears.

Young Mr. Holmes did not immediately change his course, start or do anything else that would betray alarm. Yet, ere Captain Bates's voice could be heard in reply, Greg had swung slowly around, and he came toward the path.

"Permission is granted, Mr. Prescott," replied Captain Bates—-but, oh, how coldly he spoke.

The Army officer seemed trying to look Mr. Prescott through and through, for Bates thoroughly suspected Dick of a bold stroke to save his friend from watchful tac. eyes.

"There was a question that came up among some of the yearlings in camp today, sir," Dick went on, very respectfully. "I found myself ignorant, as were some of the others, as to the correct answer to the question. As you are the officer in charge of the encampment, I have made bold, sir, to ask you the answer."

"Is it a matter relating directly to military tactics or discipline,
Mr. Prescott?" asked Captain Bates, speaking as coldly as before.

"Indirectly, sir, I think."

"Then state the question, Mr. Prescott."

Greg, having reached the path, halted at attention several yards away from his bunkie.

"The question that came up, sir," continued Dick, and he was speaking the truth, for the question had been discussed, "is whether there is any regulation, or any tacit rule that requires a cadet of the upper classes to attend any stated number of hops in the season, or during the year?

"No cadet, Mr. Prescott, is required to attend any hop unless he so elects. The single exception would be that any cadet, having once made an engagement to attend a hop, would be bound by his word to attend, unless he had received proper release from that engagement. Such release, in nearly all instances, would come from the young woman whom the cadet had invited to attend a hop with him."

"Thank you, sir." Again Dick saluted very respectfully.

"Any other questions, Mr. Prescott?"

"No, sir."

Dick saluted carefully. Captain Bates returned the salute, and turned to go.

Cadet Holmes, waiting until he found himself once more in range of the tactical officer's vision, raised his hand to his cap in very correct salute. This salute, also, Captain Bates returned, and then strode on toward camp.

"You came near missing me, Holmesy," Dick remarked carelessly and in a low voice, though he felt very certain that his tone overtook the departing tac.

In silence, at first, Greg and Dick turned and walked in the opposite direction together.

"Going to load the signal gun, eh, Greg!" chaffed Prescott.

"Yes," confessed white-faced Holmes, a quiver in his voice.

"It's a childish sport, and a dangerous one. Better leave it to the fellows who are tired of being at West Point," advised Dick quietly.

"Oh, what a debt I owe