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

Bert Dodge saw, from a distance, the whispered talk between Dick and Mr. Furlong; he also saw the latter's quick, stealthy glance.

Now, Dodge, from having tried to visit Furlong the night before, knew that the young man had returned from the hop, for he had seen Furlong go into his tent shortly after ten. Dodge also knew that Furlong had been absent from camp at the time of the monument discharges.

"Furlong is one of the offenders," thought Bert, "and Prescott is roasting him about it. I suppose our highly conceited class president thinks it his place to lecture all the jokers in the class. But how would it be possible, without getting myself into trouble, to pass on the hint that Prescott knows more than he is telling?"

It didn't take a fellow with all of Cadet Dodge's natural meanness very long to invent a plan that looked feasible.

Sauntering along near the guard tent, Dodge encountered a classmate with whom he was on fairly good terms, Mr. Harper, who was waiting to fall in when the next relief of the guard was called.

"Prescott was on the grill last night, I hear," began Bert.

"So I hear," nodded Harper.

"I guess he dodged the O.C. cold," chuckled Dodge.

"He denied any knowledge of the monument business, I've heard," replied Harper.

Bert chuckled.

"That sounds like old Prescott," laughed Bert. "And I'll bet he managed it without telling any lies. I know Prescott of old. Our family once lived in the same town with him, you know. Prescott was one of the biggest jokers in our High School. And he never got caught in those days. Prescott was always the artful dodger."

"What do you mean by that!" asked Harper. "You don't mean that
Prescott is untruthful."

"Oh, no, not at all," laughed Bert. "But, if I could put him on the rack, and get the whole thing, unreservedly, out of Richard Prescott, I'd be willing to bet, in advance, that he knows just who set off the cannon crackers last night."

Dodge was careful not to speak so that he could be overheard by Prescott or Furlong, yet he was certain that, on the still morning air around the guard tent, his voice was carrying sufficiently to penetrate to the other side of the khaki walls of the O.C.'s tent.

"Prescott is the clever one, and the loyal one to all but tacs.," laughed Bert to Harper, as he strolled away. Dodge hoped that the O.C. was in his tent.

It is true—-Captain Bates was there. Having drawn the flap, and being in the act of enjoying his morning newspaper, the O.C. heard.

"Hang it, I felt last night that, while answering me truthfully,
Mr. Prescott was proving the possession of sufficient cleverness
to keep me off the monument trail, just as he foiled my catching
Mr. Holmes," mused the O.C. "And I said as much last night to
Colonel Strong."

At that moment the flap of the tent was lifted and the K.C. returned the salute of his subordinate, who had promptly leaped to his feet.

In a few swift, low words, Captain Bates repeated the conversation he had just overheard.

"That bears out what you thought last night, Bates," rejoined the K.C. "I think there is nothing for it but to have Mr. Prescott in here and put him on the wheel again. Rack him, Bates!"

"I've just time, Colonel to catch Mr. Prescott before the drill squads go out. Corporal of the guard!" hailed the O.C., looking out from his tent.

In another moment a very erect young member of the guard was striding around the head of the encampment, and then down one of the company streets. Dick, in front of his tent, in field uniform, received the summons and responded at once.

"Caught him!" quivered Bert Dodge. "No if that infernal humbug will get hot-headed and answer the O.C. rashly, there may be something good coming in the punishment line! It would be a source of wild joy if I could get Dick Prescott on the wrong flank with the tacs.!"

The instant that Dick reported, and found himself in the presence of his two inquisitors of the night before, he knew that some hint of his new knowledge must have reached the tactical department.

"Mr. Prescott, last night," began Captain Bates, "you denied absolutely having any knowledge as to the persons who set off firecrackers near Battle Monument."

"Yes, sir."

"I have since gained good reason to think," went on the O.C., "that you know who at least one of the perpetrators was."

Mr. Prescott remained silent.

"Why do you not reply, Mr. Prescott?"

"I didn't understand, sir, that you had asked me a question."

Captain Bates flushed. He hadn't asked a question, in question form, and he saw how neatly this cadet had "caught" him. But that only served to increase the suspicion of both officers present that Mr. Prescott was a very clever witness who was successfully contriving to keep something back.

"Mr. Prescott, do you now know who was responsible for the monument affair of last night?" insisted the O.C.

"I don't know sir," replied Dick, putting all proper emphasis on the word.

"Yet you suspect?"

"I suspect one man, sir," Dick responded without attempt at concealment.

"Is the one you suspect a cadet?"

"Yes, sir."

"His name?" broke in Lieutenant Colonel Strong.

Dick Prescott whitened a bit. He knew the chances he was taking now, but he replied, in a clear, steady voice:

"I very respectfully decline to answer, sir!"

"For what reason, sir?" demanded the K.C. sharply.

Prescott opened his mouth, closed it again, without speaking, then at last asked slowly:

"Sir, may I state my reasons in my own way?"

"Proceed, Mr. Prescott."

"My suspicion concerning a certain man, sir, does not cover a really direct suspicion that he had a hand in the affair. His remark led me only to infer that the man was present."

"That does not tell me, Mr. Prescott, why you have refused to answer the question that I put to you," insisted Colonel Strong.

"My reason, sir, for respectfully declining to answer is twofold: First, I do not know whether I am legally required to state a suspicion only. My second reason, sir, is that to state the name of the man I suspect would make me, in my own eyes, and in the eyes of my comrades, a tale-bearer."

Since the K.C. had started this line of questioning, Captain Bates remained silent. So, too, did the K.C. for some moments after Dick had finished.

It was the first problem that faced the tactical officers—-much harder one than it would considered in civilian life.

In the first place, it is one of the highest West Point ideals never to treat a cadet with even a trace of injustice. The young man who is being trained to be an officer, and who will, in time, be placed over other men, above all must be just. In no other way can the cadet learn as much about justice as by being treated with it.

As is the case with an accused man in the civil courts, no cadet may be forced to testify in way that would incriminate himself. When it comes to testifying against another the question has two aspects.

The tale-bearer, the informer, is not appreciated in the military world. He is loathed there, as in civil life. Yet the refusal of one cadet to testify against another might be carried, insolently, to the point of insubordination. So, when a cadet, under questioning, refuses to give evidence incriminating another cadet, his reason may be accepted; or, if it appear best to the military authorities, he may be warned that his reason is not sufficient, and then, if he still refuses to answer, he may be proceeded against as for disobedience of orders.

It is a fine point. The K.C. found it so at this moment. Dick Prescott stood rigidly at attention, a fine, soldierly looking young fellow. His face, his eyes, had all the stamp of truth and manliness. Yet the suspicion had arisen with these two tacs. that Mr. Prescott was a young man who was extremely clever in giving truthful answers that shielded offending cadets.

"You have stated your position unreservedly and exactly, Mr.
Prescott?" inquired Colonel Strong at last.

"Yes, sir."

"You are certain that you have not more than the merest suspicion of the cadet off whom you have been speaking?

"I am absolutely certain, sir."

"How does it happen, Mr. Prescott, that you have this suspicion, and absolutely nothing more?"

A cadet is not permitted to hesitate. He must answer not only truthfully, but instantly. So Dick looked the K.C. full in the eyes as answered:

"A cadet, sir, started to say something, and I shut him up."

"Because you did not wish to know more?"

"Yes, sir," Prescott admitted honestly.

Captain Bates fidgeted almost imperceptibly; in other words, as much as a military man may. There were a few questions that he wanted to ask this cadet. But it was Bates's superior officer who was now doing the questioning.

The K.C. remained silent for perhaps half a minute. Then he said:

"That is all, at present, Mr. Prescott."

Saluting the K.C., Dick next made a slight turn which brought him facing Captain Bates, whom he also saluted. Both officers returned his salute. Dick wheeled and marched from the tent.

As he passed through the camp the cadet face had in it a soldierly inexpressiveness. Even Bert Dodge, who covertly scanned Prescott from a distance, could not guess the outcome of the "grilling."

"May I ask, Colonel, weather you agree with my opinion of Mr.
Prescott?" inquired Captain Bates.

"Your idea that he is an artful dodger?"

"Yes, sir."

"If he is," replied Lieutenant Colonel Strong, "then the young man is so very straightforwardly artful that he is likely to give us a mountain of mischief to handle before he is brought to book."

"If I can catch him at anything by fair means," ventured Captain
Bates, "then I am going to do it."

"You are suspicious of Mr. Prescott?"

"Why, I like the young man thoroughly, sir; but I believe that, if we do not find a means of curbing him, this summer's encampment will be a season of unusual mischief and sly insubordination."

Perhaps there was something of a twinkle in Colonel Strong's eye as he rose to leave the tent.

"If you do catch Mr. Prescott, Bates, I shall be interested in knowing the particulars promptly."

Dick returned to his tent to find his bunkies gone to drills. The summons before the O.C. had relieved Prescott from the first period of drill.

On Dick's wardrobe box lay two letters that the mail orderly had left for him.

Both bore the Gridley postmark. The home-hungry cadet pounced upon both of them, seating himself and examining the handwriting of the addresses.

One letter was from his mother. Cadet Prescott opened that first. It was a lengthy letter. The young man ran through the pages hurriedly, to make sure that all was well with his parents.

Now Dick held up the other letter. This also was addressed in a feminine hand—-as most of a cadet's mail is. It was a small, square envelope, without crest or monogram, but the paper and cut were scrupulously good and fine. It was the kind of stationery that would be used by girl brought up in a home of refined surroundings.

Dick broke the seal with a consciousness of a little thrill that he had not felt in opening his mother's letter. Dick did not have to look for the signature; he knew the penmanship.

"My Dear Mr. Prescott," began the letter. ("Hm!" muttered the reader. "It used to be 'Dick'")

"Your note came as a delightfully pleasant surprise," Dick read on ("Now, I wonder why it should have been a surprise? Great Scott! Now, I come to think of it, I hadn't written her before since last February!")

"Of course we are going to drop all other plans for a flying visit to West Point," the letter ran on. "Belle is simply delighted with the idea.