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Dick Prescott's Fourth Year at West Point, a fiction by H. Irving Hancock |
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Chapter 7. Jordan Meets Disaster |
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_ CHAPTER VII. JORDAN MEETS DISASTER Belle, with her combination of impulsive temperament, good judgment and bluntness, came to the temporary rescue. "Greg is trying to conceal the fact that he'll have a desperate rush to get into his dress uniform in time for parade," Miss Meade interposed. "Anyway, there's far more about this matter than we can understand in a moment. Greg, you and Dick can call on us at the hotel this evening, can't you?" "We most surely can." "Then come, as early as you can. We'll eat the earliest dinner we can get there, and be prepared for a long evening. Now, hurry to your tent, for I don't want to see you reported for being late at formation." Between her visits to West Point, and her trips to Annapolis to see Dave Darrin, as related in the Annapolis Series, Belle had by this time a very considerable knowledge of formations, and of other incidents in the lives of Army and Navy cadets. "This evening, then," replied Greg, shifting his campaign hat to the other hand and feeling like a man who has secured a reprieve. "And give my love to Dick," Belle went on hastily, "and tell him that the President of the United States couldn't, if he wanted to, change our opinion of dear old Dick in the least." "Thank you," bowed Greg, gratitude welling up in his heart. "And you send him your love, don't you, Laura?" insisted Belle swiftly. Laura recoiled quickly, flushing violently. It was all right for Belle Meade to send her "love" to Prescott, for they were old friends, and Belle was known to be Dave Darrin's loyal sweetheart. With Laura the situation was painfully different. She and Dick had been schoolboy and schoolgirl sweethearts, after a fashion, but Dick had never openly declared his love for her. Would he misunderstand, and think her unwomanly? She trembled with the sudden doubt at the thought. Besides, another, a prosperous young merchant back in Gridley, had been ardent in his attentions to Miss Bentley. "Of course Laura sends her love," broke in Greg promptly. "Who wouldn't, when the dear old fellow is in such a scrape? And I'll deliver the message of love from you both---and from Mrs. Bentley, too?" Greg looked inquiringly, but expectantly at Laura's mother, who nodded and smiled in ready sympathy. Then Greg made his best soldier's bow and hastened off to his chum, whose heart he succeeded in gladdening somewhat while the two made all haste to get ready for parade call. When the corps marched on to the field that afternoon, Mrs. Bentley and the girls were there among the eager spectators. Dick saw them almost instantly, and his heart bounded within him. It was Laura's mute message of sympathy and hope to him! He held up his head higher, if that were possible, and went through every movement with even more than his usual precision. As the corps was marching off the field again, however, Dick's heart sank rapidly within him. "If I have to leave the Army, I can never ask Laura for her love," he groaned wretchedly. "If I go from West Point as anything but a graduate and an officer, I shall have to start life all over again. It will take me years to find my place and get solidly on my feet I could never ask a girl to wait as long as that!" In the early evening Laura, Belle and Mrs. Bentley were on the veranda near the hotel entrance. Cadets Jordan and Douglass made their appearance. Jordan had obtained official permission to present Douglass to his sister, who was to go to the hop that evening. "By Jove, there's a spoony femme (pretty girl) over there," breathed Jordan in Douglass' ear. "You don't happen to know her, do you?" "Why, yes, that's Miss Bentley, and the other is Miss Meade. The chaperon is Miss Bentley's mother," replied Cadet Douglass. "You know them?" throbbed Jordan, his eyes resting eagerly on Laura's face. "What luck! Present me, old chap!" So Douglass, who, in some respects, had a bad memory, piloted his classmate over to the ladies and halted. "Good evening, ladies," greeted Douglass, raising his uniform cap in his most polished manner. "Mrs. Bentley, Miss Bentley, Miss Meade, will you permit me to present my friend and classmate Mr. Jordan?" Belle, who was nearest, bowed and held out her hand. But Laura drew herself up haughtily. "Mr. Douglass," she answered coldly, "my apologies to you, but I don't wish to know---Mr. Jordan!" Belle caught the name again, and remembered. "Oh!" she cried, snatching her hand away ere Jordan could touch it. "I'm sorry, ladies," stammered Douglass. But they found themselves confronted by rear views of two shapely pairs of young shoulders, while Mrs. Bentley had the air of looking through the young men without being able to see either. Two very much disconcerted cadets, and very red in the face, stiffly resumed their caps and marched away. "Great Scott, what did that mean?" gasped Jordan, struck all in a heap by his strange reception. Cadet Douglass gasped. "Jordan," he exclaimed contritely, "I'm the greatest ass in the corps!" "You must be!" exploded Dick's enemy. "But what was the cause of it all?" "Why, Jordan, you---you see-----" "Who is Miss Bentley?" "Jordan, she's Prescott's girl!" "What?" gasped the other cadet, staring at his classmate. "Fact!" "Prescott's---girl?" "Yes." "Jove, a puppy like Prescott has no business with a superb girl like that." "All the same, Jordan, the fact will prevent you from knowing her." "Now, I'm not so sure of that!" cried Jordan suddenly, with strange fire in his eyes. "What do you mean?" "Oh, nothing," mumbled Jordan, suddenly recovering himself. Then, under his breath, he chuckled gleefully: "Miss Bentley is just struck on the uniform, of course. A girl like that couldn't care for a misfit like Prescott. Well, he won't be in the uniform much longer. I won't lose sight of Miss Bentley. I'll find her again when Prescott is out of the uniform for good!" Now, aloud, he asked: "Doug, do you happen to remember Miss Bentley's first name?" "Larry," answered Cadet Douglass absently. "Stop that!" cried Jordan almost fiercely. "Oh, a thousand pardons, Jordan. I'm so rattled I don't know what I'm doing or saying. The girl's first name is Laura. Peach, isn't she?" "Laura! That's a sweet name," murmured Jordan to himself. His mind was now running riot, not only with plans to drive Dick Prescott out of the Army, but also to win the heart of Laura Bentley. "Hold on, Jord," begged Douglass, halting and leaning against a post in the veranda structure. "Don't take me to your sister just yet. Let me get my breath, my nerves, my wits back again." "Take an hour," advised Jordan laconically. "You need it. Didn't you know Miss Bentley was Prescott's girl?" "Yes; but it had slipped my memory. It's mighty hard, when you come to think of it, to remember the girls of so many hundreds of fellows," explained Cadet Douglass plaintively. Ten minutes later Dick and Greg appeared, greeting the ladies. Mrs. Bentley assented to their going around to the north side of the porch, whence they could look up the river to the lights of Newburgh. "We very nearly had an adventure, Dick," laughed Belle. "Yes?" "We very nearly shook hands with Mr. Jordan. It was Laura's quick cry that saved me, just in the nick of time, from touching hands with the fellow." Miss Meade then related their experience, and the discomfiture of Cadets Douglass and Jordan. "That's just about like Doug," observed Greg Holmes. "I'll bet he never thought until Laura called off the signal for the kick." "What's that?" demanded Miss Bentley. "Pardon me," apologized Greg. "I think in football terms altogether too often. But I'm glad Jordan saw the goal and then lost it." "I think Dick wants to tell us something about the fellow Jordan, and some of the other cadets," Belle hinted. Between them the chums told the story of how the "silence" had come to be imposed. Prescott did not, however, tell his feminine visitors how he had happened to catch Jordan outside the guard line. "How did that happen?" asked Laura innocently. "Now, I'd tell you before I would any one else on earth," protested Dick with warmth, "but I haven't told Greg or anyone else. I had good military reasons, not personal ones." "Oh!" replied Laura. And, not understanding, she felt more than a little hurt by Dick's failure to answer frankly. Both girls, however, talked very comfortingly, and Mrs. Bentley very sensibly aided their efforts. All three tried to make it quite plain to Dick Prescott that no amount, or consequence, of lack of understanding by his classmates could make any difference with his standing in their eyes. Presently Mrs. Bentley consented to the girls strolling down the road between the hotel and cadet barracks. Dick, of course, walked with Laura, while Greg and Belle remained at a discreet, out-of-earshot distance. At last they stood again by the gateway through the shrubbery at the edge of the hotel grounds. "Dick-----" began Laura hesitatingly. "Yes?" asked the young cadet captain. "Dick, no matter how far your classmates push this matter," begged Laura, her eyes big and earnest, "don't let their acts force you out of the Army. No matter what happens---stick!" Cadet Prescott shook his head wearily. "I can't stick," he replied firmly, "if I am shown that my presence in the Army is not going to be for the good and the harmony of the service!" Laura sighed. Another keen pang of disappointment, was hers. She now believed that her influence over Dick Prescott was not anywhere near as strong as she had hoped it would be. A very wretched girl rested her head on a pillow that night, and slept but poorly. In the forenoon, while the corps was absent on an infantry practice march, Laura, her mother and her friend went dejectedly away from West Point. _ |
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