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Dick Prescott's Fourth Year at West Point, a fiction by H. Irving Hancock |
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Chapter 23. A West Pointer's Love Affair |
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_ CHAPTER XXIII. A WEST POINTER'S LOVE AFFAIR With beating heart Dick Prescott presented himself at the hotel that evening, and sent up his card to Mrs. Bentley and the girls. Greg was with his chum, of course, but Greg was not in a flutter. He was to escort Belle Meade---an arrangement of chumship, for Belle wore the engagement ring of Dave Darrin, one of Greg's old High School chums. For Dick, this was the night to which he had looked forward during four years. To-night he felt sure of his career; he was to be graduated into the Army, with a position in life fine enough for Laura to grace with him. It was on this night, that he had determined to find out whether her heart beat for him, or whether it had already been captured by young Mr. Cameron back in the home town. "And very likely she wouldn't think of having either of us," smiled Dick to himself. "It's easy enough for a girl to be a fellow's friend, but when it comes to selecting a husband she is quite likely to be more particular." It was just after dark as the two young couples sauntered away from the hotel on their way to Cullum Hall. "You young men are now sure of your Army careers," remarked Belle, as the four strolled down the road. "As absolutely sure as one can ever be of anything," Dick responded. "Yes, I feel positive that I am now to be an officer in the Army." "While poor Dave has just started on a two-year cruise, and must then come back for another examination before he is sure of his commission," sighed Belle. "The middies don't get a square deal," said Dick regretfully. "When Darrin and Dalzell were graduated, the other day, they should have been commissioned as ensigns before they were ordered to sea. Some day Congress and the people will see the injustice of it all, and the unfairness will be remedied." How could Prescott possibly know that his commission in the Army was not yet sure? That same sandy-bearded, bespectacled and stoop-shouldered ex-cadet Jordan was even now eyeing Dick from a little distance. "Humph! Prescott feels mighty big at this moment!" growled the young scoundrel. "I wonder how he'll be feeling at midnight, down in cadet hospital, when the surgeons tell him he has no chance of ever being a sound man again? Confound him! I could almost find it in my heart to kill the fellow, instead of merely maiming him. But maiming will be the keener revenge. All his life hereafter Prescott will be thinking what might have been if he hadn't met me this night! Shall I leap on him when he's coming back from the hotel, after the graduation ball? No; for he'd have Holmes with him then. I'll send in word and call him out from the ball, with a message that an old schoolmate wants to see him on something most urgent. I'll have Prescott to myself, and all I need is a few seconds. I'm half as powerful again as Prescott is!" Jordan was not at all lacking in a certain type of ferocious brute courage. As he had just boasted to himself, he was powerful enough to be able to overpower Dick in a hand-to-hand conflict, yet the scoundrel meant to attack Prescott unawares, without giving the latter a chance to defend himself. Then, too, the sight of Laura, looking sweeter and more beautiful than she had ever appeared in her life, goaded Jordan on to greater fury. "That is the very girl I had planned to cut Prescott out with, after he had been kicked from the service, and I was still in the uniform. But it fell out the other way about," gritted Jordan. "Prescott wears the uniform, and I've been dishonorably dropped from the rolls! Prescott, I've a double score to settle with you to-night!" But of all this, of course, Prescott was wholly unaware. "How much time have we to spare?" queried Dick, then glancing at his watch. "Ten minutes. Laura, will you stroll around the Hall with me and look down over the cliff at the noble old Hudson! This will be one of my last glimpses as a cadet." Laura assented. Greg was about to follow, when Belle Meade drew him back. "Take me inside," she urged. "I am eager to see the decorations." "But Dick and Laura?" queried Greg. "They're of age and can take care of themselves," smiled Miss Meade. Dick Prescott's heart was beating, now, like a trip-hammer. Even the next day's graduation, and the entrance into the Army looked insignificant to him compared with the question of his fate that was now seething in his brain and which he must now have settled. Two or three times he opened his lips to speak, then closed them, as the two young people stood glancing down at the river through the darkness. "Aren't you unusually silent, Dick?" asked Laura. "Perhaps so," he assented in a low voice. "I'm scared." "Scared!" "Yes; scared cold. I never knew such a fright in my life before." "Why, what-----" "Laura, I reckon the brief, direct way of the soldier will be best. Laura, ever since we were in High School together I have loved you. Through all the years that have followed, that love has never slumbered for an instant. It has grown stronger with every passing week. I-----" With a little cry Laura Bentley drew back. "I'm going right through to the end," cried Dick desperately. "Then you can throw cold water over me---if you must. Laura, I love you, and that love is nearly all of my life! I ask you to become a soldier's bride---mine!" "And---and---is that what has scared you?" asked Laura in a very low voice. "Yes!" "What a pitiful coward you are, then, to be a candidate for a commission in the Army," laughed Laura Bentley softly. "But you---you haven't answered me." "Why, Dick, I've never had another thought, in six years, than that I loved you!" "Laura! You love me?" "Why, of course, Dick. What has ailed your eyes and your reasoning powers?" With a glad cry, Prescott gathered his betrothed in his arms, claiming a lover's privilege. Then out of an inner pocket he drew a little box, drew out a circlet of gold in which a solitaire glistened, and slipped the ring over the finger set apart for the purpose of wearing such pledges. "And how soon, Laura---sweetheart?" he demanded eagerly. "Now, as to that, you must act like a creature of reason," Laura laughingly insisted. "You are not yet in the Army. At first, after you do receive your commission, you must be saving and careful. It needs furniture and all those things, you see, Dick, dearest, to form the background of a home. We must wait a little while---but what sweet waiting it will be!" "Won't it, though!" demanded Dick with fervor. "Laura, it seems to me that I must be dreaming. I can scarcely realize my great good fortune." "Nor can I," replied Laura softly. "You have always been my boy knight, Dick." As they stepped inside and approached their nearest friends, Belle murmured in Greg's ear: "Look at the electric glow that comes from the third finger of Laura's left hand. Now, do you comprehend, booby, what a fatal mistake you would have made, had I allowed you to tag them around to the cliff?" "Well, I'm jiggered!" gasped Cadet Holmes. "Which means that I'm petrified with delight." "Get practical, then," chided Belle. "Take me forward to them, and we'll have the happiness of being the first to congratulate the newest arrivals in paradise!" Two minutes later, the leader of the orchestra swung his baton. As the music pealed forth, Dick Prescott knew, for the first time in his life, the full meaning of the dance in Cullum Hall. There were many other newly betrothed couples on the floor that happy night of the graduation ball. The air was fragrant with flowers, but there was more---the atmosphere of new-found happiness on all sides. Outside, in the shadow of the moonless night, a stoop-shouldered figure prowled in the near vicinity of Cullum Hall. This was Jordan, intent on guessing when would be the most favorable moment for sending in the message that should call Prescott out to his doom. One of the watchmen, a soldier, in the quartermaster's department, belted, and with a revolver hanging therefrom in its holster, passed by and noted Jordan. "Are you waiting for anyone, sir?" asked the watchman, halting a moment, though only in mild curiosity. "I'm going to send a message in, after the music stops, for my cousin," replied Jordan, who knew that he must give some account of himself. "Your cousin? A cadet?" asked the watchman. "Oh, yes. Mr. Atterbury, of the first class," responded Jordan, giving the name of his former roommate at a venture. "Very good, sir," replied the watchman, and passed on. Mr. Atterbury, however, at that very moment, chanced to be standing on the further side of a tree not far distant, and with him were two other first classmen. "Who is that fellow?" queried Atterbury in a low whisper. "I've seen him around here before this, and his voice sounds mighty familiar." The passing watchman heard the question, so he answered: "He says he is your cousin, sir!" "He is not my cousin," replied Atterbury with strange sternness. "And, since the fellow is here in disguise, it ought to be our business to ask him some questions. Come on, fellows!" Atterbury strode out of the shadow, followed just a second later by "Durry" and "Doug." The prowler's first instinct was to run, but he dare not; that would proclaim guilt. "See here, sir," demanded Atterbury, striding straight up to the stoop-shouldered, bewhiskered one, "your name is Jordan, isn't it?" "No!" lied the wretch, in a voice that he strove to disguise. "Yes, it is," insisted Atterbury. "Rooming with you nearly four years, I can't be fooled with any suddenly pickled voice. Jordan, what are you doing here in disguise?" "I don't know that my presence here is any of your business," growled the ex-cadet. "Yes; it is," insisted Atterbury. "And you'll give us an account, too, or we'll lay hold of you and turn you over to some one official." At that threat Jordan turned to bolt. As he did so, three cadets sprang after him. At the third or fourth bound they had hold of him and bore him, fighting, to the earth. Even now Jordan used his splendid physique and strength in a determined, bitter struggle. But "Durry" helped turn the fellow over, face down, and then all three sat on their catch. "Doug," however, felt something hard. Leaping up, he made a quick search, then drew from Jordan's hip pocket a length of lead pipe wrapped in red flannel. "Ye gods of war," gasped Douglass, "what sort of weapon is this for a former gentleman to carry?" "Let me up," pleaded Jordan, "and I'll make a quick hike!" "Don't you let him up, fellows," warned Douglass. "Now, whom did Jordan seek with an implement like this? There could be but one of our men---Prescott." "Have you anything to say, Jordan?" demanded Atterbury. "Not a blessed word," growled Jordan, no longer attempting to disguise his voice. "Then we have," returned "Doug." "But you two fellows hold him until I come back." Douglass ran over to the cliff, then, with a mighty throw, hurled the bar of lead out into the Hudson, far below. Then he darted back. "Now, fellows," muttered Douglass in a low voice, "I'd like mighty well to turn this scoundrel over. But we don't want to put such a foul besmirchment on the class name, if we can avoid it, the night before graduation. Jordan, if we let you go, will you hike, and never stop hiking until you're miles and miles away from West Point?" "Yes; on my honor," protested the other eagerly. "On your---bosh!" retorted "Doug" impatiently. "Don't spring such strange oaths on us, fellow. Let him." "Now, Jordan, start moving, and keep it up!" Then the trio, after watching the rascal out of sight, went inside, and Douglass, at the first opportunity, warned Dick of what had happened outside in the summer darkness. _ |
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