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Dick Prescott's Third Year at West Point, a fiction by H. Irving Hancock |
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Chapter 9. Back To The Good, Gray Life |
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_ CHAPTER IX. BACK TO THE GOOD, GRAY LIFE A Glorious summer it was for the two second classman on furlough! Yet, like all other things, good and otherwise, it had to come to an end. One morning near the end of August, Dick and Greg, attended by a numerous concourse of friends, went to the railway station. The proud parents were there, of course, and so were the parents of Dave Darrin and Dan Dalzell, the latter happy in the knowledge that their boys would soon be home for the brief September leave from the United States Naval Academy at Annapolis. "Why, you haven't seen Dave since you youngsters all left home, have you, Dick?" asked Mr. Darrin. "No, sir. Greg and I hoped to, this last summer, when the Army baseball nine went down to Annapolis and defeated the Navy nine," Dick replied. "But both Greg and I found ourselves so hard pressed in our academic work that we didn't dare go, but remained behind and boned hard at our studies." "You don't forget the fact that the Army nine did defeat the Navy nine, do you?" laughed Dan's father. "No, sir; of course not," smiled Dick. "The Army and Navy teams exist mainly for the purpose of beating each other. I am glad to say that the Army manages to win more than its share of games." "That's because the West Point boys average a little older than the Annapolis boys," broke in Mrs. Dalzell pleasantly, though warmly. Even she, as the mother of a midshipman, felt her share in the rivalry between the nation's two great service schools. "You will bring Laura and Belle up to some of the hops this winter, I hope, Mrs. Bentley," Dick begged. "Oh, she's pledged to take us to West Point, and to Annapolis," broke in Belle Meade, smiling. "You don't think we are going to lose the hops at either Academy while we have friends there, do you?" "I should hope not," Dick replied earnestly. Five minutes before train time Leonard Cameron appeared. He greeted the two cadets with great cordiality. "I couldn't help coming to see you off, Prescott," Cameron found chance to say in an undertone. "Laura is so deeply interested in your success that I, too, am longing to hear every possible good word as to your future career. Laura couldn't be more interested in you if she were truly your sister." That was the sting that made Dick's going away bitter. Cameron's manner was so easy and assured that Dick saw the crumbling of one of his more than half built castles in Spain. The train carried the two cadets away. The parents of both young men had seen to it that the cadets went away in a parlor car. Dick and Greg, after leaving Gridley behind, swung their chairs around so that, while they looked out of the window, their heads were close together. "Cameron had a nerve to show up, didn't hey" demanded Greg indignantly. "I don't know," Dick replied very quietly. "He tried to be very kind and cordial." "Shucks!" uttered Greg, disgustedly. "Doesn't he know that Laura Bentley is your girl, and that he's only a b.j. hanger-on there?" "I'm afraid Laura herself doesn't know that she's my girl," sighed Dick. Cadet Holmes swung about so that he could gaze straight into his comrade's face. "Dick, didn't you tell her?" demanded Greg aghast. "You have to do something more than tell a girl," smiled Prescott patiently, though wearily. "You have to ask her." "Well, thunder and bomb-shells, didn't you?" "I didn't, Greg." "Oh, pardon me, old ramrod. I don't mean to pry into your affairs-----" "I know you don't." "-----but I thought you were deeply interested in Laura Bentley." "I think I am, Greg. In fact, I'm sure I am." "Then why-----" "Greg, I'm not yet sure of my place in life. I'm not going to ask any girl to tie her future up in my plans until I feel that I have a fair start in life." "Army officer's pay is enough for any sensible girl." "I'm not an Army officer yet." "Oh, rot! You're going to be! You're half way through West Point now. You're past the harder half, and you stand well enough in your class. You're sure to graduate and get into the Army." "Greg, within ten days of getting back to West Point I may be injured in some cavalry, or other drill, and become useless for life. A cadet hurt even in the line of duty gets no pension, no retired pay. If he is a wreck, he is merely shipped home for his folks to take care of him. When I graduate, and get my commission in the Army, it will be different. Then I'll have a salary guaranteed me for life; if I am injured, and become useless in the Army, I still have retired pay enough to take care of a family. If I am killed my wife could draw nearly pension enough to support her. All these things belong to the Army officer and his wife. But the cadet has nothing coming to him if he fails, for any reason, to get through." "Well, cadets don't marry," observed Greg. "They're forbidden to. But a cadet can have things understood with his girl. Then, if he fails to make the Army, or to get something else suitable in life, he can release the girl if she wants to be released." "But if a girl considers herself as good as engaged to a cadet she lets other good chances go by, and the cadet may never be able to make good," objected Dick. "It's good of you to be so thoughtful for that fellow Cameron," jibed Greg. "I'm not thoughtful for him, but for Laura," retorted Prescott staunchly. "Confound it," growled Greg to himself, "Dick is such a stickler for the girl's rights that he is likely to break her heart. Hanged if I don't try to set Laura straight myself, when I see her! No; I won't either, though. Dick would never forgive me if I butted into his own dearest affairs." "I know, Greg," Prescott pursued presently, "that some of the fellows do become engaged to, girls while still at the Military Academy. But becoming engaged to marry a girl is a mighty serious thing." "Then I'm in for it," muttered Holmes soberly. "I'm engaged to the third girl." "What?" gasped his chum incredulously. "You engaged to three girls?" "Oh, only one at a time," Greg assured his comrade. "The first two girls, each in turn, asked to be released, after we'd been engaged for a while. So, now, I'm engaged to my third girl." Holmes spoke seriously, and with evident truth. Dick leaned back, staring curiously at his chum, though he did not ask the latest girl's name. "At least, I was engaged, at latest accounts," Greg went on, after a few moments. "By the time I reach West Point, just as likely as not, I'll get a letter asking me to consider the matter as past history only." "Greg, Greg!" muttered Prescott, shaking his head gravely. "I'm afraid you're not very constant. "I?" retorted Cadet Holmes indignantly. "Dick, you're harboring the wrong idea. It's the girls who are not constant. Though they were all nice little bits of femininity," Greg added reminiscently in a tone of regret. Late in the afternoon the chums arrived in New York. After putting up at a hotel they had time for dinner and a stroll. "Somehow, I don't feel very sporty tonight," sighed Cadet Holmes, as they waited, at table, for the evening meal to be served. "Yet, in a week, I suppose I'll be kicking myself. For tomorrow we're due to get back into our gray habits and re-enter the military convent life up the river." After a late supper and a short night's rest, the two young men found themselves, the morning following, on a steamboat bound up the Hudson River. "After all these weeks of good times," muttered Greg, "it doesn't seem quite real." "It will, in a couple of hours," predicted Prescott, smiling. "And, now that home is so far behind, I'm really delighted to think that I'll soon be back in gray old barracks, donning the same old gray uniform." "Oh, it will be all right. There are a lot of fellows that I'm eager to see" Greg admitted. "Is the---er---er-----" "Out with it!" "Is Miss Number Three likely to be at the Point when we get there?" "I don't know," Holmes admitted. "I haven't heard from her in four days. I hope she'll be there." All in due time the two cadets worked their way forward on the boat. Now they encountered nearly a dozen other members of their class, all returning. Yet none of the dozen were among their warmest friends in class life. "Look, fellows!" cried Dick at last. "There's just a glimpse of some of the high spots of West Point through the trees!" It was all well enough for the cadets to claim that the life at West Point was a fearfully hard and dull grind, and that they were little better than cadet slaves. As they picked out, one after another, familiar glimpses of West Point, these young men became mostly silent, though their eyes gleamed eagerly. They loved the good old gray academy! They rejoiced to find themselves so near, and going back! Then at last the boat touched at the pier. Some moments before the gangplank was run aboard from the wharf everyone of the more than dozen cadets had already leaped ashore. "Whoop!" yelled Greg, tossing his hat in the air. "Mr. Holmes!" growled Cadet Dennison with mock severity. "Report yourself for unmilitary enthusiasm!" "Yes, sir," responded Greg meekly, saluting: his fellow classman. "Fall in!" yelled Dennison. "Where?" inquired Dick innocently. "In the Hudson? I decline, sir, to obey an illegal order." Amid a good deal of laughter the returning cadets trudged across the road, over the railroad tracks and on up the steep slope that led to the administration building. Across the inner court of the administration building walked the second classman briskly, and on up the stairs. There was no more laughter. Even the talking was in most subdued tones, for these young men were going back to duty---military duty at that! In one of the outer offices on the second floor the cadets left their suit cases. Dick, being one of those in the lead, stepped into the adjutant's room, brought his heels together, and in the position of the soldier, saluted. "Sir, I report my return to duty at the Military Academy." "Very good, Mr. Prescott. Report to the special officer in charge at the cadet guard house, and receive your assignment to your room. The special officer in charge will give you any further immediate orders that may be necessary." Again saluting, Prescott wheeled with military precision and left the adjutant's office. As he was going out Dick was passed by Greg coming in. For a moment Prescott waited outside until Greg had joined him. "It would be a howling mess if we didn't have a room together this year, old ramrod, wouldn't it?" muttered Cadet Holmes as soon as they were clear of the administration building. "Oh, that isn't one of our likely troubles," Dick answered. "We asked for a room together, and second classmen generally have what we want in that line." On reporting to the special officer in charge, the two chums found that they had been given quarters together. Moreover, their room was one of the best assigned to second classman, and looked out over the plain and parade ground. "We ought to be jolly happy in here this year, old ramrod," predicted Greg. "Especially as we haven't any fellow like Dodge in the class." "Nor in the whole Military Academy," rejoined Prescott. "I hope not," murmured Cadet Holmes thoughtfully. Boys at boarding school would have needed at least the rest of the day to get themselves to rights. Trained to soldierly habits, our two cadets had quickly dropped the furlough life. Citizen clothes, in dress-suit cases, were deposited at the cadet store, and the two cadets, back in "spooniest" white duck trousers and gray fatigue blouses, were soon speeding along the roads that led across the plain to where the other three classes were having their last day of summer encampment. "Greetings, old ramrod!" called a low but pleasant voice, as First Classman Brayton hurried up, grasping Dick's hand. Then Greg came in for a hearty shake. Brayton, who had been a cadet corporal when the two boys from Gridley were plebes, now wore the imposing chevrons of a cadet captain. "My, but I'm glad to see you two idlers return to a fair measure of work," laughed another voice, and Spurlock, whom Dick, as a plebe, had thrashed, pushed his right hand into the ceremonies. Spurlock, too, was a cadet captain. Other first classmen crowded in for these returning furlough men were popular throughout the upper classes. "May a wee, small voice make itself heard?" Dick and Greg half wheeled to meet another comer. Little Briggs, a trifle less plump and correspondingly longer, stood before them, grinning almost sheepishly. "Hullo, Briggsy!" cried Prescott, extending his hand, which the third classman took with unusual warmth. "Being no longer a plebe, I enjoy the great pleasure able to address an upper classman before I'm addressed," went on Briggs. "That's so, Briggsy," affirmed Greg. Before going off on their furlough both had been compelled to regard Briggs as an unfortunate plebe, with whom it was desirable to have as little to do as possible. Then it had been "Mr. Briggs"; now it was "Briggsy"; that much had the round little fellow gained by stepping up from the fourth class to the third. "Have you found any b.j. beasts among the new plebes, Briggsy!" Dick wanted to know. "Plenty of 'em," responded Briggs with enthusiasm. "Any that were b.j.-er than Mr. Briggs?" inquired Greg. A shade annoyance crossed the new yearling's face. "I never was b.j., was I?" he murmured. "Think!" returned Dick dryly. "However, you're Briggs, now, with all my heart---no longer 'mister.'" "We've had a busy, busy summer," murmured Briggs, "licking the new beasts into shape." Greg laughed heartily at memory of some of the hazing stunts through which he had once helped to rush Briggs. Furlong, Griffin and Dobbs, of the second class, hurried over to greet Prescott and Holmes. "Where's Anstey?" Dick inquired. "Not back yet, I'm sure," replied Briggs. "Oh, well, he'll be back before the day's over," Dick went on confidently. "That youth from Virginia is much too good a soldier to fail to report on time." Soon after the instruction parties of the first, third and fourth classes came marching back into camp. It seemed, indeed, like old times, to see the fellows all rushing off to their tents to clean up and change uniforms before the dinner call sounded. Then the call for dinner formation came. Dick and Greg fell in, in their old company, and marched away at the old, swinging soldier tread. Most of the afternoon the returned furlough men spent in their new rooms. During that afternoon Anstey pounced in upon them. The Virginian said little, as usual, but the length and fervor of the handclasp that he gave Dick and Greg was enough. With evening came the color-line entertainment. Dick and Anstey walked on the outskirts of the throng of visitors. Cadet Holmes, having discovered that the especial girl to whom he was at present betrothed was not at West Point, played the casual gallant for a fair cousin of Second Classman McDermott. The night went out in a blaze of color, illumination and fireworks just before taps. In the morning the cadet battalion marched back into barracks, and on the morning after that the daily grind began in the grim old academic building. Cadets Prescott and Holmes were thus fairly started on their third year at West Point. There was a tremendous grind ahead of them, the very grind was becoming vastly easier, two years of the hard life at West Point taught them how to study. _ |
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