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Dick Prescott's Third Year at West Point, a fiction by H. Irving Hancock |
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Chapter 10. The Scheme Of The Turnback |
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_ CHAPTER X. THE SCHEME OF THE TURNBACK "I must be getting back to my room," murmured Anstey. "I haven't had a demerit so far this year, and I don't want to begin." "If you must go, all right," replied Dick, though he added, with undoubted heartiness: "Whether in or out of proper hours, Anstey, your visits are always too short." "Thank you, old man," replied the Virginian gratefully. The time had worn along into October. During the first month of academic work, neither Dick nor Greg had stood as high in their class as they had wished. This is often the case with new second classmen, who have just returned from all the allurements and excitements of their furloughs. "Are you studying very hard, Anstey?" asked Greg, turning around, as the Virginian entered the door. "Not very," drawled the Virginian. "I never did like haste and rush. I'm satisfied if I get through. I did hope to stand high enough to get into the cavalry, but now I think I'm going to be pleased if I get the doughboy's white trousers stripe." The "doughboy" is an infantryman. "I think I'm going to find it all easy enough, now, after I once get my gait. Thank goodness, we're past the daily math. grind." "We'll all find plenty of math. in its application to other studies," sighed Prescott. "But what gets me is for an Army officer to have to be roundly coached in philosophy, as regards sound and light." "And chemistry," groaned Greg, "with heat, mineralogy, geology and electricity. And how the instructors can draw out on the points that a fellow hasn't been able to get through his head!" "Don't!" begged the Virginian. "It makes my temples throb. I've written mother, asking her to send me some headache powders. Unless our third-year science instructors let up on us, I see myself eating headache powders like candy." As Anstey turned the knob, and started to go out, another cadet, about to enter, pushed door open and stepped inside. "Howdy fellows," was the greeting of the newcomer. "How do you do, Haynes?" asked Dick, though not over impressed by the newcomer. Haynes was a former second classman, who, on account of illness in the latter half of his third year, had been allowed to "turn back" and join the new second class. It often happens that a "turnback" is not extremely popular with the new class that he joins. Not less often does it happen that the turnback wonders at the comparative lack of esteem shown him. The reason, however, is very likely to be found in the fact that the turnback considers himself a mile or so above the new class members with whom circumstances have compelled him to cast his lot. It was so in this instance. Haynes felt that he was, properly, a first classman. True, the members of the first class, which he had fallen behind, did not take that view of the case. "You fellows busy?" asked Haynes, as he took a seat across the foot of Prescott's cot bed. "Oh, no more busy than cadets usually are," smiled Dick pleasantly. "We are finding the new grind a hard one---that's all." "Now, there's nothing very hard about the first half of the year in this class," replied Haynes knowingly. "I've been through it you know." "You're lucky," rejoined Greg. "We haven't been through it---yet." Hayes, however, chose to regard what was meant as a slight hint. "Don't bone too hard at this first-term stuff, fellows," he went on. "Save your energies for the second half of the academic year." "I wonder whether we shall have any energies left by that time," replied Greg, opening one of his text-books in philosophy with a force that made the cover bang against the desk. "Oh, go ahead and bone 'sound,' then, if you want," permitted Mr. Haynes. "I'll talk to Prescott. Old ramrod, I haven't seen you at any of the hops this year." "Haven't had a femme to drag," replied Dick, as he picked up a sheet of notes and began to scan it. "Why don't you turn pirate, then, as I do," yawned Haynes, "and get the fellows to write you down on the cards they're making up for their femmes?" "I hadn't thought of that," replied Dick. "I don't believe, when I have no femme to drag to the hops, that it would make me any more popular with the fellows, either. A fellow who pirates at all should drag a spoony femme pretty often himself." "Why," asked Hayes, opening his eyes rather wide, "are you boning bootlick with any but officers?" "Boning bootlick" means to curry favor. Occasionally a cadet who wants cadet honors resorts to "boning bootlick" with the tactical officers stationed at the academy. "I'm not boning bootlick with cadets or with officers either," retorted Dick rather crisply. "I've never had the delight of wearing chevrons, you know." Haynes flushed a trifle. The year before he had worn a sergeant's chevrons. This year, for some reason, he did not have the chevrons. "Wearing chevrons isn't the only sign of bootlick," replied Haynes. "Is it one of them?" smiled Prescott good-humoredly. Again Haynes flushed. He had meant to take down this new member of the second class, but found Prescott's tongue too ready. "I don't know," replied Haynes shortly. "I've never been one of the authorities on bootlick." "Nor I, either," laughed Prescott quietly. "So we won't be able to come to the point of any information on the subject, I'm afraid." Greg, with his back turned to the visitor as he bent over the study desk, had been frowning for some time. Holmes wanted to study; he knew how badly he needed the time. But Haynes showed no sign of leaving the room. Suddenly, Holmes closed his book, perhaps with a trifle more noise than was necessary. "What you going to do, Greg?" inquired his chum, as Cadet Holmes rose stiffly, holding himself very erect in his natty gray uniform. "I believe I'll get out for a while," replied Greg. "I---I really want to think a little while." "Oh, I'll go, if you say so," volunteered Cadet Haynes, though without offering to rise. "Not necessary," replied Greg briefly, and stepped over to the door, which he next closed---from the outside. "Your roommate cocky?" asked Haynes, with a short laugh. "Holmes!" inquired Dick. "One of the best fellows in the world." "Guess he didn't want visitors, then," grinned: Haynes. "He's a chump to bone hard all the time. Really, Prescott, you don't get any further with an excess of boning." "I always try to get as high in my class as I can," sighed Dick. "True, that has never been extremely high yet. But a fellow wants to be well up, so he can spare a few numbers, in case anything happens, you know." "I'd just as soon be anywhere above the three fellows at the bottom of the Glass," replied Haynes, stifling another yawn. "Well, I hope you at least attain to your ambitions in the matter," replied Dick, regretfully eyeing two of his text-books that he wanted to dig into in turn. There was not a heap of study time left now, before the call came for supper formation. "My ambitions run along different lines," announced Haynes. "Along different lines than class standing?" inquired Dick. "Yes; if you mean the kind of class standing that comes from the academic board," went on Haynes. "Why, I didn't know there was any other kind, except standing in drill, and believe nearly all of the men here stand well in drill." "Oh, there are some other kinds," pursued Haynes. "Personal standing, for instance?" "Thank heaven personal standing is rather easily reached here," replied Dick. "All a fellow has to do is to be courteous and honorable and his personal standing just about takes care of itself." "Oh, there are some other little matters in personal standing. Take the class presidency, Prescott, for instance." "Yes?" queried Dick. "What about it?" "Well, you've been president of your class for two years." "Yes; thanks to the other fellows of the class." "Now, Prescott, do you intend to go right along keeping the presidency of the class?" "Why, yes; if the fellows don't show me that they want a change." "Maybe they do," murmured Haynes. Dick wheeled and regarded the turnback rather sharply. "You must mean something by that, Haynes. What do you mean?" "Are you willing to resign, if the class wants someone else?" "Of course," replied Prescott, with a snap. "I'm glad to hear you say that," murmured Haynes. "See here, Haynes, have you been sent here by any faction in the second class?" "No," admitted the turnback promptly. "Have you heard any considerable expression of opinion on the subject of a new class president being desired." "No," admitted Haynes, coloring somewhat under the close scrutiny of his comrade in the class and the corps. "You're speaking for yourself only?" "That's it," assented the turnback. "Why don't you want me for class president?" Cadet Haynes looked a trifle disconcerted, but it was always Dick's way to go openly and directly to the point in any matter. "Why, perhaps I don't know just how to put it," replied Haynes. "But see here, Prescott, wouldn't it be better for any class---say the second class, for instance---to have a man as president who has been longer at the Military Academy than the other members of the class?" "Do you mean," pursued Dick relentlessly, "that you want to be elected president of the present second class, Haynes?" "Why, I think it would be a nice little courtesy from the class," admitted the turnback. "You see, Prescott, you've held the honor now for two years." Dick smiled, looking straight into the eyes of his visitor, but he made no other answer. "Now, what do you think about it, Prescott?" insisted the turnback. "I don't like to tell you, Haynes." "But I wish you would." "You'd be offended." "No; I would---See here not trying to be offensive with me, are you?" "Certainly not." "Oh, that's all right then. Go ahead and tell me what you think." "I was a good deal astonished," went on Prescott, "when back in plebe days, the other fellows chose me for their president. I wasn't expecting it, and I didn't know what to make of it. But the fellows of the class gave me that great honor. I stand ready to step down from the honor at any time when the class feels that it would like another president." "I'd like the honor, Prescott. But, of course, I didn't know that you held to it so earnestly. If you don't want to give it up, of course I'll go slow in asking you to do so. But I thought that both you and the class would appreciate having as president a man who has been longer at the Military Academy than any of the others." "If I were to resign the presidency," replied Prescott bluntly, "I don't believe you'd stand a ghost of a show of getting it." Cadet Haynes sprang to his feet, cheeks crimson, his eyes flashing. "Why not?" he insisted. "Steady, now," urged Dick. "Don't take offence where none is meant, Haynes. The class would want its president to be one who has been with the class all along, and who knows all its traditions. Now, in experience, you're a first classman, and you've all the First-class traditions. Now, if the class were dissatisfied with me, and wanted a new president, I'm pretty certain the fellows would choose someone who had been in our class from the start. Now with you a turnback-----" Haynes's flush deepened, and he took a step forward, his fists clenching. "Prescott, do you use that word offensively?" "No," replied Dick quietly. "Do you intend your question or manner to be offensive?" "Not unless you're trying to start it," sniffed the other cadet. "I'll tell you what I'll do, Haynes," proposed Dick pleasantly. "I can see your point of view---from your side. I don't believe it would be the view of the class. But, if you wish, I'll call a class meeting and lay the whole proposition before them." "You mean that you'll try out class feeling by resigning and suggesting me for your successor?" asked Haynes eagerly. "No; I'll state the substance of our conversation this afternoon, and then you can say any thing you may have to say on the subject. Then I will put it to the class whether they want me to resign so that you can be elected in my place." Haynes turned several shades more red. "That would make a fool of me!" flashed the turnback. "It would be a statement of your own proposition, wouldn't it?" asked Dick, with another smile. "Stop your laughing at me, you-----" "Careful!" warned Dick, but he threw a lot of emphasis into the single word. "Prescott," choked the turnback, "you're trying to make my idea and myself ridiculous!" "Haven't I stated your proposition fairly?" challenged Prescott. "You think that, because you are a turnback, you have more right than I to the class presidency. If that isn't your attitude, then I shall be glad to apologize." "Oh, pshaw, there's no use in trying to make you see the matter with my eyes," muttered Haynes in disgust. "I'm afraid not, Haynes. If the fellows don't want me as president I would insist on resigning. But I am sure the class would rather have almost anyone than a turnback. I hope, however, there is no hard feeling?" Prescott held out his right hand frankly. "I hope there will be, as you say, no hard feeling," mumbled Haynes, accepting the proffered hand weakly. Then the turnback left the room. Down the corridor, however, he strode heavily, angrily, muttering to himself: "The conceited puppy!" _ |
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