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Dick Prescott's Third Year at West Point, a novel by H. Irving Hancock |
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Chapter 16. Roll-Call Gives The Alarm |
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_ CHAPTER XVI. ROLL-CALL GIVES THE ALARM For an instant Haynes leaned far out. Now his eyes were filed with a terror that overcame the wild fascination of his wicked deed. His anger had died down in a flash. Turnback Haynes would have given worlds to be able to recall the felonious deed he had just committed. But it was too late. He had seen Prescott's flying figure sink beneath the waters, which came up to within a few feet of the railroad trestle. Haynes turned back with a sobbing groan. Then he cast a terrified look into the car. Some of the fellows must have seen both of us come out here, he quavered. They'll see only one of us come back. I'll have to stand the whole fire of questions. Ugh! C-c-can I stand it without breaking down and giving myself away? The train was over and off of the bridge by now. Warned by a light burning between the rails, the engineer brought the train to a standstill. His heart bounding with a cowards hope, turnback Haynes leaped down to the roadbed. Breathlessly he rushed along the side of the train. He succeeded in gaining the platform of the third car ahead. Though his knees shook under him, the turnback swung up on to the steps. In another moment, after noting that the cadets were not looking particularly towards the door, Haynes turned the knob, stepping inside and dropping, with feigned carelessness, into an empty seat. "Hullo, Haynesy," was Lewis's easy greeting. Been up ahead? "Yes," lied the turnback. Anstey heard, though he did not pay much heed to the statement at the time. There were many, of course, who asked for Dick. Greg had not seen his chum for some time. In his own heart Holmes felt sure that Dick, tired of being congratulated, had sought retirement---in the baggage car, probably. So Greg had little to say, and did not go in search of his chum. It was not, in fact, until the corps reached West Point, and roll-call by companies was held, that the absence of Cadet Richard Prescott, second class, was discovered. Then there was a good deal of curiosity among a few comrades, wild excitement and useless speculation. An hour later, however, Greg's fevered imaginings were cut short by word that was brought over to him from the cadet guard house. Prescott had reported by wire. He had fallen from the rear car of the train into a river. The telegram merely stated that he had made his way to the nearest village, where a clergyman had provided him with the funds needed for his return to West Point. He would report at the earliest hour possible. From room to room in cadet barracks flew the news. "Now, how could a fellow be so careless as to fall off a moving train?" demanded Lewis. "Old ramrod may have been shaken up a heap in the game," hinted Anstey. "Prescott isn't the sort of chap to tell us every time he feels a trifle dizzy or experiences a nervous twitch. He may have felt badly, may have gone out on the platform for a whiff of fresh air, and then may have felt so much worse that he fell." "Depend upon one thing," put in Brayton decisively. "Whatever Prescott does there's some kind of good reason for." "It's enough, for to-night, declared Greg, to know that the royal old fellow is safe, anyway. To-morrow, well have the story, if there is any story worth having." Turnback Haynes received the news with mingled emotions. His first sensation was one of relief at knowing that he was not actually a murderer---one who had wickedly slain a fellow human being. It was not long, though, before Haynes became seized with absolute fright over the thought that Prescott must have recognized him. "In that case, all I can do is to stick out for absolute and repeated denial," shivered the turnback. "There's one great thing about West Point, anyway---a cadets word simply has to be taken, unless there is the most convincing proof to the contrary. I guess Lewis will remember that I came in from the car ahead or seemed to. But I wonder if anyone, officer or cadet, saw me running along at the side of the train?" It was small wonder that Cadet Haynes failed to get any sleep that night. All through the long hours to reveille the cadet tossed and tumbled on his cot. Fortunately for him, his roommate was too sound a sleeper to hear the tossing. Heavy-eyed, shuddering, Haynes rose in the morning. Through the usual routine he went, and at last marched off to section recitation, outwardly as jaunty as any other man in the corps, yet with dark dread lurking in his soul. It was about noon when Prescott reported at the adjutant's office, next going to the office of the commandant of cadets. By both officers Dick was congratulated on his fortunate escape from death. Each officer asked him a few direct questions. Prescott stated that he had remained over night with the village clergyman, giving his wet, icy clothing a chance to dry. It was when asked how he came to fall from the rear platform of the car that the cadet hesitated. "I thought I was thrown from the platform, sir," Dick replied in each case. "Who was on the platform with you?" "No one, sir, an instant before." "Did you see any one come out of the car?" "No, sir." "Did you recognize any assailant?" "No-o, sir." "Have you any good reason to suspect any particular person?" "No _good_ reason, sir." "Could any one have come out of the car, unless it had been a tactical officer, a cadet or a railway employee?" "No, sir." That was as far as the questioning went, for both the adjutant and the commandant of cadets believed that Dick had been pitched from the rear platform by some sudden movement of the car. No other belief seemed sane enough to be considered. It was the commandant of cadets who suggested: "If you feel the slightest need of it, Mr. Prescott, you may go at once to cadet hospital, and be examined by one of the surgeons. We don't want you coming down with illness later, on account of a neglected chill." "I am very certain I don't need a medical officers attention, sir," replied Cadet Prescott, with just the trace of a smile. "The Rev. Dr. Brown and his wife were about the most attentive people I ever met. I was pretty cold, sir, when I reached their house. But inside of five minutes they had me rolled up in warm blankets and were dosing me with ginger tea. Afterwards they gave me a hot supper. I slept like a top, sir, last night." "You feel fit then, Mr. Prescott, to return to full duty? asked the K.C. "Wholly fit, sir." "Very good. Then I will so mark you. Go to your quarters, Mr. Prescott, and wait until the next call, which will be the call for dinner formation." Saluting the commandant, Prescott left the cadet guard house, hastening to his own room. A few minutes later Cadet Holmes burst in upon his chum. To him Dick told the whole story of his striking the water, of his swimming to shore, and of hurried trip through the cold night to the nearest house. "And you're sure you were pushed?" questioned greg thoughtfully. "Either I was pushed, or it was all a horrid dream," replied Dick fervently. "Then why didn't you so tell the K.C.?" "I answered the K.C. truthfully, Greg. I told him all that I really know. I didn't feel called upon, and wasn't asked, to tell him anything that I guessed." "What is your guess?" insisted Holmes, with the privilege of a friend. "Greg, as far as I can be sure of anything without knowing it, I am absolutely certain that a cadet came out of the car, behind me, and that he pushed me off the platform." "A cadet?" demanded Greg, turning pale. To Holmes it seemed atrocious to couple the word cadet with any act of dishonor. "Greg, as I plunged through the air, I succeeded in turning a trifle. I am convinced, in my own mind, that I saw the gray cape overcoat of a cadet I am also certain that I got a glimpse of his face. The only limit to my certainty is that I wouldn't want to name the man under oath." "Who was he?" demanded Holmes. Advancing, placing his lips against one of Greg's ears, Prescott whispered the name: "Haynes! But you mustn't breathe this to a living soul! Remember, I wouldn't dare swear to the truth of what I've hinted to you." Greg Holmes, wholly and utterly loyal to the cadet corps of which he was himself an honored member, went even paler. He leaned back against the wall, clenching his fists tightly. "Haynes?" he whispered. "I don't like the fellow, and I never did. He's no friend of yours, either, Dick. But he wears the staunch old cadet uniform and has had more than three years of the West Point traditions. It seems impossible, Dick. Had anyone else but you told me this, even against Haynes, I would have turned on my heel and walked away." "I hope it isn't true---I hope it is all a hideous nightmare, born of my dismay when I found myself going through space!" breathed Dick fervently. "What are you going to do about this?" asked Greg huskily. "Nothing whatever." "You are not going to mention Haynes to anyone else?" "No, sirree! I shall keep my eyes open a bit when Haynes is around; that is all." "I hope it isn't true---oh, I hope it isn't true," breathed Greg fervently. "But I know you're no liar, Dick, and you're no dreamer of dreams! Confound it, I almost wish you hadn't told me this. But I asked you to." Greg's face was a queer ashen gray in color. At that moment the call for dinner formation sounded. "You're all ready, Dick, so hustle along. I've clean forgotten to get myself ready. You hustle, and I'll try not to be late in the formation." As Cadet Prescott hastened along through the lower corridor, he came face to face with the turnback. Haynes stopped short, his jaw drooping. For just a second he stiffened his arms as though to throw himself in an attitude of defence. Halting, without speaking or raising a hand, Dick Prescott looked squarely into the other man's eyes. Haynes turned ghastly pale, his jaw moving nervously as though he would speak and could not. A smile of scorn flashed into Prescotts face. Haynes fairly writhed beneath that contemptuous look. Then, still without a word or a sound, Prescott passed on. "He did it!" muttered Dick to himself. Yet, with the certainty of the turnbacks guilt, Prescott did not wish Haynes any personal harm. The only greatly perturbed thought that ran through Dick's mind was: "That fellow is not fit for the Army. Must he be allowed to go on and graduate?" Thrice during the dinner period Dick allowed his glance to rove over to the turnback. Not once did he catch Haynes's eye, but that young man was making only a pretence at eating. "If he really pushed me from the train," muttered Prescott to himself, "I hope Haynes worries about it until he fesses cold in some study and so has to leave the Military Academy. For he'll never be fit to be an officer. He couldn't command other men with justice." _ |
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