CHAPTER XXV.A CHALLENGE.
“Hey, there, wake up!”
“Um—um. Don’t bother me.”
“Wow! Git up, man——”
“Say, Texas, didn’t I tell you I wanted to sleep this hour? Haven’t I been awake now two nights in succession helping you haze the yearlings? Now I want to take a nap; so let me alone.”
“Wake up!” repeated Texas. “Ain’t you got sense enough, Mark Mallory, to know I’m not pesterin’ you fo’ nothin’? Git yo’ eyes open thar and listen. I got something to tell you. I know you’re sleepy—thar ain’t no need tellin’ me that aire ag’in. I know you were up night afore last hazin’ them ole yearlin’s, an’ last night, too, ’cause they tied us up an’ fired us into that freight train goin’ to New York. But this hyar’s more ’portant than sleepin’!”
“What is it?” demanded Mark.
“There’s a committee from the first class wants to see you.”
“What!”
“Thar, naow! I knew you’d get yo’ eyes open,” laughed the other triumphantly.
“What do they want?” inquired Mark.
“You know what they want well as I do,” responded Texas. “They want you. They want you ’cause you’re the most B. J. plebe ever came to West Point, ’cause you dared to defy ’em, to refuse to be hazed, to lick ’em when they tried it, an’ to all ’round raise the biggest rumpus this hyar ole place ever see. That’s what!”
“Do you mean,” laughed Mark, “that they want me to fight some more?”
“Course they do!” roared Texas. “You old idiot, you! Why ain’t yo’ up hustlin’ fo’ the chance? You don’t appreciate yo’ opportunity, sah. Ef I had the chance to wallop them ole cadets like you’ve got—wow! You know what I’d do?”
“I’m not a fire-eating, wild and woolly cowboy hunting for fight,” responded Mark.
“That’s all right,” grinned the other. “You’ll do it when the time comes. I never see you run yit when you ought to be fightin’, an’ neither did them ole cadets. An’ say, Mark! There’s fun ahead! Whoop! You rememberever since you had the nerve to go to the hop, somethin’ no plebe ever dared do afore, them ole first class fellers vowed they’d make you sorry. You made ’em madder since by lickin’ one of ’em when they dared you to. An’ now they’re comin’ ’roun’ to git square.”
“Do you mean they’re going to make me fight every man in the class, as they said?” inquired Mark.
“That’s jes’ what I do!” cried Texas, gleefully. “Jes’ exactly! Come out hyer an’ see ’em yo’self.”
Mark had been making his toilet before the little looking-glass that hung on the tent pole; he turned then and accompanied his friend out of camp and over to Trophy Point, where sat in all stateliness and dignity three solemn-looking seniors, a committee from the first class to Mark Mallory, the desperate and defiant and as yet untamed “B. J.” plebe. But he wasn’t going to remain untamed very long if that committee had anything to do with it.
They arose at his approach.
“Mr. Mallory?” said the spokesman.
Mr. Mallory bowed.
“You come from the first class, I believe,” he said. “Let us proceed right to business.”
The committee, through its spokesman, cleared its throat with a solemn “Ahem!”
“Mr. Mallory,” said he, “I presume you have not forgotten that a short while ago you ventured to defy our class openly. The class has not forgotten it, for such conduct in a plebe cannot be tolerated here. Your conduct ever since you came has been unbearably defiant; you have set at naught every cadet law of the academy. And therefore, as the class warned you beforehand, you must expect trouble.”
Mr. Mallory bowed; he’d had a good deal of it already, he thought to himself.
“The class has been waiting,” continued the other, “for you to recover from the effects of a dislocated shoulder, an injury due to another unpleasant—ahem—accident——”
“Or, to be more specific,” inserted Mark, very mildly, “due to the fact that I was—er—attacked by some—ahem—fifty members of the first class in a body.”
“Not quite so many,” said the chairman, flushing. “The incident is regretted by the class.”
“By me also,” said Mark, rubbing his shoulder suggestively.
“It appears,” the other continued hurriedly, “that youare now recovered. Therefore, to be brief, the class has sent us to inquire as to your wishes concerning the duty you undertook when you ventured to defy them. You know what I mean. You stand pledged, and you will be compelled to defend yourself before every member of our class in turn until you agree to apologize and become a plebe once more.”
The spokesman stopped and Mark answered without hesitation, looking him squarely in the eye.
“Tell the class,” said he, “that I am ready to meet any one it may select, to-day if necessary, and in any place they choose. Tell them also if they could manage to select one of those who helped to injure my shoulder I should consider it a favor. Tell them that I have nothing to apologize for. Tell them that I renew my defiance, with all possible courtesy, of course; tell them I once more refuse to be hazed, and shall refuse even when I am beaten; and——”
Here the excitable ex-cowboy, who had been listening with most evident delight, sprang forward with a whoop.
“An’ tell ’em,” he roared, “doggone their boots, ef they lick Mark fair or foul they ain’t hardly begun what they’ll have to do! Tell ’em, sah, there’s a gennelman,what never yit run from man or devil, named Jeremiah Powers, sah, son o’ the Honorable Scrap Powers, o’ Hurricane County, Texas. Tell ’em he’s jes’ roaring for a scrap, an’ that he’ll start in whar Mallory quits! An’ tell ’em——”
But the committee had turned away and started across the parade ground by that time. The committee didn’t consider it necessary to listen to Mr. Jeremiah Powers.
Mark had listened however; and as he took Texas by the hand the excitable Texas saw in his eyes that he appreciated the offer.
“And now,” said Mark at last, “if I am to do some fighting I’d best go back and finish that nap. I’ll need to make up for the sleep I’ve missed.”
An important event had happened to that company that day, one that had made a great change in their lives. A month and a half of drill and discipline, the most rigorous possible, had been judged to have had its effect. And that day the plebes were honored by being put in the cadet battalion.
Previously they had “herded” alone, a separate roll call, separate drills, separate seats in mess hall. But now all was changed. The plebe company was broken up, themembers each going to their own company in the battalion, to hear their names called with the others at roll call, to march down to meals and sit with them, too. And that afternoon for the first time the plebes were to march on parade, Mark and Texas under the command of Fischer, cadet-captain of Company A.
Concerning Fischer, the high and mighty first classman, it may be well to say a word, for he will figure prominently in this story. Fischer was a member of the first class, and its idol. Tall, handsome and athletic, he made an ideal captain; even the plebes thought that, and strange to say, our B. J. plebes most of all. For Fischer was a fair-minded, gentlemanly fellow and more than once he had interfered to see that Mallory got fair play with his enemies.
He came in that same afternoon to have a word with Mark as to the latest excitement; it was an unusual thing indeed for a cadet-captain even to speak to a plebe, but Fischer chose to be different. And, moreover, Mallory had earned for himself many privileges most plebes had never dreamed of.
“I got a letter from your friend, Wicks Merritt,” said Fischer. “His furlough is coming to an end. PoorWicks is very much agitated for fear you’ll be hazed out of West Point before he gets here. But I told him there wasn’t much danger. I think you’ll stick.”
“I shall try,” laughed Mark, while Texas sat by in awe and gazed at the young officer’s chevrons and sash. “I shall try. Have you heard of my engagement—the latest?”
“Yes,” answered the other, “I have. That’s what I came in for. I don’t envy you.”
“I don’t myself,” said the plebe thoughtfully. “I don’t like to fight. I’d a thousand times rather not, and I always say ‘no’ when I can. But I’ve vowed I wouldn’t stand the kind of hazing I got, and I don’t mean to so long as I can see.”
“I wish you luck,” said Fischer. “I’ve told the men in my own class that, for I haven’t forgotten, as they seem to, the time you rescued that girl in the river.”
“Do you know who’ll be the first man I meet?” inquired the other, changing the subject.
“I do not; the class is busily holding a conclave now to decide who’s the best. They’ll send their prize bantam the first time, though I doubt if we’ve a man much better than Billy Williams, the yearling you whipped. Stillyou’ve got to be at your best, I want to tell you, and I want you to understand that. When a man’s been three years here at West Point, as we have, he’s in just about as perfect trim as he ever will be in his life.”
“So am I,” responded Mark.
“You are not,” said Fischer, sharply. “That’s just the trouble. I wouldn’t be warning you if you were. I’ve heard of the monkey shines you’ve been kicking up; Bull Harris, that good-for-nothing yearling, was blowing ’round that he’d put you on a train for New York. The whole thing is you’ve been losing sleep.”
Mallory tried to pass the matter over lightly, but Fischer was bound to say what he’d come for.
“I suppose it’s none of my business,” he continued, “but I’ve tried to see you get fair play. And I want to say this: You rush in to fight those fellows to-day, as they’ll try to make you, and you’ll regret it. That’s all. As the challenged party the time is yours to name. If you refuse for a week at least, I’ll back you up and see that it’s all right, and if you don’t you’ll wish you had.”
Having delivered himself of which sage counsel the dignified captain arose to go. Perhaps his consciencetroubled him a little anyhow that he’d stayed so long in a plebe tent.
He thought of that as he came out and espied three members of his own class coming down the street and looking at him. They hailed him as he passed.
“Hey, Fischer!”
They were three who had been the “committee”; they were a committee still, but for a different purpose. Their purpose was to see Fischer, and when he came toward them, they led him off to one side. The message that committee had to give was brief, but it nearly took Fischer off his feet.
“Fischer,” said one, “the fellows have decided about that Mallory business.”
“Yes,” said Fischer. “What?”
“They’ve decided that you’ll be the man to meet him first.”
And the committee wondered what was the matter with Fischer.