Having once got a hard gait in mathematics, Dick went steadily on and up until he reached one of the middle sections. There he stopped. It was as high as he could go, with all this competition from the brightest young men in the country.
Greg, too, managed to get well away from the goats, and so was happy.
Through the winter the yearlings, in detachments, had attended the riding hall regularly during the afternoons.
Most of the men, as spring came along, had proven themselves very good cadet horsemen, though all would have chance to learn more during the two years yet ahead of them.
Dodge, who rode in the same detachment with Dick and Greg, was credited with being the poorest rider in the class.
"When you get to be an officer, Mr. Dodge, you'll have to take the yearly walking test for three days. You'll get over the ground quicker and safer than you would on a horse," remarked the cadet corporal.
"Oh, well, sir, I'm going into the doughboys, anyway," grinned Dodge. "It will be a good many years before I can get up far enough in the line to be called upon to ride a horse."
The "doughboys" are the United States Infantry. No company officer in the infantry mounted; only the field and staff officers of the doughboys are provided with mounts.
One cloudy Friday afternoon Cadet Corporal Haskins marched a yearling detachment down to the riding hall. Captain Hall, their instructor, was already in saddle. He turned to receive the report of Haskins after the detachment had been halted at the edge of the tan-bark.
"Stand to horse!" ordered Captain Hall.
The men of the detachments sprang over, each leading out his mount for the afternoon.
"Prepare to mount!"
Instantly each young man stood with one foot in stirrup, one hand at the animal's mane, and one at saddle.
"Mount!"
In perfect unison the yearling cadets swung themselves up into saddle, their right feet searching for and then resting in the stirrup boxes.
Then, at the command, Haskins led his men out in single file.Thus they circled the riding hall twice at a walk.
"Trot!" came Captain Hall's command.
A few rounds of this was followed by the command, "gallop!" Around and around the hall the cadets rode, every man but one feeling the blood tingling with new life through his arteries. It was glorious to stride a horse and to ride at this gait!
Glorious, that is, for all except one man. Dodge rode at the tail end of the line, on a fiend of a horse that had proven disastrous to more than one green rider.
As the "gallop" was ordered, Dodge's mount showed a longing to bolt and dash up to the head of the line. Dodge, throbbing uneasily, reined in hard. His horse began to chafe as it found itself forced back. In another moment Dodge was lagging behind.
"Keep the pace, Mr. Dodge! Keep the pace, sir!" called out CaptainHall.
Bert obeyed, but in fear. He did not know at what instant this uneasy animal would rear and unhorse him.
At last the detachment was halted and the line faced about. Now the detachment rode in reverse direction around the tan-bark.
By this means Dodge became the leader.
Through the walk and the trot, he managed to get along all right, though he was nervous.
"Stick to your saddle, Mr. Dodge!" called Captain Hall. "Don't bump it, sir. Settle down and ride steadily."
Then, an instant later, just as Dodge was beginning to feel secure:
"Gallop!"
Dodge's wild mount gave a snort, then bolted.
"Whoa, you unruly beast!" roared Dodge. Behind him rode the detachment, grimly merry, though with not a flicker of a smile showing.
Bert's horse pulled away, and bolted, with Dodge tugging at the bridle.
Greg, riding behind him, endeavored to bridge the gap.
"Steady, Mr. Holmes!" shouted the cavalry instructor. "You may set the pace until Mr. Dodge regains control of his mount."
Straight around the tan-bark went Dodge and his mount, until the animal was in danger of colliding with Haskins' mount.
"Hard on your off rein, Mr. Dodge! Swing out into the center and bring your horse down!" ordered Captain Hall sternly.
Bert managed to swing out of the line, but that was all. He shot along on the inside, for the horse seemed to have a notion that it was racing the entire detachment, lap by lap.
"Have you utterly lost control of your horse, Mr. Dodge?" shoutedCaptain Hall.
Plainly enough the young man had, for, at that moment, the beast, its mouth sore from the continued tugging against the bits, slackened its pace, then plunged on its forefeet, throwing its heels high in the air.
With a gasp of terror Dodge struck the tan-bark, one shoulder landing first. But he still retained the bridle, and was dragged. The vicious animal wheeled, rearing, and its fore-feet came down aimed at Dodge's face.
Dick Prescott was the nearest cadet horseman at this moment. Suspecting what might happen, Prescott had swung his own mount sharply out of line, riding straight after Dodge.
"Drop your bridle!" called Dick sternly.
Then, just as Dodge's horse was bringing its fore-feet down, Prescott rode against the angry animal, striking it against the flank and shoving it sideways and back. The brute's forefeet struck the tan-bark, but more than two feet from Dodge's head. Bert had presence of mind enough to roll to one side.
In an instant Prescott was down out of saddle, holding his own splendidly disciplined mount by the bridle while he bent over his class-mate.
Dodge lay on the tan-bark, his uniform awry and dirty, and his face blanched with fear of the horse.
"Are you much hurt, Dodge?" asked Dick.
"No, confound you!" muttered Bert under his breath.
As if to prove his lack of injury, he sat up, then rose to his feet.
"Mount, Mr. Prescott, and join the line," noting all with quick eyes. "Mr. Dodge, recapture your horse, mount and fall in."
That was the discipline of the tan-bark. If a cadet falls from a horse and has no bones broken, or no other desperate injury, he must wait until his horse comes around, catch it and mount again. If the horse be excited and fractious, all the more reason why the cadet should capture the beast and mount instantly. A horse must always be taught that a cavalryman is his master.
The riderless brute had fallen in at the tail of the line now, behind Cadet Corporal Haslins, and was going along peaceably enough—-until Bert Dodge made a lunge for the bridle. Then the beast shied, and got past.
"Run after your horse, Mr. Dodge; catch him and mount him," called Captain Hall, fuming that this episode should steal away drill time from the other more capable young horsemen.
"Mr. Dodge," rapped out the cavalry instructor sharply, after Bert had made two more efforts to get hold of the bridle, "are you waiting for a groom to bring your horse to you?"
At this some of the pent-up merriment broke loose. Half a dozen yearlings chuckled aloud.
"Silence in ranks!" ordered the instructor sharply. Then, patiently, though with more that a tinge of rebuke in his tone, the captain added:
"Mr. Dodge, you've taken all the time we can spare you, sir.Catch that horse instantly and mount!"
By sheer good luck Bert managed to obey. But his nerve was gone for the afternoon. He made a sad bungle of all the work, though he was not again unhorsed.
There was bareback riding, and riding by pairs, in which latter feat one man of each pair passed his bridle to the comrade beside him, then rode with folded arms. Then came riding by threes, with the center man holding the bridles from either side, while each of the outer men rode with folded arms. Then, cautiously, the men were taught to stand on the bare backs of their horses and to move at a walk. By and by they would be required to ride, standing, at a gallop.
All through this drill, Dick Prescott rode with precision, power, and even grace.
Yet never had his mind been further from the present work than it was this afternoon.
Had Bert Dodge known more of what Prescott had seen as the former lay for that instant on the tan-bark, Dick's enemy would have fallen from his horse in a delirium of fear.
For, as Bert fell in the center of the tan-bark the left sleeve of his coat had been pushed back, exposing the white linen cuff.
From the inner hem of that cuff, up to the middle, Dick Prescott had gazed, for an instant only, on row after row of small, evenly lettered words or rows of numerals. Prescott had not had time to bend close enough to see which.
Yet no sooner had Dick vaulted back into saddle again than the remembrance of that cuff flashed upon him.
"Dodge has been excelling in daily recitations, yet can't do as well at general review!" flashed hotly through Prescott's mind. "And Dodge, the high-souled one who loathes cribs! If that writing on his cuff isn't a crib of today's math., then I'm a plebe!"
The thought would not down, even for a moment.
Dick became wilder in his thoughts the more he thought about it.
"The cribber! And he sought to blast me here on a false charge of cribbing. For now I know in my soul that he put that paper crib in my handkerchief that Friday morning months ago!"
Dick's indignation, as he rode, was more than personal. True, he longed to show up the sneak who had nearly wound up another and honest cadet's career here at West Point. But there was an even higher purpose in Prescott's mind at the same time. The corps of cadets loathes a cribber as it does any other kind of cheat or liar. It is justly regarded as a moral crime for any cadet, knowing another to be a sneak, stand by and silently allow that sneak to graduate into the brotherhood of the Army.
"Dodge, you cur, every minute, now, is bringing you nearer your own merited disgrace," muttered Dick savagely. "As soon as this detachment is dismissed at barracks I'll denounce you before all the fellows. I'll insist that you expose that cuff—-and you'll have to do it!"
Once Prescott caught himself wondering whether he might not fail through being too hasty. Was it barely possible that the writing on Bert Dodge's left cuff was wholly innocent?
"No! I'm not making any mistake, and I'll prove it to my own satisfaction!" throbbed this cadet who had waited patiently all these months for complete vindication before the corps.
Never had Dick known such relief at being dismissed from riding drill. The detachment formed under Haskins' orders, and marched up the road from riding hall, across the street to the Academic Building, and then, with Corporal Haskins still at the head, turned in at the east sally-port.
But here, right at the entrance to the port, stood Chaplain Montgomery.
"Corporal Haskins," called the chaplain, as he returned the cadet officer's smart salute, "will you excuse Mr. Prescott that I may speak with him?
"Mr. Prescott, fall out!" came Haskins' command.
With a feeling of horror and anguish Dick fell out, saluting Chaplain Montgomery, for the chaplain, though an ordained minister of the church, was also, by virtue of his post of chaplain, a captain of the United States Army.
On moved the detachment, the feet of the cadets moving at a rhythmic beat as these perfect young soldiers moved on across the barracks area.
And all Chaplain Montgomery had to say to Cadet Prescott was to tell him in which bound file of a magazine at the Y.M.C.A. could be found an article about which Dick had asked the churchman a fortnight before.
Dick returned thanks, though he meant no disrespect to the kindly chaplain. Then, saluting, he hurried on after the detachment.
But more than a fatal minute had been lost at the sally-port, and now the detachment was dismissed. The men had been in their rooms for at least forty-five seconds.
"No use to go to Dodge now!" thought Dick despondently. "Whether he knows that I saw that cuff or not, he has removed it and has it safely hidden by this time. Oh, if Chaplain Montgomery could have been a hundred yards further away at that moment!"
It was no use to lament. Dick concluded to wait and bide his time. The chance might yet come to catch Bert Dodge red handed.
"Though, if he suspects that I saw his exposed cuff, he'll take pains that there is not further chance!" decided Cadet Prescott.
After that he went to his room, where he told Greg what he had discovered.
"It's suspicious—-mightily so," declared Holmes. "But it isn't proof—-not yet!"
Nevertheless, Greg, once he had heard, could not get the matter out of his mind either!
"Dick, old fellow, this is going to be a Gridley day for us!It will carry us back to the good old High School days!"
Cadet Greg Holmes was radiant as he moved about their room in quarters that Saturday morning while preparing for the call to breakfast formation.
Until one o'clock these young men of West Point would be busy in the section rooms, as on other week days. But the afternoon of Saturday belonged to pleasure—-on this Saturday to sport!
Lehigh University was sending over the strongest baseball nine it could put up, in the effort to beat West Point on the Military Academy's diamond.
"It'll seem just like good old Gridley High School days," repeatedGreg.
"Yes," smiled Dick darkly, "with the same rascal, Bert Dodge, to keep my thoughts going."
"Dodge won't be in the game, anyway."
"He wasn't much in Gridley, either," smiled Dick darkly.
"Oh, well, forget him until the game is over."
Morning recitations passed off as usual. It was when the cadets came back from dinner,
First, there was a brief inspection, after which cadets, with leave to visit the West Point Hotel, or officers' homes, strolled away to meet young women friends.
"I'm due to be only a rooter today," sigh Greg, as he saw his roommate start off to the gym to meet the other members of the nine.
"Your luck may change," rejoined Dick. "You'd better go along to the gym. You're the sub. shortstop, you know, and Meacham may not be on deck. Better come along, now."
"I will, then; I wasn't going over until just before time to get into togs and sit on the bench."
Up to this time, neither Prescott nor Holmes had judged their academic standing to be good enough to make it safe for them to enter into sports. This winter and spring, however, had found them "safe" enough for them to go into training with the baseball squad.
Dick had tried for the position of pitcher, but Kennedy had been chosen, while Prescott had gone to second base. Tatham was the sub. pitcher.
"Say, have you seen the Lehighs?" demanded Furlong, as the chums joined the crowd at the gym. "They're big fellows. They weigh a ton and a half to our ton."
"Lightness and speed count for more than beef in this game," smiledPrescott.
"Lehigh has sent some huskies, all right, and they look as if they'd give us a tough battle."
In baseball and football West Point plays college teams. The college men are generally older and much heavier. Besides, the college men, not having the same intense grind at their institutions, are able to devote four or five times as much actual time to the work of training.
Despite these handicaps, the West Point team generally holds its own end up very well indeed. The West Point men have one advantage; they are always in training, for which reason their bodily condition is always good. It is in the finer points of the technique of the game that the United States military cadets suffer from less practice.
Maitland, of the second class, was captain of the team this year.He was a much disturbed man when Dick and Greg reached the gym.
"What ails Maitland?" Dick asked Furlong.
"Haven't you heard? Kennedy is a great tosser, but he has his bad days when his wrist goes stale. And Tatham, the sub., fought his way through a poor dinner, but then he had to give up and go to hospital. He's threatened with some kind of fever, we hear. That leaves us without a sub. today."
"Oh, does it?" thought Prescott. With quick step and eager eye he sought Captain Maitland, who was also catcher for the nine.
"Mr. Maitland, I understand you're without a satisfactory sub. pitcher for today?"
"Confound it, yes; we're praying for the strength of Kennedy's wrist."
"You may remember that I tried for pitcher."
"I know you did," replied Maitland gloomily. "But the coaches thought Kennedy and Tatham ahead of you."
"If Kennedy should go bad today," pressed Dick eagerly, "I trust you will be willing order me in from second to the box. I know that I won't disappoint you. Ebbett and Dunstan are both good men at second."
Captain Maitland looked thoughtful.
"I'm afraid, Prescott, if Kennedy does happen to go stale, we'll have to call on you."
"I won't disappoint you, if you do, Captain!"
Then Maitland turned to regard Meacham, who was entering at that moment.
"What on earth ails you, Meacham?" demanded the worried captain of the nine.
"I was at a loot party last night," confessed Meacham miserably.
"Overeating yourself—-when you're in training, man?"
"Honestly, Maitland, I didn't believe the little that I put down was going to throw me. There wasn't a murmur until eleven this morning, and I felt sure that was going to work off. But it won't, and, oh, my!"
West Point's shortstop put his hands over his belt line, looking comically miserable. But to Captain Maitland there was no humor in the situation.
"You're a fine one!" growled Maitland. "Oh, Holmesy! Come over here, please. You haven't been teasing your stomach, have you?"
"I don't know that I have a stomach," replied Greg promptly.
"You'll play shortstop today, then."
Half an hour later, the Lehigh fellows were out on the field, going through some practice plays. Below the center of the grandstand, the West Point band was playing its most spirited music. The seats reserved for officers and their families, and for invited guests, were filling up rapidly. At the smaller stand, over at the east side of the field, Lehigh had some two hundred friends and rooters.
Now on to the field marched the corps of cadets, filing into the seats reserved for them, just north of the officers' seats.
Now, the band began to play the U.S.M.A. songs, the cadets joining in under the leadership of the cheer-master.
Then, amid a storm of West Point yells, the Army nine strode on to the field. Things moved quickly now. Lehigh won the toss and went to bat.
Kennedy appeared to be in excellent form. He struck out the first two Lehigh men at bat. The third man, however, gained first on called balls. The fourth man at bat drove a two-bagger, and now second and third were occupied. As the fifth of the Lehigh batsmen stepped up to the plate, the Lehigh cheers resounded, and West Point's rooters sat in tense silence. What was the matter with Kennedy? But the Army pitcher struck out his man, and Lehigh went out to grass without having scored. Lehigh's revenge, though, was swift. Three West Point men were struck out almost as rapidly as they could move to the plate.
In the second inning both sides got men to bases, but neither side scored. In the third Lehigh took one solitary run, but it looked well on the score-board at the north end of the field. West Point, in the last half of the third, put men on first and second, but that was all.
By the fourth inning, Kennedy was pitching a bit wildly. Maitland gazed at his comrade of the battery with anxious eyes. Lehigh began to grin with the ease of the thing now. One after another men walked to bases on called balls, until all of the bags were occupied.
Suddenly Kennedy, after taking a twist on the ball, signaled Maitland.The captain turned the umpire and spoke.
"Kennedy's old trick! He's gone stale and Tatham is down at hospital," passed from mouth to mouth among the home rooters. "Now, what's left for us?"
After a brief conversation with the umpire Maitland signaled. Dick Prescott came bounding in from second, to receive the ball from Kennedy, while Ebbett was seen racing out to second.
"Play ball!" called the umpire crisply.
"Oh, pshaw!" called one of the cadets. "In training season Prescott tried for pitcher and the coaches turned him down. Now we're done for today!"
Spirits were gloomy among the West Point rooters. Yet, within a few moments, they sat up, taking notice.
Dick, with his nerves a-tingle, his eye keen, measured up the Lehigh batsman and sent in one of his old-time, famous Gridley spit-balls. It looked slow and easy. The Lehigh man swung a well-aimed crack at the ball.
"Strike one," announced the umpire.
Again Prescott turned his wrist and twirled.
"Strike two!"
Then an outcurve.
"Strike three! Out!"
Lehigh began to look with some interest at this new, confident pitcher.
The next Lehigh man to bat met a similar fate. So did the third man.
Now, the West Point yells went up with new force and purpose.
The corps yell rose, loud and thunderous, followed by three cries of "Prescott!"
In their half of the inning, West Point put men on first and second, but that was the best they could do.
So it dragged along to the seventh inning. Army rooters were now sure that West Point's star pitcher had been found at last, and that Lehigh would have rare luck to score again today. But West Point didn't seem able to score, either, and Lehigh had the one needed dot.
As Army went to bat Greg took up the stick and swung it expectantly.
"Do something, Greg," Dick had whispered. "I'm the second man after you, and I'll back you if you can get a start. Remember the old Gridley days of victory. Get some of that same old ginger into you!"
Holmes, as he swung the stick over the plate, seemed to feel himself back on the old athletic field of Gridley High School. And these stalwart college boys before him seemed to him to be the old, old Tottenville High School youngsters.
One strike Greg essayed and lost. At the second offer, he hit the ball a sharp crack and started. He reached first, but as he turned, the ball fell into the hands of Lehigh's second baseman, and Greg fell back to safety at first.
Ebbett, who followed, hit at the third offer, driving the ball almost under the feet of Lehigh's right-fielder. As that man seized it he saw that Greg was within kicking distance of second bag, so he threw to first and Ebbett was out.
Dick now stepped confidently forward. He looked at Lehigh's tired pitcher with a challenging smile.
At the first offer, Prescott struck the leather sphere—-crack! In an instant Greg was in motion, while Dick raced as though bent on catching his chum. The ball had gone out over the head of center, who was now faithfully chasing it across outfield. Greg came in and hit the plate amid a cyclone of Army enthusiasm. The band was playing in sheer joy. Dick kicked second bag, then darted back as he saw the ball drop into the hands of the Lehigh catcher, who promptly sent it spinning straight into the third baseman's hands.
Then Maitland gained first on called balls, and Furlong did the same, which advanced Prescott to third.
Now Carson came up with the stick, sending out a slow grounder.
In like an Apache runner came Prescott, kicking the plate just before the ball dropped.
From the seats of the Army came the triumphant yell:
"North point, east point, south point, West Point—-two points!"
The next Army man struck out, but West Point was breathing, now, with score two to one.
"Don't let Lehigh put another dot on the card, Prescott, and you'll be our pitcher this year," promised Maitland.
"Wait and see if the visitors can get any more from us," laughed Dick coolly. He felt that he had his old Gridley winning gait on now. He proved it by striking out three straight in the first half of the eighth. But West Point did not score, either, in that inning.
Then came Lehigh, grim and desperate, to bat for the ninth time. The first man Dick struck out. But even his wrist seemed to be treacherous now. The second Lehigh man offered at nothing, and went to first on called balls. So did the second, and a third man, and the bags were filled.
Maitland glanced appealingly at Dick.
The new batsman, at the second offer, drove a slow grounder. Greg Holmes raced forward for it, like a deer. As he caught it up there was no perceptible pause before he sent it straight into Maitland's hands, and the man headed for the plate was out. But the three bags were again full.
Another Lehigh man hit one of Dick's drives, but only faintly with the edge of his bat, and he went out on a foul hit.
"Now, I'm going to strike this new man out," resolved Dick desperately, steeling nerves and muscles for the effort.
"Strike one!" called the umpire. "Ball one! Ball two! Strike two! Strike three! Out!"
It was over, and Lehigh, covered with chagrin, gave up the contest, while a pandemonium of Army cheers went loose. Two to one!
"Prescott, I guess you're our pitcher here-after" called Maitland hoarsely. "And you, Holmesy, for shortstop!"
Dick Prescott found himself the center of a swift rush of cadets. Then he was hoisted aloft, and rushed off the field in triumph and glory, while the corps yell rang out for him. Over in the gym. Prescott was forced to hold an impromptu reception. Greg got much of the ovation.
Captain Verbeck, the head coach, came up to grasp Dick's hand.
"Prescott, I don't understand how you ever got by us. But Maitland wants you for our star pitcher after this, and you'll have to be. It was the greatest Army game, from the box, that I've seen in many a year."
"Say, you fellows," greeted Anstey, breaking into their room after the chums had returned to barracks, "you two had better go over today, and the men who are to drag the spooniest femmes tonight are all plotting to write you down on the dance cards of their femmes."
"That's the best reason in the world for keeping away from Cullum, then," laughed Dick.
"But I mean it seriously," protested Anstey.
"So do I," replied Dick
"I'm really a committee of one, sent here by some of tonight's draggers," protested the Virginian.
"Tell them of your non-success, then, do," urged Dick. "For I'm not going to Cullum tonight. Are you, Greg?"
"Ye-es," returned Holmes promptly. Then, suddenly, he paused in his moving about the room.
He now stood looking at his left hand, on which appeared a small smear of black.
"No!" suddenly uttered Greg. "I'm not going. I've changed my mind—-and for the best reasons possible."
"Now, what on earth has made you so excited?" demanded Anstey wonderingly.
"Are you going to the hop tonight?" asked Holmes, looking up with gleaming eyes from the smear on the back of his hand.
"No," admitted Anstey.
"Can you keep a secret?
"Yes, suh; suhtinly."
"Then come here at 8.15 to-night."
"What are you talking——-"
"I'm not talking,now," retorted Greg with a resolute tone in his voice. "Like a wise man, I'm going to do some thinking first. But you call around this evening. It'll be worth your while."
Anstey looked and felt highly mystified. It must be something both sudden and important to make Greg change his mind so swiftly. For Cadet Holmes, who, in his home town, had not been exactly noted for gallantries to the other sex, had, in the yearling class, acquired the reputation of being a good deal of a "spoonoid." This is the term applied to a cadet who displays a decided liking for feminine company.
"I can see that it isn't any use to ask you anything now," went on Anstey.
"It isn't," Greg returned promptly. "I'm never secretive against you, Anstey, old man and the only reason I don't talk at once is that I don't know just what I want to say. But remember—-8.15. By that time I think I shall have solved myself into a highly talkative goat yearling."
Rap-tap! at the door, and Furlong and Dunstan dropped in.
"Want to tell you what I think about your pitching, old ramrod," announced Furlong.
"It's rotten!" glowed Dunstan cheerfully "And your shortstop work,Holmesy——-"
"What kindergarten nine did you play with last?" insisted Furlong.
"I was just making up my mind not to pitch again this season," grinned Cadet Prescott.
"Why not?" Furlong demanded.
"Milesy," laughed Dick, "you should never go out on a kidding expedition until you're sure you're josh-proof yourself. Do you think anything less than the coaches and the team captain could stop me from pitching? But I sorry for Ken, if I'm to supplant him."
"You needn't be. Kennedy is glad. He hopes to make the cavalry, and he says he wants to train that wrist for wielding a sabre."
"Can you two near-plebes find time to drop in this evening, at just 8.15?" demanded Greg.
"Certain idea! What's up, Holmesy?"
"It isn't a feed," declared Greg. "But I think you'd be sorry afterwards if you failed to come."
"We'll be here," promised Dunstan.
"Then I guess our party will be complete," mumbled the mysteriousGreg.
"Say, Holmesy," nudged Dunstan, "how did you get that smear on the back of your hand? Do you know, it looks like the famous one that Cadet Dodge rubbed off with a borrowed handkerchief, once on a time."
"Does it?" asked Greg innocently. "Be good enough to loan me your handkerchief, then?"
"Not much!" growled Dunstan, backing away. "The loaning of personal linen seems on its way to becoming a court-martial offence."
When the visitors had left, Dick turned on his chum, demanding curiously:
"What's the game for tonight, anyway, Greg?"
"You didn't see how I got this smear on my hand, did you, old ramrod?"
"No."
"Then I'm not going to tell you at present," replied Greg, going to his washbowl and pouring in water. "But the way I got it set me to thinking.
"About what?"
"Well, about the way Bert Dodge got his hand smeared back in the days of ancient history. And, old ramrod, I believe that following up the clue may lead to some other discoveries that will possess a vital interest for you."
"But——-"
"No more at present! That's a special order," affirmed Greg."Be good, like the rest, and wait until 8.15 to-night."
At supper, in cadet mess hall, the talk all naturally turned to the diamond game with Lehigh that afternoon. The Army, at the outset, had hardly expected to win against that year's Lehigh nine. When the game was well under way, Army hopes had been still lower. Now, the talk was all on how Prescott and Holmes had saved the game to the Army. Even Maitland, without a trace of jealousy, conceded them most of the credit.
"What has cherubic, spoonoid Holmesy got up his sleeve for 8.15?" asked Dunstan in an undertone of Anstey.
"I reckon, suh, you'll have to apply for particulars to the Information and Security Service, suh," replied the Virginian. "To the best of my belief, suh, the secret is all Mr. Holmes's."
So no more questions were asked. But at 8.15, to the second, Furlong and Dunstan tapped on the Prescott-Holmes door, and, as they did so. Anstey turned at the head of the stairs. Punctuality is one of the cardinal virtues of the soldier; to be a half minute late is a grave breach of etiquette; to be five minutes late amounts almost to a crime.
"Now, Holmesy, we want light," insisted Furlong.
"At first blush," returned Greg, "some of you may not like the job. It is nothing more nor less than a visit to Dodge's room, while he and Blayton are absent at the hop."
"It is an extreme measure, surely," murmured Dunstan.
Anstey remained silent, waiting for further particulars.
"What I would call to your attention," went on Greg, "is that my roommate, old ramrod, was nearly bounced out of West Point for something he never did. I believe, and probably you all do, that Mr. Dodge played an evil and guilty part in what became nearly a tragedy."
"I wouldn't put anything mean beyond Dodge," replied Furlong.
"Now, I believe I can take you to Dodge's room. Both he and Brayton are absent at the hop. Brayton has always been a decent fellow, I don't believe he admires Dodge any too much, but he has to put up with his roommate. Now, in that room I hope to find evidence which will prove that Dodge is not fit to be a member the corps of United States Military Academy cadets. Will you come with me and look for the proof?"
"I suhtinly will, suh," replied the Virginian promptly.
"If Anstey will go on a job like that," muttered Dunstan, "thenI guess it's a proper undertaking for gentlemen."
"I thank you, suh," nodded the Virginian gravely.
"Then come along, all hands," begged Greg. "If we find anything of the sort that I expect to, then there will be witnesses enough to prove the find to the satisfaction of the class and of the corps."
Feeling like so many conspirators, this committee of five moved along to Dodge's room. Greg went a little ahead and tapped. Had Dodge been there it would not have interfered seriously with his plans. But there was no answer, so Holmes pushed open the door, turning the gas half on and lighting it.
"This afternoon," declared Greg, "I dropped a stub of a pencil in our room. It fell on the bricks of the floor of the fireplace, and rolled into the space between two of the bricks. In getting that pencil out I got on the back of my hand the smear that you all saw.
"Fellows, I've been thinking for weeks and months about that smear on the back of Mr. Dodge's hand. When I saw the one on the back of my own hand it occurred to me at once how Mr. Dodge might have got that black spot on his hand. It came over me, all in a flash. I knew that Brayton and Mr. Dodge would be out of the way this evening at the hop. Dodge has a hiding place somewhere in this room. From the past history of the Academy we know that favorite hiding places have always been under the bricks of the fireplaces. For use in the winter time the hiding place must be in the outer edge of the brick flooring, close up to where it joins the boards. In such a hiding place the fire wouldn't harm the hidden objects. Now, some of you might help me to see what we can find."
Anstey, with a gravely judicial air, knelt beside Holmes. Together they tapped back and forth over the bricks with rulers taken from the study tables.
"This is the brick that hides the place, I reckon, suh," announced the Virginian rather deliberately.
"Let's pry it up, then," suggested Greg.
But the brick resisted rather strenuous efforts.
"That's odd, in itself," muttered Holmes. "Almost of the bricks in these fireplaces come up as easily as a naval apprentice's dinner. Anse, we've got to work at this brick until we have loose. It surely hides something."
"We mustn't damage either the wooden or brick flooring," warnedFurlong. "If we did find anything, after all, think of the rowDodge could raise over the vandalism in his room."
So the time slipped by, faster than any of them knew. But these five cadets, now satisfied that the obdurate brick really did hide a secret toiled on with no thought of surrender.
At last they struck the combination. The brick back of the one that so resisted their efforts was finally pried up, after a good deal of effort. This opening laid bare a neat but powerful spring.
Had they had, at the outset, the whole secret of this spring, they could have raised the resisting brick in a second's time.
"Get it up—-must have a look!" cried Prescott hoarsely.
It was Greg who raised the brick that had resisted their efforts for so long. Underneath Cadet Holmes found a collection of things that chained the attention of all, as each took eager looks in turn.
"Going to put the stuff back, for the present?" asked Anstey, with an odd quiver in his voice The honorable Virginian was upset by what he had seen.
"Not never!" retorted Greg with ungrammatical emphasis. "It won't be just the thing for old ramrod and myself to have it, either. Milesy, you and Dunstan take it along with you. Now, old ramrod, just what had we better do?"
"I don't see anything for it but to root out again after taps and the subdivision inspector's visit tonight," muttered Dick, who was alternately pale and flushed over the discovery, and all that it meant. "Gentlemen, will you come softly to my room fifteen minutes after the sub-division inspector's official visit at taps?"
Greg and Anstey restored the bricked flooring of the fireplace so that nothing indicated the late search.
Then, Dunstan and Furlong carrying away the discovered stuff, the five prowlers turned out the gas and separated.
At a few minutes after eleven, that same April night, five cadets fully dressed stole down the corridor, and the leader laid a hand on Dodge's doorknob.
In another moment they had stepped inside and their arrival awakenedCadet Brayton.
"Plebes' quarters next floor up, brothers," called Brayton in drowsy good nature.
"I'm sorry to say, Brayton, we're on the right floor, and in the right room," responded Dunstan. "But this visit won't bother you!"
The noise of voices awoke Bert Dodge with start. He awoke with a snort, then sat bolt upright, peering in the dark.
"Wh—-who's there?" he demanded hoarsely.
"A committee on class honor, Mr. Dodge," replied Furlong, whileAnstey added, with ironic politeness:
"Don't be alahmed, suh. We do not believe you to be possessed, suh, of any of the commodity of which we are in search."
"Brayton" asked Greg, "will you be good enough to slip into your bathrobe and hang your blankets over the window? Then we can have some light. That's one thing we're going to need," he added significantly.
"Don't you do it, Bray," broke in Dodge stiffly. "As for you fellows, the best thing you can all do is to go back to your cradles. Bray and I want to sleep the night through. And you've no business here, anyway."
"I'm afraid you've missed the point, suh?" replied Anstey with bored patience. "That is exactly why we're here, suh—-because we have business here."
Brayton had slipped into his bathrobe and was now crossing the room with blankets on one arm.
"Chase 'em out, Bray; don't hang any blankets for them to run a light behind," begged Dodge.
"I'm afraid I'd better," murmured Brayton, as he stood on a chair and reached up to put the blankets in place. Didn't you hear the announcement that this is a committee of honor? The class has a right to send one to any man, and Prescott, the class president, is here. There, those blankets will hold and shut in all light. Turn on the gas, Holmesy, if you will."
"You'd better get into robe and slippers, too, Mr. Dodge," hinted Dunstan strongly. "Our business is with you, and I think you'll feel more at ease on your feet."
"What is all this nonsense about, anyway growled Dodge, as he slipped out of bed and wrapped himself in his dressing gown.
"That's what we'll ask you to explain," retorted Greg. "But let us go about this in a regular manner. In the first place, Brayton, please understand that you are not being investigated. It is Mr. Dodge who is under suspicion."
"Yes; under fine suspicion!" snarled Dodge. "You mean I'm to be the victim of a plot hatched by my two old enemies back in the home town."
But Greg, ignoring him, turned to his chum.
"Dick, old ramrod, as you're the aggrieved one, I don't suppose you can exactly act as class president in this case. But you can designate some other member of the class to act in your place."
"Then I'll name Mr. Anstey," replied Dick. "I believe he will be satisfactory to everyone."
"Not to me!" snapped Bert Dodge, his uneasy gaze roving from one face to another. "The class president can't name his own substitute."
"Silence!" commanded Brayton, turning on his roommate. "Of course the class president can delegate his duties, temporarily, to another."
"Take this matter in charge, Mr. Anstey," begged Dick, turning to the Virginian.
"Mr. Dodge," continued the Virginian, "be good enough, suh, to pay good heed to what I have to say. That will be necessary, in fairness to yourself, suh. I'll begin at the beginning."
Anstey began with the handkerchief-borrowing episode in barracks area. He dwelt upon the accusation against Cadet Prescott, the court-martial, and the further fact that even the verdict of acquittal had not, at first, been fully accepted by all members of the corps of cadets clearing Dick of the fearful suspicion against his honor.
"What has all this to do with me?" snarled Dodge. "Is Prescott trying to revive his old and infamous hints against me?
"Wait a moment, Mr. Dodge," continued Anstey patiently. "Now will now move along to the drill in the riding hall yesterday afternoon."
Anstey then described the bared cuff that Prescott had seen onDodge's left wrist.
"That's a lie," rasped out Dodge.
But Anstey heeded him not; Prescott merely smiled. But the sight of that smile maddened Dodge, who sprang up, crying:
"Yes! You think you have it all cooked up against me, Dick Prescott!But you'll find that truth and right will win."
Dick did not answer, but Anstey, looking impressively at the culprit, declared:
"Mr. Dodge, tonight, while you were away, we pried up that brick!"
Every vestige of color fled from Bert's face. He seemed about to fall, but he clutched at the chair back and remained standing.
"Of course, Mr. Dodge, you know what we found there. Brayton, you don't so you will interested in seeing the things. Milesy, be good enough to spread the collection on that table. Here, you see, first of all, is the cuff of yesterday. Even the writing, in India ink, remains on it. And here are reddish stains, made by the impact of that cuff with the tan-bark of the riding hall. Here are slips of paper on which the main features of the hardest math. problems of each day have been noted down, ready for writing on a cuff. Here is the water-proof ink and the pen with which the writing on the cuff was done. And here are some other slips of paper, evidently older, on which other problems have been written out more fully. These older slips of paper contain problems of last November and early December—-the time when Prescott was in his deep trouble. Now, these older slips are of paper just like the piece that fell from the handkerchief that Prescott took out of his blouse on that tragic day. Somewhere in the files the authorities have that slip that figured in the charges at Prescott's trial by general court-martial. I imagine, on comparison, that slip will be found to be on paper identical with these slips containing older problems. And you will note that these older slips are written on with a typewriting machine, with crude figures drawn in, just as in the case of the slip that figured Prescott's trial. Now, Mr. Dodge, isn't it plain to even the dullest mind that you have been systematically cribbing at math., and that it is to that fact you owe your present high standing in the yearling class?"
"Now that I think of it," remarked Brayton, turning and fixing his roommate with a frigid, hostile stare, "I have, on at least two occasions, entered this room just in time to see Mr. Dodge spring up hastily from near the fireplace. But I am a dull-witted fellow, I suppose, and I didn't suspect.
"Have you anything to say, Mr. Dodge?" demanded Anstey.
"Nothing," barely gasped the detected wretch.
"Then I will say something instead, suh," continued the Virginian. "I would rather the task fell to someone else, but this work has been delegated to me, and I must see it through, suh. Mr. Dodge, we are all satisfied that you are a miserable, lying, sneaking hound, suh, not worthy to associate with gentlemen. We are satisfied, suh, that you are without honor or principle, and that you will never be fit to become an officer of the Army."
"Now, see here, fellows," broke in Dodge in a whining tone, "if you'll be generous and give me another chance, I can live this down."
"Then you admit that which we have been stating against you, do you, suh?" questioned the Virginian. "It will be best for you to be wholly honest, suh!
"Yes—-yes—-I—-admit—-it," cried Dodge brokenly. "But I didn't deliberately plan for Prescott's undoing—-on my honor, I didn't! What happened was this: When I took Prescott's handkerchief with one hand, I had that crib in the other hand. After using the handkerchief, I found that I couldn't pass it back without either letting the crib be seen, or else tucking the crib into the handkerchief. So I had to do the latter thing. But that was as far as I was guilty—-on my honor, gentlemen!"
"Then you expect us to believe in the honor of a cadet who dishonors himself by sneaking cribs into a section room?" demanded Anstey with mild but withering sarcasm.
"Give me just one more chance, gentlemen!" faltered Dodge. "I pledge you my word that, henceforth, I'll do everything that is creditable and honorable, and nothing that isn't!"
"We have a somewhat different proposition for you, Mr. Dodge," observed the Virginian. "We want no more of your stripe. We would degrade the entire Army, and the whole people of the United States of America if we allow you to remain here. Tomorrow, at an early hour, you will hand in your resignation as a cadet, to take effect upon acceptance. If you fail, we will lay before the superintendent and the commandant of cadets all the evidence that we have against you, including your own confession. You will then have to face a general court-martial and be dismissed from the service in the deepest disgrace that can come to a cadet."
Bert Dodge sank to his knees, holding his clasped hands up before him.
"Don't insist on that, gentlemen! Don't! Spare me the disgrace!Spare my parents!
"Mr. Dodge," replied Anstey sternly, "honor is the watchword in the United States Military Academy, and all through the Army. We couldn't spare a dishonorable wretch like you, suh, without sharing in your disgrace. And I have not told you all that we require. As soon as you have gone to your home you will write a letter to the superintendent, exonerating Mr. Prescott from all suspicion in that fearful affair. You will admit that you alone were guilty. According to custom, that letter will be read before the battalion in special orders and the entire corps will then know how fully Cadet Prescott is worthy of being one of us."
"Write that letter?" demanded Dodge, leaping to his feet, but cowering. "Never! You are taking an unfair, unmanly, ungenerous advantage of me! You shall never have any such letter from me!"
Still patiently Anstey turned to Greg.
"Mr. Holmes, will you be kind enough to go to the room of Mr. Packard of the first class, also Mr. Maitland, of the second class, and present my very respectful compliments? Will you ask both gentlemen if they can make it convenient to come here, forthwith, on a matter of corps honor?"
Greg departed. He was back within five minutes, simply nodding. Very soon Mr. Packard and Mr. Maitland appeared. They listened silently while Anstey laid the story before them. Then Packard glanced at the second classman.
"Shall I speak for us both, Maitland?"
"If you please."
"Mr. Anstey, and gentlemen," continued Packard, "this is primarily a matter affecting your own third class, and should be settled by the members of your class. But, in its broader scope, the conduct to which Mr. Dodge has confessed affects the entire corps. Mr. Dodge charges that you are abusing your power. Maitland and I beg to differ with him. Mr. Anstey, you have done the only thing that can be done in such a case of infamy and dishonor. Mr. Dodge will, of course, send in his resignation tomorrow; it will be much easier for him than facing disgrace of a more public kind through a published verdict of a general court-martial. As soon as Mr. Dodge has reached his home he will also write that letter exonerating Mr. Prescott; I am sure he will. If he does not, the corps will then take steps to turn the evidence over to the representative of the Associated Press, and of the largest newspapers in the country. In other words, Mr. Dodge, by refusing to write that letter, will face a vastly larger exposure all through the country. Now, Maitland, as this is, first of all, a class matter, I feel that we have offered enough. Gentlemen, if you have no further need of us, we will withdraw."
The self-appointed committee of the yearling class withdrew a moment after, Furlong and Dunstan carrying with them the evidence.
Bert Dodge tendered his resignation promptly. Within a week the notice of its acceptance by the Secretary of War was published before the battalion, and Dodge skulked away, alone, unregretted and utterly crushed, to the railway station. During the last few days he had been "cut" by every man in the corps.
Three days after his departure the superintendent of the United States Military Academy received a letter that caused him much astonishment. In this letter Dodge briefly confessed that he, and he alone, was the guilty party in that cribbing affair, and Dick Prescott had had no guilty share or knowledge in the incident.
"Hm!" mused the superintendent, a grim smile passing over his face. "This Dodge business has all the ear-marks of another affair of Army honor settled unofficially by the corps of cadets."
Dodge's letter was published in a special order then read before the corps of cadets, and the affair was closed.
Dick and Greg continued to play in the Army nine the rest of that spring. It was one of the most brilliant of Army seasons on the diamond, and much of the credit was due to yearlings Prescott and Greg.
Baseball was at last cut short by the arrival of the busy graduation season.
Immediately after the proud and happy graduating class had left to take up its new life in the scattered Army of the United States, the yearling class dropped that designation and became the new second class at West Point. As members of the new second class, these happy youngsters laid aside their uniforms for two and a half months, and, in citizens' clothes, made their rush away from the Military Academy to begin the summer furlough that comes but once in the cadet's more than four years of Academy life.
That evening found Greg and Dick in New York City. Happy as small boys, they looked at the great city in genuine glee.
"I feel like rubbing my eyes, Greg, old chum!" laughed Dick."Are we dreaming, or can such large cities actually be?"
"It seems to me that I have a remembrance of large towns in some previous stage of existence, somewhere in the universe," sighed Holmes ecstatically. "But this town is bigger, noisier, fuller of life and fun than anything I can recall."
"We have until midnight before the home train leaves," pursued Dick.
"Home! Now, that is something of which I have a much keener recollection!" cried Greg, his eyes moistening. "Dick, I'm afraid that, if there were a train earlier than midnight, even the big town wouldn't detain me."
"But there isn't an earlier train, Greg, and there are no taps or sub-division inspectors tonight. What shall we do?"
"First of all, then," proposed Greg gleefully, "let us see if there is a place in New York where they know the meaning of the big feed."
"And then the theater!" chuckled Dick.
"Which we'll reach in one of those wonderful vehicles that the natives call taxicabs!"
They found a place without difficulty.
"Then to walk along Broadway with its flashing lights; then the railway station!"
"The train!"
"Home in the morning!"
"We'll start with a taxi," proposed Greg. "Here's an empty one coming. Here, chauffeur. Yes! The Waldorf!"
What befell our cadets thereafter will be reserved for the next volume in this series, which is published under the title, "Dick Prescott's Third Year At West Point; Or, Standing Firm for Flag and Honor."
This story will be a rare treat, one that will make the blood bound faster in the arteries of any real American boy. A narrative of surpassing interest and thrilling adventures in the military cadet's life is promised.