"I am almost ashamed of myself for having spoiled another's call,"Prescott told her.
"Oh, don't mind about Mr. Cameron," laughed Laura lightly. "He has plenty opportunity, if he enjoys it, to call at other seasons of the year."
"Oh! Does he?" muttered Dick. He began to feel a most unwarrantable dislike for Mr. Cameron.
"Oh, yes," smiled Laura. "Mr. Cameron is a frequent visitor."
This information had the effect of making Prescott almost feel that he would enjoy kicking that other young man.
"You are old friends, then?" he asked lightly, as he tucked the thin carriage robe about Laura, then picked up the lines.
"No; quite recent acquaintances. We met about four months ago,I think it was."
Though she spoke with apparent indifference, Prescott covertly caught sight of a slight flush rising to the girl's face.
"After all," muttered Dick inwardly, "why not? Laura isn't a schoolgirl any longer, and it certainly most be difficult for any young man who has the chance to call to keep away from her!"
So Cadet Prescott tried to persuade himself that it was all very natural for Mr. Cameron to call and for Laura to be glad to see Mr. Cameron. Dick even tried to feel glad that Laura was receiving attentions—-but the effort ended in secret failure.
Then Dick, as he drove along, tried to tell himself that he didn't care, and that he hadn't any right to care—-but in this also he fell short of success with himself.
So he fell silent, without intending to. Laura, on her part, tried to make up for his silence by chatting pleasantly, but after a while she, too, found herself out of words.
Then, for a mile, they drove along almost in complete silence. Yet Cadet Prescott found plenty of chance to eye her covertly. What he saw was a beautiful girl, so sweet and wholesome looking that he had hard work, indeed, to keep ardent words from rushing to his lips.
"She grows sweeter and finer all the time," he muttered to himself."Why shouldn't men be eager to call, often and long?"
At last the mare stumbled slightly, and Prescott jerked the animal so quickly and almost savagely on the lines that Miss Bentley looked at him with something of a start.
"Dick," spoke Laura at last, turning and looking him frankly, sweetly in the eyes, "have I done anything to offend you?"
"You, Laura?"
"I wondered," she continued. "You have been so very silent."
"I am afraid I was thinking," muttered Dick. "And that's a very rude thing to do when it makes one seem to ignore the lady who is with him," he added, forcing a smile. "I beg your pardon, Laura, ten times over."
"Oh, I don't mind your being abstracted," she answered simply, "so long as I am not the cause of it."
"You——-"
Dick checked himself quickly.
He had been right on the point of admitting that she had been the cause of his abstraction, and such a statement as that would have called for an abundance of further explanation.
So he forced himself into a peal of laughter that sounded nearly natural.
"If I were to tell you what a ridiculous thing I was thinking about,Laura!" he chuckled.
Then his West Point training against all forms of deceit led him to wondering, at once, whether Mr. Cameron could truthfully be defined as "a ridiculous thing."
"Tell me," smiled the girl patiently.
"Not I," defied Prescott gayly. "Then you would find me more ridiculous than the thing about which I was thinking."
"Oh!" she replied, and the cadet fancied that his companion spoke in a tone of more or less hurt.
But, at least, Dick could look straight into her face now, as they talked, and every instant he realized more and more keenly how lovely Miss Bentley was growing to be.
They were driving down sweet-scented country lanes now. The whole scene fitted romance. The cadet remembered Flirtation Walk, at West Point, and it struck him that there was danger, at the present moment, of Flirtation Drive.
"I wonder what the dear girl is thinking about at this present moment?" pondered Dick.
"I wonder what it was that made him so abstracted, and then so suddenly merry?" was the thought in Miss Bentley's mind.
"That was a very pretty road we came through before we turned into this one," commented Dick at a hazard.
"I didn't notice it," replied Laura. "Where are we now? Oh, yes! I know the locality now."
"You have driven out here before—-with Mr. Cameron?"
The words were out ere Cadet Prescott could recall them. He felt indescribably angry with himself. In the first place, the question he had asked was really none of his business. In the second place, his inquiry, under the circumstances, was a rude one.
"Mr. Cameron was in the party," Laura replied readily. "There was quite a number of us; it was a 'bus ride one May afternoon. We came out to gather wild flowers."
"If I had the right," flamed up within the cadet, "I'd soon make Mr. Cameron my business, or else I'd be some of his. But it wouldn't be fair. I'm not through West Point yet, and I may never be. Until my future is fairly assured I'm not going to ask the sweetest girl on earth to commit her future to my hands. Even if I felt that I could, a cadet is forbidden to marry and a two years' engagement is a fearfully long one to ask of a girl. And a girl like Laura has a chance to meet hundreds of more satisfactory fellows than I in two years."
It required all the young soldier's will power to keep silent on the one subject uppermost in his mind. And even Dick realized that some very trivial circumstance was likely to unseat his firm resolve.
What he was trying to act up to was his sense of fairness. Hard as it was under the circumstances, he was more anxious to be fair to this girl than to any other living being.
"I mustn't spoil her afternoon, just because my own mind is so dizzy!" he thought reproachfully.
So, a moment later, he became merrier than ever—-on the surface.
It was Laura's turn to take a covert look at his face. She wondered, for she felt that Prescott's assumed gayety had an almost feverish note.
"How much further are you going to drive?" she asked presently.
"The only pleasure I recognize in the matter, Laura, is yours.So I am wholly at your command."
He tried to answer lightly and gallantly, yet felt, an instant later, that his words had had a strained sound.
The same thought had struck the girl.
Yet, instead of asking him to turn the horse's head about, Laura ventured:
"Gridley must be pleasant, as your home town, yet I fancy you are already looking forward to getting back to your ideals at West Point?"
"Is she tired of having me around?" wondered Cadet Prescott, wincing within, as though he had been stabbed.
"I'm keener for West Point, every day, Laura," he answered quietly. "Yet, even in the case of such a grand old place as the Military Academy, it is worth while to get away once in a while. If it were not for this long furlough, midway in the four years' course, many of us might go mad with the incessant grind."
"Oh, you poor Dick!" cried Laura Bentley, in quick, genuine sympathy."Yes; I think I can quite understand what you say."
And then a new light came into her eyes, as she added, very softly:
"We in Gridley, who hope for you with your own intensity of longings, must take every pains to make this furlough of yours restful enough and full enough of happiness to send you back to West Point with redoubled strength for the grind."
"The same Laura as of yesterday!" cried Dick with sincere enthusiasm."Always wondering how to make life a little sweeter for others!"
"Thank you," she half bowed quietly. "Yes; I want to see your strength proven among strong men."
Again she looked frankly into Prescott's eyes, and he, at the same moment, into hers. His pulses were bounding. What was to become, now, of his resolution to hold back the surging words for at least two more years?
Yet resolutely he stifled the feelings that surged within him. He was a boy, though the training at West Point was swiftly making him over into a man.
"I may lose her," groaned Cadet Prescott. "I may have lost her already—-if I ever had any chance. But a soldier has at least his honor to think of, and no honorable man can ask a woman to give herself to him, and to wait for years, when he isn't reasonably certain he is going to be able to meet the responsibility that he seeks."
Never had Prescott been more earnest, more serious, nor more attentive than during the remainder of that drive. Yet he studiously refrained from giving the girl any hint of the thoughts that were surging within him.
Was he foolish?
Dick felt, anyway, that he was not, for he was waging a mighty fight to stand by his best sense of honor.
The days went by swiftly, merrily.
Dick continued to see all that was possible of Laura Bentley, without seeming to try to monopolize her time.
As for careless, good-humored, nearly heart-free Greg, that young man divided his time almost impartially among several very pretty girls. Cadet Holmes had no thought of arousing baseless hopes in any young woman's mind. He simply had not yet reached the age when he was likely to be tied closely by any girl's bright-hued ribbons.
Tom Reade and Harry Hazelton were much with the young West Pointers. Had Dave Darrin and Dan Dalzell been able to be home from Annapolis at this time, the cup of joy would have been full for all the old chums of Dick & Co. But that was not to be.
Even Reade and Hazelton were home only on limited leave, for they were still very young engineers, who could not sacrifice much time away from their work lest they lose the ground already gained.
So just after the Fourth of July, Tom and Harry left, on a morning train, the two young West Pointers going to the station to see them off with many a handshake, many a yearning wish for the two dear old chums of former days.
"The blamed old town will seem a bit empty, won't it?" demandedGreg, as the cadet pair strolled back from the railway station.
"What'll it be in after years," sighed Dick, "with you up at some fort on the Great Lakes, say, with me in Boston, Tom and Harry somewhere out West, with Dave on the European station and Dan, perhaps, on the China station? Oh, well, chums who want to stick together through life should go in for jobs in the same factory!"
"I suppose we'll get more used to being apart, as the years roll on," muttered Greg. "But I know it would be mighty jolly, this summer, if all the fellows of Dick & Co. could be here in Gridley."
"There's Bert Dodge," whispered Prescott.
"It was hardly worth the trouble to tell me anything about him," retorted Holmes, not taking the trouble to look at their ancient enemy.
"But what a scowl the fellow is wearing," smiled Dick, half in amusement.
"Scowling is his highest pleasure in life," returned Greg.
"He looked at me," continued Dick, as though he had discovered some new reason for hating me."
"If he knew how little thought you gave to him he wouldn't really take the trouble to hate you. Dodge has far more reason to dislike himself. Where are you heading now?"
"Home and to the store," replied Dick. "I just saw the postman leaving. Come along."
As Dick and his chum entered, both his father and mother were behind the counter.
"Dr. Davidson and his wife are in the back room," announced Mrs.Prescott. "They would like to see you, Dick."
"Oh, your new pastor and his wife? Will you excuse me, and wait for me a few minutes, Greg?" asked Dick.
Holmes, nodding, picked up a magazine and seated himself. It was twenty minutes ere Dick came out from that back room. Then the chums started out for another stroll.
"Where are you going now?" asked Greg, suddenly, realizing that his chum was walking at an almost spurting gait.
"In looking over my mail," replied Dick grimly, "I found a letter from Lawyer Griffin."
"What does he want, You don't owe any money, here or anywhere else."
"Griffin wrote me that he wanted to see me about a case that has been placed in his hands," replied Prescott quietly.
Greg started, then changed color.
"Dick," he demanded, "do you know what the lawyer's business is about?"
"The lawyer's letter doesn't state any more than I have told you."
"Dick, that hound Dodge must be up to some trick!"
"I imagine that's the answer," replied Cadet Prescott quietly.
"And you're going to see the lawyer?"
"Yes."
"Humph!" muttered Greg. "I know what I'd do. I'd make the lawyer come to see me."
"But I prefer going to his office."
"Right away?"
"As soon as I can get there."
"And you want me with you?"
"Most decidedly, Greg. I don't care to go into the lawyer's office without a competent witness."
"Then I'm yours, old fellow."
"I know that, Greg."
Despite himself Holmes began to feel decidedly uneasy.
"What on earth can Dodge be up to?" muttered Greg. "He threatened a libel prosecution one day last month. Can it be that he has found people who can be bribed to perjure themselves, and that he is going to make his hint good?"
"It half looks that way," assented Dick.
"Then may a plague seize the cur!" cried Greg, vehemently. "Why, if the fellow can buy other people into making out a case of libel against you——-"
"I might be convicted, and that conviction would cut short my Army career," replied Prescott as quietly as ever.
Greg stopped short in his walk, staring aghast at his chum.
"Why, can Dodge be scoundrel enough for that?" he gasped.
"The best way to judge a man, like a horse, is by the record of his past performances," responded Prescott as quietly as ever.
"So that unutterable cur, since he couldn't remain in the Army, is determined that you shan't, either! Dick, old ramrod, I'm shaking all over with indignation and contempt, and you're as cool as an old colonel going under fire again for the thousandth time!"
"If there's any real danger I guess I'd better remain cool," spokePrescott slowly, though there was a flash of fire in his eyes.
"There's Bert Dodge again!" quivered Holmes, glancing along the street. "Hurry up! Let's meet him. Just on general principles one of us ought to thrash him, and I most joyously volunteer."
"Don't you do anything of the sort," begged Dick quickly. "We don't want to make any matter worse. Here's the building where Griffin has his offices. Come; we'll go up and see him."
The two West Pointers were soon in the lawyer's office. Mr. Griffin was disengaged, and saw the young men at once. This attorney was rather a new-comer in Gridley. Dick and Greg met him for the first time. Prescott rather liked the man's appearance.
"Do you want the whole affair discussed before your friend, Mr.Prescott?" demanded Griffin.
"By all means, sir," Dick responded.
"Very good, then," replied the lawyer, who was still engaged in studying the faces of both cadets.
Then, while the two West Pointers sat before him, their faces impassive, Mr. Griffin continued.
"When I was retained on this case I was asked to put the whole matter before the Grand Jury at its next sitting. It is so very unusual, however, to have criminal cases against West Point men that I insisted with my clients that I would not take a decisive step, Mr. Prescott, until I had first seen you."
"Thank you, sir," nodded Cadet Prescott.
"In brief then," went on the lawyer, "Mr. Dodge and his son Bert have placed a good deal of sworn evidence in my hands, and they have instructed me, Prescott, to procure your indictment on a charge of uttering criminally libelous statements against Bert Dodge!"
Greg Holmes turned very white for an instant.
Then a flush rose to his face. He leaped to his feet, his hands clenched.
"This is an infamous, outrageous, lying——-"
"Thank you, Greg," Prescott broke in coolly. "But will you let me question Mr. Griffin?"
"Yes," subsided Greg, sinking back into his chair. "I don't know that I could say any more. It would be merely a change in the words."
Cadet Prescott turned back to the lawyer.
"Mr. Griffin, will you tell me why you sent for me?"
"Because," replied the man of law, "I have some knowledge of the average West Point material. Frankly, I couldn't wholly credit this charge against you. I wanted to see you and have a talk with you, and I so informed the elder Dodge. Unless you can satisfy me that this is a ridiculous case, or a wholly malicious prosecution, then I shall feel obliged, as a lawyer, to take up the charges with the district attorney, after which we shall proceed in the usual way. But, first of all, I want to have a talk with you."
"That is very fair, sir," replied Dick.
"And I want to be fair," replied the lawyer with emphasis. "I want to make sure that I am not taking part in a case needlessly malicious, and one which, pushed to a needless conclusion, might rob the Army of a valuable future officer."
"I appreciate your courtesy and fairness, and I, thank you, sir,"Dick acknowledged.
"Now, Mr. Prescott, do you mind telling me, in a general way, at least, just what you have said to others about young Dodge since you have been home on your furlough?"
"I would rather, sir, tell you something else instead," replied Cadet Prescott, with the ghost of a smile. "You have some affidavits, Mr. Griffin—-or, at least, you have some witnesses, and they have very likely furnished you with affidavits. The names of your witnesses, or of your most important witnesses, are Fessenden, Bettrick and Deevers. Fessenden was a bank clerk, discharged from the bank by the elder Dodge. Bettrick is a truck-driver, and Deevers is—-well, I understand he has no more important occupation than lounging about drinking places."
"I am sorry that you know the names of my witnesses," replied Lawyer Griffin gravely. "I am beginning to be impressed with the idea that you know their names so readily because you recall having said something in their presence or hearing against young Dodge."
"That is hardly likely," replied Dick, smiling coolly, "because I do not believe that I know either of the three young men by sight."
"Then why," demanded the attorney, eyeing the young West Pointer keenly, "do you know so much about their occupations or lack of occupation? And why do you know that they are all young men?"
"I will tell you," replied Dick. "In the first place, you knowDr. Carter, do you not?"
"Yes."
"He is a reputable physician, isn't he?"
"I believe Dr. Carter to be a very honorable man."
"Do you know Dr. Davidson?"
"I understand that he is one of the new pastors in town," admitted the lawyer.
"You imagine he would make a creditable witness, don't you?"
"Jurors generally accept the testimony of a clergyman at its face value," replied Attorney Griffin.
"Down in one of the tenements of Gridley," pursued Prescott, rising and leaning one elbow upon the corner of the top of the lawyer's roll-top desk, "is a young man named Peters. He is a mill hand who has been away from his work for weeks on account of illness. Dr. Carter has been attending him, probably without charging much if any fee. Last night Peters had a small boy rush out and telephone in haste for Dr. Carter. As it happened, the physician was at his office, and answered quickly. After Dr. Carter had been in Peters's room, perhaps a minute, the physician hurried out into the street, stopping the first man whom he met. That man happened to be Dr. Davidson. The two men returned to Peters's room. Now, all three of them listened."
Lawyer Griffin was eyeing Prescott curiously.
"Yesterday afternoon," continued Dick, changing the subject with seeming abruptness, "Fessenden, Bettrick and Deevers were all here, and signed affidavits before a clerk of yours, who is a notary public."
"Proceed," requested Mr. Griffin, without either denying or admitting the truth of Dick's statement.
"Since he lost his bank position," Dick went on, "Fessenden has been compelled to live in a wretched room next to that occupied by the sick man Peters. Two nights ago, as you will remember, there was a heavy rain. Now, the roof leaked at that tenement house, and the dripping water washed away some of the plaster covering the none-too-thick partition between the room of Fessenden and the room of Peters. So our sick man heard much of the conversation between Fessenden and the fellow's confederates. Now Peters, the physician and the clergyman are all willing to swear to the statement that Bert Dodge hired Fessenden, Bettrick and Deevers to testify against me. Young Dodge, according to the overheard conversation, met and drilled all three in their parts. That was before the three came here yesterday afternoon, with the Dodges, and supplied you with the affidavits that you now hold. For this service, Dodge is believed to have paid each young loafer the sum of twenty dollars, with a promise of eighty more apiece after they had told their tales in court. That, Mr. Griffin, is the other side of the story. Bert Dodge has deliberately hired three men to swear falsely against me."
As he finished Dick dropped carelessly back into the chair. He appeared wholly cool. Not so Greg Holmes, whose face, during this recital, had been a study. Now Greg was upon his feet in a flash.
"How long have you known this, old ramrod?" he demanded.
"Dr. Davidson told me this, in the back room at the store, just before we came here," Prescott replied.
"And you never told me—-didn't even give me a hint?" cried Holmes reproachfully.
"Why, I thought I'd tell Mr. Griffin first," answered Dick.
"I have seldom heard anything that interested me more," admitted the lawyer. "Yet, why didn't you bring Dr. Davidson and Dr. Carter here with you?"
"One good reason," replied Dick bluntly, "was that I didn't know anything about you, Mr. Griffin. I am glad to say that I have found you most fair minded. But, not knowing you, I wanted to see you and judge for myself whether there was any chance that you were in league with my enemies. Had I made up my mind that you were anywhere nearly as bad as young Dodge, I would have let this matter get as far as the courts, when I would have overwhelmed you all with charges of perjury, and would have proved my charges at least against Bert Dodge and his three tools."
"Mr. Prescott, of course I don't mean to throw any doubt over the truth of what you have just told me. At the same time, as counsel for the Dodges, I shall have to satisfy myself on these particulars.
"Do you know Dr. Carter's voice well?" asked Prescott.
"Very well."
"Then kindly allow me to use your telephone."
Pulling the desk instrument toward him, and hailing central, Dick called for "33 Main."
"Hello, is Dr. Carter in," called Dick after a moment. "This is Prescott. Do you recognize my voice? Very good, sir; will you now talk with Lawyer Griffin, who is beside me, and tell him what you heard last night in the room of one Peters? Here is Dr. Cater waiting for you Mr. Griffin."
Lawyer and physician talked together for some minutes, the attorney's excitement increasing. Greg, in the meantime, was executing a silent jig over near the door of the room.
"Now, you can call up Dr. Davidson," suggested Cadet Prescott.
"I don't need to," replied the lawyer. "Dr. Carter has substantiated all that you told me, and has informed me that Dr. Davidson is ready to be called upon for the same information. Instead, I shall call upon some one else."
An instant later the attorney called up another number.
"Hello," he said presently. "Connect me with Mr. Dodge. Hello, is that you, Mr. Dodge? Can you reach your son readily? Oh, he is there at the bank with you, is he? This is Mr. Griffin. I shall expect you both at my office within five minutes. Yes; about the Prescott matter. No; I can't tell you over the 'phone. Both of you come here. Goodbye!"
As though to wind up the conversation abruptly, Lawyer Griffin rang off and hung the receiver on its hook.
"Now, we'll wait and here the other side," remarked the lawyer grimly.
"If the other side dares make its voice heard!" laughed CadetDick Prescott.
There being now no need of silence, Greg Holmes relieved himself of some noisy enthusiasm.
A very few minutes later a knock sounded at the door.
Then Bert Dodge entered very abruptly, his tongue starting with the turning off the knob.
"Well, have you seen the mucker Prescott?" called Bert airily."Was he scared to——-"
Here Bert caught sight of the two West Pointers and stopped short, while his father entered behind him.
"No," broke in Holmes, dryly, "Prescott wasn't even scared silly."
"Oh, you shut up, you two!" growled Bert. "Mr. Griffin, what are these pieces of airy nothing doing here?"
"That advice about preserving silence will very well apply to you, also, Mr. Bert Dodge," rejoined the lawyer. "Take a seat in the background, please. I want to talk with your father."
"What's the matters" demanded Bert, not taking a seat, but advancing and leaning against the top of the lawyer's desk. "Has this fellow won you over with a lot of his smooth talk?"
"Mr. Griffin I warned you that Prescott is a most accomplished liar."
Instead of flaring up at this insult, Dick merely turned to exchange amused smiles with Holmes.
At this moment the attorney was paying no heed to Bert, but was placing a chair courteously for the elder Dodge.
"Now, Mr. Dodge," began the lawyer, speaking rapidly and paying heed only to the father, "I am very glad that I insisted on seeing Mr. Prescott before going further in the case that you placed with me. I expected only a denial. I have, instead, been astounded. Now, listen, sir, while I tell you the all but incredible story."
Thereupon Lawyer Griffin launched into a swift narration of the story told by Dick Prescott and Dr. Carter.
As soon as Bert Dodge began to get wind of what it was all about, his face became ghastly.
"Stop right here, Griffin!" commanded Bert. "This is all a tissue of lies that have been sprung upon you."
"Silence, young man!" commanded the lawyer sternly. "This talk is between your father and myself. As for you, young man, remember to what you have sworn, and bear in mind that the upshot of it all for you may yet be a term of years in the penitentiary."
As the lawyer went on talking there could not be a moment's suspicion that the elder Dodge had been concerned in the plot of perjury. Mr. Dodge had been guilty only of believing his son and of sharing the latter's feigned indignation.
"Now, Dr. Carter has confirmed all of this over the 'phone, and he assured me that Dr. Davidson stood ready to add his testimony," wound up Lawyer Griffin. "Mr. Dodge, what is to be done?"
"Why," stammered Bert's father, "we—-we shall have to drop the whole case."
"What?" raged Bert, his face going purple with anger. "Drop the case on any such stacked-up mess of lies? Father, are you losing all the nerve you ever had?"
"Young man," broke in Lawyer Griffin severely, "you do not appear to have the slightest idea of values. I do not for a moment imagine that your father will go any further in this matter. If he does, it will be necessary for him to get another attorney."
"Why!" challenged Bert, glaring at the lawyer.
"Because the outcome of this case, if it reached court, would be your indictment for conspiracy and the subornation of perjury. The latter is one of the most heinous crimes known to the law."
"But I tell you this is all a tissue of lies trumped up against me!" stormed young Dodge.
While this conversation was going on Dick and Greg remained silent in their seats. They had no need to talk. They were enjoying it all too much just as it was going.
"Do you expect, Dodge, that a court and a jury would take your unsupported word against the testimony of two such men as Dr. Carter and the Rev. Mr. Davidson? Do you imagine, for a moment, that Fessenden and your other tools wouldn't become utterly frightened and confess to everything against you? Do you imagine that anything you could do or say would save you, Dodge, from going to the penitentiary for ten or fifteen years?"
The attorney's cool, incisive manner brought Bert Dodge to his senses.
A deathly fear assailed him. His knees began to shake.
"The case is too well fixed against me," he replied hoarsely."Ye—-es, I guess you had better drop it all."
The elder Dodge now sprang to his feet.
"Drop it, you young scoundrel?" he yelled at his son. "Why did you ever drag me into any such infamous piece of business? I went into this believing that you told me the truth."
"I—-I did, sir," stammered Bert.
"Bah, you are a perjurer, you young villain!" raged his father. "Griffin, this matter cannot go a step further. You will destroy those miserable affidavits before my eyes!"
"I am sorry, Mr. Dodge," replied the lawyer, "but I am not at liberty to do that."
"You can't destroy the affidavits?" howled Bert, his voice breaking."Why not! Aren't you our lawyer?"
"I am even more an officer of the court than I am anyone's attorney," replied Mr. Griffin gravely. "A lawyer has no right to conceal a crime when he knows one has been committed not even to save his own clients."
"Wh—-what do you propose to do, Griffins?" demanded the elderDodge, shaking.
"Why, I hope to save your worthless son from prosecution, Mr. Dodge," returned the lawyer. "But a crime has been committed, in that your son procured others to swear to false affidavits True, the affidavits have not yet been presented in court, and on that I base my hope that the matter will not have to go further. But I feel in honor bound to submit the facts to the district attorney, and to be governed by his instructions."
"You are going to try to send me to jail?" gasped Dodge, clutching at the ledge of a bookcase to save himself from falling.
"I am going to try to persuade the district attorney to let the matter drop," replied Griffin. "It will be the district attorney's decision that will govern the matter."
"Then what are you doing fooling around here, governor?" screamed Bert hoarsely. "Don't you see that it's your job to hurry to the district attorney as fast as you can go? Use your money, your political influence—-"
In his extreme terror young Dodge seemed to forget that he was providing amusement for his enemies.
But Mr. Dodge cut in quickly. Advancing a step or two, he brought his uplifted stick down sharply, once, across his son's shoulders.
With a snarl Bert wheeled, crouching as though to spring upon his father.
Prescott and Holmes jumped up, prepared to step in. But the banker was not cowed by the evil look in his son's face.
"Begone, you young villain!" quivered the old man. "Get out of my sight. Never let me see you again. Don't dare to go to what was once your home, or I'll have you thrown out. I disown you! You are no blood of mine!"
"I guess you forget," sneered Bert cunningly that you are responsible for me, and that you will have to pay my bills."
"Not a penny of them," retorted the banker sternly. "It is you who forget that you reached the age of twenty-one just three days ago. You are your own master, sir—-and your own provider! Now, go—-and never again let any of your family hear from the scoundrel who has disgraced us all."
Vainly Bert opened his mouth, trying to speak. The words would not come. His father again advancing threateningly, Bert edged towards the door.
"This looks like your fun, as it is your work, Dick Prescott!" snarled the wretch. "Wait! If it takes me ten years I'll make you suffer for this!"
Crash! Mr. Dodge had again raised his cane to strike the young man. But Bert had pulled open the door, closing it after him as he fled, and only the plate-glass panel stopped the fall of the cane.
"I'll pay for the damage done to your door Griffin," promised the banker.
"Don't worry about that, sir," nodded the attorney.
"I feel that we've been here long enough, gentlemen," broke in Cadet Prescott, as he and Greg rose. "Mr. Dodge, I can't begin to tell you how sorry I am that this scene was necessary."
"I feel sure of your sympathy. Prescott, and of yours, too, Holmes. Thank you both," replied the banker. "You are both fine, manly young fellows. I wish I had been favored with a son like either of you. Now, I have no son!"
Dick and Greg got away as unobtrusively as they could.
Bert Dodge did try to go home to see his Mother, but, by his father's orders, he was put out of the house by two men servants.
Immediately after that Bert vanished from Gridley. At first he tried the effect of writing whining, penitent, begging letters home. Receiving no replies, Bert finally drifted off into the space of the wide world.
Later on in the course of these chronicles he may reappear.
Lawyer Griffin consulted with the district attorney, and it was decided not to make perjury cases out of the affair. Fessenden, Bettrick and Deevers, however, were all three warned and the district attorney filed away the lying affidavits, in case a use for them should ever come up.
By degrees the story of Bert Dodge's latest infamy leaked out. The news, however, did not come through any word spread by either of our young West Pointers.
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 LauraBentley 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," sighedDick.
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," predictedGreg. "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.
"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.