“Where is Vench now?” asked Don.
“Inside.”
“Inside Clanhammer Hall!” cried Don sharply.
“Yes. He went in early to look the place over, and we were to join him in there.”
Don was taken aback at the news. If there was anything to be learned in that hall Vench might stumble on it, and he was disappointed to think that someone beside himself had been in Clanhammer first. Well, there was just one thing to do and that was to enter the old school himself. He turned to the waiting cadets.
“You fellows get back to your rooms at once, and do it without being seen by anyone. I won’t report you unless you disobey me. You’ve been a lot of silly fools to listen to Vench at all. Why, if you are caught you will probably be expelled! Have your dance when the colonel returns but not now. Now get back, before I am compelled to turn in a report of this.”
The seven cadets, glad of the chance to escape from an adventure which had begun to worry them, slipped away without a word toward the main hall. Don turned once more to the cellar window, prepared to enter the dark and forbidding place. But he drew back with a slight start.
The cellar window went up and was secured and a head appeared in the half light. Cadet Vench scrambled up and out of the window, his uniform covered with cobwebs and dirt. He looked briefly at Don and would have walked off, but Don grasped him by the arm.
“Here, Vench,” Don called. “Wait a minute. Let me look at your face. What is the matter?”
He swung the cadet toward him and for a brief instant the other looked at him with wide eyes. Don almost gasped. The ordinarily brown face of Cadet Vench was white, his eyes were big and his hands shook. Don released his hold.
“What did you see in there, Vench?” he asked.
“Nothing,” returned the other, dropping his eyes.
“Yes, you did,” retorted Don. “Out with it. Let’s have it.”
“I didn’t see anything!” snapped Vench, stepping away from him. “You let me go, Mercer. I—I want to get away from this place. You keep your mouth closed about it, too.”
He strode away, and Don was strongly tempted to recall him and make him tell or suffer the consequences. But he was undecided as to what course to follow and he watched the cadet disappear in the direction of Locke Hall. Once more Don looked at the hall so near at hand. There was no sound and he wondered if he should go in or not.
But he did not feel like going in. Vench had seen something in there that had made him turn white. And for another thing, his patrol time was up, a thing for which he was not altogether sorry. So with this new angle to puzzle over Don went back to report his patrol over with and sought his bed, to wonder and speculate until he fell asleep.
“The thing to do,” said Rhodes, “is to make Vench talk.”
It was a few days later, and the cadets were talking things over back of the boathouse. Rhodes, Jim, Terry and Don were sitting on an overturned boat discussing the thing in detail. Don had told them of the events which he had seen, and they were all agreed that Vench had seen something of importance in Clanhammer Hall.
But Vench would not talk. He blustered and he sneered, but he would not open his mouth. He began by saying that he had seen nothing, and ended by saying that he would not tell what he had seen. With that they had to be content, but they were far from being satisfied.
The period of preliminary training was now over and the boys in the fourth class were definitely assigned to divisions. Jim was the luckiest of all, for he was made lieutenant of the cavalry. Don remained in the infantry and Terry went with the artillery unit. Jim was elated with his good fortune and declared that he was going to work hard for a captaincy.
To Jim first fell the office of Officer of the Day. At some time in the year each cadet served in that capacity. His duties were not complicated but consisted of the job of making the rounds of the dormitories just before the lights were put out to see if everything was in order. Immediately after they were out he had to walk down all halls and see to it that no cadet was still up. Then he was to turn in his report and return to his own room.
It was at a quarter after nine when Jim reported to Major Tireson in the office and received his instructions and his report book. He found that he had been assigned to Clinton Hall and after receiving his instructions he went there. It was the practice at the school to put the Officer of the Day in another hall, so that no excuse would be made for personal friends if any infraction of the rules occurred. At the same time that Jim was inspecting Clinton Hall another cadet was inspecting Locke and another Inslee, in each case the Officer of the Day being from another hall.
Jim began his duties at once. Coming to the first room in Clinton Hall he raised his hand and rapped smartly. There was a “Come in” from the other side of the door and Jim entered. As soon as the cadets in the room saw that it was the Officer of the Day they put down their books and rose, saluting as they did so. Jim returned the salute and then looked keenly around the room, noting the condition of the bed, the closet, the place of the cadets’ hats and the general look of the room. Everything was in place and Jim placed an OK beside the number of the room. His duty was to inspect the room and report any irregularities on the part of the cadets themselves, but unless these irregularities were very flagrant the cadet officers never did report them.
“Very well, gentlemen,” nodded Jim, and left the room. The two cadets resumed their studying and Jim went to the next room. In each dormitory room he followed the same procedure. The first floor having been attended to he went to the second and repeated the process.
He had now come to the last room and he knocked. There was no immediate answer and he pushed his way in. To his surprise he found that Cadet Vench was in the room, sitting at the window on the sill, looking out at the ivy-covered wall of an addition which loomed up close to his window. It was then that Jim remembered that Vench, who had formerly roomed in Locke Hall, had been transferred, at his own request, to Clinton. Asked as to why he had obtained a transfer Vench had replied that the bunch in Locke made him sick and he wanted to be nearer friends. It was the boastful little cadet whom Jim was now facing.
Vench turned quickly at his step and his right hand went behind his back. But he was not quick enough to hide what he was holding. Jim saluted him and the cadet returned it. Before speaking Jim inspected the room and then turned once more to Vench.
“Your room is all right, Mr. Vench,” reported the Officer of the Day. “But you yourself must be reported for smoking a cigarette.”
“You’re not going to report that, Mercer,” replied Vench, easily.
“No, I’m not,” agreed Jim. “I am going to allow you to report it yourself, Mr. Vench. In that way you will save yourself a few ‘groan marks.’”
“Groan marks” were demerits, and if enough of them were gathered by a cadet he was expelled. If a cadet accumulated a few of them he lost valuable privileges. But Cadet Vench smiled and shook his head.
“I guess we’ll just forget all about it, eh, Mercer?” he suggested.
But Jim shook his head calmly. “No we won’t, Mr. Vench. Smoking is absolutely against the rules of the institution. You may enjoy it, and perhaps some of the other fellows do too, but they don’t do it, and if you see fit to, you’ll have to stand what comes to you.”
“Don’t preach to me, Mercer!” snapped the little cadet.
“I’m not preaching. If you don’t go and report, I shall be compelled to do it for you. So make up your mind at once, please.”
Vench’s face flushed. “All full of soldier-boy dignity and importance, aren’t you, Mercer? No sense of fair play or honor about you.”
“Why, yes, I think that there is,” retorted Jim, coolly. “I’m giving you a chance to report yourself and lighten your punishment. Seems to me that I couldn’t be any fairer than that.”
“You could forget it altogether,” cried Vench heatedly. “Look here, Mercer, I’ll make it worth your while!”
“In what way?” asked Jim, his eyes narrowing.
“Well, I have a little money that the officers don’t know anything about——”
“That will do!” snapped Jim. “A moment ago you were talking about honor! How much honor do you think is in a proposition like that?”
Vench took a step forward, his face flaming. “Look here you—you cad! Do you mean to say that I’m not honorable? I’ll have you understand that some of the noblest blood in old France runs in my veins!”
“That won’t help you now,” returned Jim. “As far as that goes, I guess my own blood is pretty good, although I’m not aware that any of it came from noblemen, unless they happened to be the only kind of noblemen that count, honest people.”
“See here, you!” hissed the enraged cadet. “You only talk like this because you are the Officer of the Day. I’d be quick to call you out if you weren’t.”
“I won’t be Officer of the Day tomorrow,” said Jim coldly. “If you want to, you may call me out then, though I doubt if you will do anything as rash as that. Come, Mr. Vench, make up your mind what to do.”
“I’ll turn myself in,” fairly shouted the little cadet. “And then I’ll seek satisfaction from you, you high and mighty soldier boy!”
“Anything you please,” shrugged Jim. “Do not forget to report yourself, Mr. Vench, for I am going to make a notation of the circumstance, and if you fail to do it, it will be tough for you.”
With that Jim turned on his heel and walked out of the room. He was angrier than he had allowed Vench to see, for he hated the suggestion of a bribe and the manner of the cadet had been irritating. Just as he got out into the hall the lights were snapped out and he had one more duty to perform. He walked down the halls and saw to it that all doors were closed and all was quiet and then went back to Locke Hall, where he related his experience to Terry and Don.
“You did perfectly right,” agreed Don.
“I doubt if he’ll fight,” said Terry. “He likes to make a big noise, but I don’t think he will say another word about it.”
But Terry was wrong. Cadet Vench reported his break in the rules and received fifty demerits. Two hundred demerits was sufficient to keep a cadet out of all activities and two hundred and fifty was the limit. Vench lost a few privileges and he was boiling with rage. That afternoon Cadet Willis, a roommate of Vench’s, came into the room where Don and Jim were preparing to go out for track.
“May I speak to you a moment, Mr. Mercer?” he asked Don.
“Certainly, Mr. Willis,” nodded Don, and followed him out into the hall. Terry looked at Jim and whistled.
“Ah, ha!” said the red-headed boy. “War is declared!”
When Don came back he grinned at Jim. “Well, you’re in for it, kid,” he said. “Cadet Willis brought to me, your second, a formal declaration of war. If you aren’t scared to death you will kindly meet Mr. Vench in physical combat back of the gym at eight o’clock this evening!”
“Well,” grinned Jim. “I’m scared to death, all right, but I’ll meet him just the same. I’ll be so nervous I won’t be able to run or study all afternoon!”
The news of Vench’s challenge spread like wildfire, and just before eight o’clock a group of the cadets, constantly increasing in number, assembled back of the gym. The spot selected was well fitted for the fight, as it was just back of a large window from which a stream of light came, and well out of sight of the main school building. Jim and his friends reached the place at eight and Jim immediately peeled off his shirt and moved his arms about to limber them up. Vench had not as yet appeared, and when five minutes passed by with no sign of him the cadets began to murmur things decidedly not complimentary to the absent one.
“Here comes Willis,” spoke up a cadet, at last. “But he is alone.”
Willis, with a worried look on his face, approached the group, and ignoring the questions put to him, spoke to Don.
“May I have a word with you, Mercer?” he asked.
He took Don aside and they talked in low tones for a moment, after which Willis hurried off and Don walked slowly back to the group. There was a faint smile on his face, and he handed Jim his shirt.
“Put your shirt on, Jim,” he said. Turning to the cadets he said, “Boys, there has been a mistake made. When Mr. Vench asked Mr. Willis to be his second Mr. Willis presumed it was to be a fist fight. It was not until a few minutes ago that Mr. Willis, to his vast astonishment, found out that Mr. Vench is very blood-thirsty. Mr. Vench claims that my brother insulted his honor and that nothing less than blood would satisfy him. He was coming out here with two dueling swords, obtained from the museum upstairs, and it took Mr. Willis and some friends several minutes to disarm him and take the weapons away. Under the circumstances, there will be no fight, I guess!”
There was a moment of amazed silence and then the cadets broke loose in excited talk. Mr. Vench was treated to a verbal overhauling that left nothing to be desired, and many a scornful laugh was uttered as the cadets went back to their rooms. A dozen plans to annoy and remind the hot-headed cadet were immediately made up.
“Nothing but blood would satisfy him, eh?” laughed Terry when they were back in their rooms. “Well, if he had run up against Jim’s fist he would have been satisfied, all right.”
Jim dismissed the whole thing and thought no more of the little cadet. But from that time on the noisy newcomer was in misery. Everywhere he went he saw some evidence of his rashness and foolishness. Paper swords were hung on his door, gentlemen in grotesque positions were sketched on the blackboards, engaged in dueling, and whenever he was around some pair of cadets were sure to fence with rulers or whatever they had handiest. He was angry and unhappy, but knowing as he did that he had made a sorry spectacle out of himself he kept quiet except when he was alone. He had lost the friendship of even his roommate, who felt his own position ridiculous, and the loud cadet was silenced for the time being.
“It’s all the doings of that Mercer bunch,” he told a friend savagely. “But I’m just waiting for my chance. Wait until it comes, and I’ll make Jim Mercer and his gang suffer for this. Just wait until it comes, that’s all!”
One of the events most eagerly awaited by the cadets each year was the fall military offensive. It was designed to give the cadets, especially the newer ones, some taste of actual military work. Rhodes explained it to the friends.
“The idea is to teach unity of action between the different branches of the service,” the senior said. “First of all, the infantry takes up its position with the artillery under cover just back of it and waits there until the actual shelling begins. The cavalry, dismounted, is stationed somewhere near to support the infantry. After the shelling of a hill—we generally shell an old hill which we call Hill 31—the infantry advances close behind the fire of the artillery, meanwhile getting a message through somehow to the cavalry to dismount and fall in on the wings. I don’t know how the message will be sent this year. Sometimes they send it through by telephones that the engineers put up and sometimes they send a runner through the hill just before the bombardment or after it. When we take up the active campaign we don’t use these uniforms, of course. We get into the regular khaki and go at it right. I guess we’ll get to it soon.”
It was a week later when Major Tireson issued orders that the fall offensive was to take place. The cadets were overjoyed at the prospect, for it meant three days of vacation. It was the custom then to camp out one day, drill on the second, and attack the imaginary enemy on the morning of the third day, returning home in the evening. To Jim, who was an officer of the cavalry, instructions were given.
The captain and lieutenants of the infantry, artillery and cavalry were present at the time instructions were given. There was no captain of the cavalry, for the last captain had graduated, and Major Tireson was undecided as to whether to make Jim or a cadet named Thompson captain. Consequently, both of them were lieutenants and equals. The major explained that the infantry would wait until the shelling was over and then advance on the hill. The artillery officers were instructed in the method and time, and then Major Tireson turned to the cavalry lieutenants.
“You understand, boys, how you are to advance dismounted when the word comes to you?” he asked, and the lieutenants nodded. “Very well,” continued Major Tireson. “Mercer, you are to have charge of the left wing of the cavalry and are to take up a position on the east side of Hill 31. Thompson, you will take your place on the west side of the hill, on the flank of the infantry, and you will send a man over Hill 31 as soon as the firing has been stopped. The artillery fire will be ended all in one burst, there will be no scattering shots, and it will be perfectly safe to send your man over the hill to inform Lieutenant Mercer to join the left wing of the infantry. We are going to act as though our telephone lines were down at the time, and the message is to be delivered by word of mouth. You both understand plainly?”
Both cavalry lieutenants replied that they did understand and after looking over maps they went back to rooms to prepare. Official word was passed around the school and campaign uniforms were issued, together with “tin hats,” trench tools and all the necessary implements. The artillery was brought out, horses prepared, and one brilliant morning late in October the three divisions marched away to the practice warfare.
Hill 31 was twelve miles from Woodcrest and in wild country, where the danger of running across anyone was slight. The infantry marched first, the artillery rumbling back of them, and in the rear, the cavalry unit followed leisurely. The spirits of the cadets were raised by the clear and sparkling air and the bright sunshine, and they marched with a swing. Terry, who was riding a gun carriage, laughed at Don when they all halted for a brief rest.
“Seems like Jim and I have the cream of the outfit,” he grinned. “I ride a gun carriage and Jim rides a fine horse. Little old Donny walks along on his feet.”
“I don’t mind,” retorted Don. “You and Jim will grow old and fat, while I will still be in my prime, due to the fact that I used my feet. When you two are in your wheelchairs, I’ll come around and see you.”
Terry laughed. “That’s how you talk, but wouldn’t you just jump at the chance to ride!”
In the afternoon they reached a long, dusty plain, with Hill 31 before them. Here the cadets made camp. A small city of tents shot up like magic, all hands helping. Four rows of orderly tents stood erected before nightfall, and then there was a drill and review. After that the cadets were free to do as they wished, although no one was permitted to go far afield.
In the evening there were races and wrestling and soon after supper taps sounded. The night was cold and clear, guards patrolled the camp, and the boys were glad to get a good night’s sleep. At six in the morning, they were roused from bed by the blare of the bugle and a busy day began.
There was inspection and roll call, breakfast, drill, and a long march for all divisions. In the afternoon the cavalry drilled on horses, the artillery cadets went through a rigid examination in sighting and range finding, and the ever busy infantry once more drilled. Just before they went to bed that night Major Tireson summoned all officers into his tent and gave final instructions for the shelling and advance on the following morning.
“But I have changed one phase of my plans,” he added, turning to the two cavalry lieutenants. “I have decided, Lieutenant Thompson, that you will not send a man over the hill at any time. We will use the telephone connection, and you are to call Lieutenant Mercer on the phone and tell him when to join the flank of the infantry in the advance. The reason for informing him is so that you will both form the junction with the infantry at precisely the same time. From your position you can see the infantry advance, which Lieutenant Mercer cannot do, and so it will be your duty to send him word to dismount and move up. Is that all clear?”
Both lieutenants agreed that it was and went back to their tents. Taps sounded and the young soldiers literally fell into bed and slept the sleep of exhaustion. In the morning they got up without enthusiasm, but as soon as they had washed in cold water and become wide awake they snapped into action with vigor.
Events moved rapidly after breakfast. The infantry swung into position, and with bayonets fixed as though for a charge, took up a position behind a low ridge in the field. The artillery rumbled into position and the cavalry left the camp.
Just before the cavalry left Jim noted that Lieutenant Thompson was not at the head of the second division. While he was wondering what the trouble was the major came up and looked over the troops. He addressed a second lieutenant named Stillman.
“Lieutenant Stillman,” asked the major, “where is Lieutenant Thompson?”
“He was taken ill, sir,” reported Stillman. “It looks very much as though he will not be able to take the field today.”
The major frowned. “Ill, eh?” He thought for a moment. “Lieutenant Stillman, do you understand the plans for the advance this morning?”
“Why, I believe so, sir,” said the second lieutenant. “Lieutenant Thompson told me all of the plans the day before yesterday.”
“Very well,” nodded the major, turning away. “You are in charge of the west wing, Lieutenant Stillman. Kindly carry out the plans to the best of your ability.”
He turned away, leaving Stillman flushed with pleasure at the unexpected responsibility and the cavalry moved forward, Stillman’s division toward the west side of the hill and Jim’s toward the east side. There was a doubt in Jim’s mind that he could not shake off.
“Oh, well,” he murmured, as they galloped off. “I suppose Stillman is capable enough. I feel a little more confidence in Thompson, though.”
Jim thoroughly enjoyed the gallop across the fields, and when they had gained their position they stopped and waited, facing Hill 31. While they waited a unit of engineers, working in haste, strung a line from nearby trees to the place where Jim’s cavalry outfit was waiting. This telephone line was in some places hidden in the grass and under the dirt and in some places up in the air. It communicated with the infantry base, the artillery headquarters, and went around in a looping circle and connected Jim with Stillman on the other side of the hill. It was over this line that the order to form a junction with the infantry was to be given.
Most of the waiting cavalrymen were looking at their watches, on the alert for the beginning of the artillery bombardment. It was scheduled to begin at exactly ten-thirty, and on the minute it began. The first gun roared out and a cloud of dust rose from Hill 31. The cavalry horses started and moved restlessly.
A regular series of detonations now shook the ground and jets of dust flew about the old hill. After the first furious discharge the firing abruptly ceased, to prepare a brief breathing space for a second discharge. This was a change in Major Tireson’s original policy. He had given the original order to have one bombardment and then to cease firing, but the order had been changed and two distinct shellings had been ordered. After a minute of silence the second period of firing began, and this time it was more scattered and not so furious. The cavalry unit waited quietly.
“In just about five minutes we’ll be on the march,” thought Jim, calming his restless black horse.
At that moment the telephone box at his feet emitted a buzzing sound. Somebody was calling for him, and with a frown Jim swung down from the horse.
“Now how in the world am I going to hear anything with that firing going on?” he grumbled. “And I wonder who can be calling me? I’m not supposed to receive any message now. Whoever it is certainly wants me in a hurry, judging by the way he is buzzing.”
Jim picked up the receiver of the telephone and spoke into it, holding the earpiece pressed close to his head. “Hello,” he shouted above the din of the artillery fire. “Cavalry unit, Lieutenant Mercer speaking.”
Somewhat faintly the answer came to him over the wire. “Mercer, this is Stillman calling. What in the world is happening? Why did they resume their firing?”
“That’s all right, Stillman,” returned Jim, thinking the new officer did not fully understand. “That was the major’s orders, two bombardments, and after that you are to call me and tell me when to join the infantry.”
“But don’t you understand, man?” called Stillman, frantically. “I sent a man over the hill when the fire stopped!”
“What!” roared Jim.
“Certainly. Lieutenant Thompson told me the day before yesterday that a man was to be sent over the hill the minute the firing ceased. I sent Cadet Vench over the hill and he must be right in the thick of it now!”
For a moment Jim’s mind reeled. In a flash the whole tragic situation came to him. Stillman had the old orders, and Thompson had not given him the changed orders, probably because he had not even seen the second Lieutenant. The major had made but a casual inquiry as to whether Stillman knew his orders correctly, and because of the carelessness a cadet had been sent over that hill, perhaps to his death. Jim found his mouth dry and everything seemed to fade from before his eyes. He snapped an order over the telephone line.
“Get word to the artillery to cease firing!” he cried. And with that he jumped to his feet and clutched at the bridle of his horse, turning to his own second lieutenant.
“Townley,” he ordered, “you are in charge until I get back. Foster, ride back to the artillery base and tell them to cease firing at once! Ride like mad, for Cadet Vench is on that hill that they are bombarding!”
Foster launched forward like a shot and thundered out onto the road. With a single leap Jim was in his saddle and had jerked his horse’s head around in the direction of Hill 31. Before anyone could stop him he was off in a mad gallop toward the shell-torn mound.
The shells were still falling raggedly on the top of the hill when his horse began to climb, and he hoped fervently that the bombardment would cease any moment. He could not see why it should not, for Stillman was to call the artillery on the phone at once, and Jim had even taken the precaution to send a cavalryman back in the remote case that the telephone line would not work. He realized, as his horse flew with sure feet up the sloping sides of the heap of earth, that he was risking his life and that of his horse, but he meant to go through with it. The firing would cease any minute, and the cadet might be injured, in which case he would have to be rushed to the emergency sick bay just back of the infantry base. In the flurry of the last few moments he had forgotten that it was Vench who was out there, but now he remembered it perfectly.
Jim felt the sweat break out on his forehead as they approached the territory in which the shells were falling. Hope suggested that Vench might have been on the edge of the hill when the firing began and that he might have rolled down and out of danger. He might even be back with the other wing of cavalry at the time, and under the circumstances it was not probable that Stillman would call a halt on the artillery fire. A new thought raced through Jim’s mind. If Vench had indeed returned uninjured and Stillman had withheld the order to cease firing, he was simply running his own head into grave danger which would do no one any good and which would bring down the major’s wrath upon him. But Jim felt that he had done the right thing and he kept on.
A shell bursting a few yards before him threw dirt up in his face and caused his horse to snort and rear, and Jim realized then that he was actually under fire. It was with an instinctive roll that he threw himself from the animal and looked dazedly around. The hill, now pit-marked from the fire, was otherwise bare, except for one growth of dead trees and bushes toward the middle, and it was there that Jim sighted Vench. The cadet was lying face downward, with one hand held over his head, motionless, and Jim, forgetting his own peril, ran forward, calling his name. The terrified horse rushed madly down the other side of the hill.
Vench did not answer Jim’s call and the cadet lieutenant ran toward him. Just as he reached the inert figure a shell exploded back of him, and a short thick piece of wood flew through the air, striking Jim on the head. He pitched to the ground, over Vench’s outstretched legs.
Although Jim did not know it, that was the last shot. The artillery fire died away abruptly. The telephone message had not gotten through to the artillery, due to bad connections in the stringing of the wires, but Cadet Foster had plunged like lightning into the artillery base camp. He shouted an order to the captain and then explained matters swiftly. With a look of horror the artillery officer signalled frantically from gun to gun and the fire stopped with a final crash.
The infantry, the unit that the major was with, prepared to move up, thinking that the artillery had ceased to fire according to schedule, although the major knew that the firing time was still two minutes short. Foster rode to him, saluted and explained that Cadet Vench had started over the hill and that Lieutenant Mercer had followed. Don started and his heart sank as he heard the report, which was made in the presence and hearing of all the foot soldiers. The major grew red in the face.
“What did Lieutenant Stillman mean by sending a man over the hill?” he roared. “He had strict orders not to do so! By George, I’ll hang him for this!” He turned to his infantry captain, Rhodes. “Captain, accompany me to the hill. Lieutenant, take charge of the men here and send one of them for the ambulance. Come, Captain Rhodes.”
The major and the young captain rode off furiously and an orderly hastened to summon the ambulance, which jogged across the uneven fields a minute later. The artillery unit stood quietly beside their guns, and the infantry and cavalry did the same. Don was very pale but perfectly quiet. Lieutenant Sommers looked briefly at the men left in his charge and then stood at attention, looking straight ahead, satisfied that they would carry themselves as they should.
The major and Rhodes had now arrived at the foot of the hill and they spurred rapidly up the incline. The cadets were all in plain sight, that is, all but the division which Jim had commanded, and the ones who could see were watching with painful interest. At the top of the hill the two officers jumped from their horses and hastened to the two cadets who lay so quietly under the stunted, twisted tree.
“Only stunned, both of them,” said Major Tireson after a hasty examination. “Is the ambulance here?”
“It is, sir,” reported Rhodes, pushing back his trench helmet.
The major imperiously signalled the stretcher-bearers to come up and four men ran to them with stretchers. Both cadets, still unconscious, were loaded on them. They were both placed in the ambulance and run quickly back to the field hospital. Don, watching all this from a distance, felt his throat go dry and his eyes smarted, and although he had a terrible impulse to break ranks and find out how badly his brother had been hurt he controlled the impulse and waited until the major and Rhodes spurred up to them.
“Just stunned, both of them,” said the major, loudly, and Don breathed a prayer of thanksgiving. The major, feeling that something was needed to break the tension, and wishing to teach them that nothing must halt military activities at any time, gave the order to advance, and Don felt a temporary relief in the action which followed.
Although the cadets obeyed every order which was given and everything was carried out according to orders, the spirit with which the young soldiers had begun the day was lacking. The closeness with which they had come to tragedy had shaken them, and their minds were not on the words of command. After a mock storming of the hill they were marched back to the encampment, and no sooner were the ranks broken than Don made a rush for the hospital tent.
Terry was there before him and was sitting at the bedside when Don entered. Jim grinned up at him weakly and thrust out his hand.
“Hi, kid,” he said. “Did I have you worried?”
“You sure did,” returned his brother with fervor. “How do you feel, Jim?”
“Okay now,” nodded Jim. “I was just stunned, that is all. Terry was just a witness to a touching scene.”
“What was that?” asked Don curiously.
“Why,” explained the artillery cadet, grinning, “Mr. Vench swore eternal loyalty to Jim!”
“Did Vench make friends with you?” asked Don eagerly.
“Yes,” answered Jim. “They took him back to school, because he has a gash in his head, but before he went he apologized and told me that he could never be sufficiently grateful to me. I was glad that Terry was here to save me from total embarrassment.”
“Just the same,” said Don. “You did a very brave thing, Jim, and I’m proud of you. You could easily have waited until the bombardment was over and then have gone up.” He looked around and lowered his voice. “I certainly wouldn’t want to be the major, because he is the one to blame. If he is sensible he won’t say a word.”
When the cadets returned to school and routine life was resumed the young soldiers were loud in their praises of Don and Jim. They admired the fortitude with which Don had kept quiet and calm when he had learned of Jim’s plight, and they admired Jim’s plucky action. And most of them were surprised at the changed attitude of Cadet Vench.
Up to that time the little cadet had been intensely disliked and he had few friends. A few of the students who knew him better than the others called to pay their respects to the injured man and they returned to tell strange tales of a completely changed Vench. He had lost his air of superiority and his boastfulness and he led the way in praising his recent enemy. His injuries were not grave, but he had been badly shaken and at the advice of the doctor he remained in his room and did his studying there. The gash in his head healed rapidly.
He told his story several times and the cadets were much interested in it. He had just reached the top of the hill when the second round of artillery fire had started and he was scared and bewildered. He had started to run for the shelter of the trees, hoping that the fire would cease long enough to give him a chance to roll backward down the hill. But as he lay there a stone had hit him and that was the last he had known until he found himself in the field hospital.
The cadets discussed the carelessness of the major in low tones, and the general opinion was that he would say nothing concerning it all. But in this they were mistaken. On the evening following their return to Woodcrest a large group was standing on the campus in the light of Locke Hall when Second Lieutenant Stillman came out of the door and started toward Inslee Hall, where he roomed. Rhodes noted a look of dejection and anger on the face of the cadet officer and hailed him.
“Hi there, Stillman,” he said. “What’s the matter with your face?”
“You mean the expression of it?” asked Stillman ruefully.
“Why, yes,” laughed Rhodes. “Now that I take notice of it, the face itself is all right. But the look that is on it at present doesn’t draw any favorable comment.”
“I’ve had a mean time in there,” said Stillman, jerking his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the main hall. “Major Tireson called me down for that affair at the hill.”
“For sending Vench over?” asked Dallenger, a third class man.
“Yes,” nodded Stillman.
“But you didn’t take it, did you?” inquired Don.
“Why, yes, I suppose I did. I more or less had to.”
“You did not,” said Cadet Chipps. “The major asked you if you had received the orders and you said that you had received them two days previous. Instead of checking up on you to see if you had the correct ones he let you go on. It distinctly was not your fault.”
“Well, he said it was, and he talked pretty hotly, too, I assure you. Naturally, I couldn’t talk back to the major.”
“You certainly could have,” retorted Don. “You didn’t have to be snappy about it, but as long as you were in the right you should have stood firm.”
“Maybe,” shrugged Stillman, moving away. “But that’s easier said than done.”
Talk concerning the major became more pointed and it is probable that some of it reached his ears. At any rate, on that very night, as Don, Jim and Terry were studying in their room there came a knock on the door and Jim bade the knocker enter. The door opened to admit the major and all three boys rose quickly and saluted. The major returned the salute shortly and faced Jim.
“Mr. Mercer,” he said. “I want to take this opportunity to speak to you. Do you feel well enough to talk?”
“Yes, sir,” answered Jim wonderingly.
“I just want to tell you that I did not approve of your rash act at Hill 31,” said the major, excitement growing on him. “I understand that some of the cadets think you quite a hero and that in consequence you may become heir to a swelled head. I personally do not think that you did anything commendable, and you greatly endangered me by your foolishness. If anything had happened to you I would have been blamed. In the future you will be kind enough to mind your own business and stick to orders. You will perhaps recall that you had no orders to make any melodramatic dash up the hill in the face of the artillery fire. Do you understand?”
“I do,” said Jim, his eyes flashing. “But I do not need orders to make me try to help someone out of difficulty, sir!”
“That will do,” snapped the major. “You will find out that this is a military school and not a place where you can do as you like. I will place twenty-five demerits beside your name for what you did that day.”
“Very well, sir,” said Jim, calmly.
“Wait a minute, Major Tireson,” said Don, with equal quietness, but with a determined look in the set of his jaw. “You will do nothing of the kind!”
The major’s eyes bulged. “Silence, sir! How dare you speak to me when I am not even addressing you?”
“I repeat what I said,” returned Don, coolly. “You will place no demerit marks against Jim’s name. We both expect to graduate from here with clean records and we will permit no marks to be placed against us unless we knowingly break the rules. Jim didn’t do that and so you will not do what you said you will do!”
“Mercer,” snarled the major. “I will order you under arrest!”
“You may do what you like,” retorted Don. “But it will do you no good. Every cadet in this school knows that what happened is your fault, Major Tireson, and not anyone else’s. Every cadet is blaming Lieutenant Stillman for having taken demerit marks from you. You yourself know that you made no effort to check up and find out if the second lieutenant knew his orders, and under those circumstances Jim will not take any punishment from you or from anyone else!”
For one moment the temporary headmaster glared at him and then his tone became cold. “Report yourself under arrest, Mr. Mercer,” he commanded.
“Certainly, sir,” agreed Don with composure. “Until tomorrow evening, and if you have not released me by then I shall leave the school for good!”
“Remain in your room under arrest, Mr. Mercer,” repeated the major, and turning on his heel he went out, banging the door after him.
“Well, what do you know about that!” gasped Terry, sinking down on the bed.
“I know that I’ll follow Don out if he tries to keep him under arrest,” answered Jim, briefly.