MARK'S MYSTERIOUS VISITOR.
These were days of work for the plebes at West Point--days of drilling
and practicing from sunrise to night, until mind and body were
exhausted. And it usually happened that most of the unfortunates were
already sound asleep by the time "tattoo" was sounded, that is, unless
the unfortunates had been still more unfortunate, unfortunate enough to
fall into the clutches of the merciless yearling. When "taps" came half
an hour later, meaning lights out and all quiet, there was usually scant
need for the round of the watchful "tac," as the tactical officer is
designated.
It happened so on this night. The "tac" found all quiet except for the
snoring. And, this duty over, the officer made his way to his own home;
and after that there was nothing awake except the lonely sentry who
marched tirelessly up and down the halls.
The night wore on, the moon rose and shone down in the silent area,
making the shadows of the gray stone building stand out dark and black.
And the clock on the guardhouse indicated the hour of eleven.
It was not very many minutes more before there was a dark, shadowy form,
stealing in by the eastern sally-port, and hugging closely the black
shadows of the wall. He paused, whoever it was, when he reached the
area, and waited, listening. The sentry's tramp grew clear and then died
out again, which meant that the sentry was back in the hallway of the
barracks, and then the shadowy form stepped out into the moonlight and
ran swiftly and silently across the area and sprang up the steps to the
porch of the building; and there he stood and waited again until once
more the sentry was far away--then stepped into the doorway and crept
softly up the stairs. The strange midnight visitor was evidently some
one who knew the place.
He knew just the room he was going to, also, for he wasted not a
moment's time, but stole swiftly down the hall, and stopped before one
of the doors. It was the room of Cadets Mallory and Powers.
Doors at West Point are never locked; there are no keys. The strange
visitor crouched and listened cautiously. A sound of deep and regular
breathing came from within, and, hearing it, he softly opened the door,
entered and then just as carefully shut it behind him. Having attended
to this, he crept to one of the beds. He seemed to know which one he
wanted without even looking; it was Mark Mallory's. And then the
stranger leaned over and gently touched the occupant.
The occupant was sleeping soundly, for he was tired; the touch had no
effect upon him. The visitor tried again, and harder, this time with
success. Mark Mallory sat up in alarm.
"Ssh! Don't make a sound," whispered the other. "I've got a message for
you. Ssh!"
It is enough to alarm any one to be awakened out of a sound sleep in
such a manner, and at such a time, and Mark's heart was thumping
furiously.
"Who are you?" he whispered.
The figure made no answer, but crept to the window, instead, where the
moonlight was streaming in. And Mark recognized him instantly as one of
the small drum orderlies he had seen about the post. Half his alarm
subsided then, and he arose and joined the boy at the window.
"Here," said the boy. "Read it."
And so saying, he shoved a note into the other's hand. Mark took it
hurriedly, tore it open and read it.
It took him but a moment to do so, and when he finished his face was a
picture of amazement and incredulity.
"Who gave you this?" he demanded, angrily.
"Ssh!" whispered the boy, glancing fearfully at the bed where Texas lay.
"Ssh! You may wake him. She did."
"Now, look here!" said Mark, in a recklessly loud voice, for he was
angry, believing that the boy was lying. "Now, look here! I've been
fooled with one letter this way, and I don't mean to be fooled again. If
this is a trap of those cadets, as sure as I'm alive, I'll report the
matter to the superintendent and have you court-martialed. Remember! And
now I give you a chance to take it back. If you tell me the truth I'll
let you go unhurt. Now, once more, who gave you this?"
And Mark looked the trembling boy in the eye; but the boy still clung to
his story.
"She did, indeed she did," he protested.
"Where?" asked Mark.
"Down at her house."
"Why were you there?"
"I live there."
Mark stared at the boy for a moment more, and bit his lip in
uncertainty. Then he turned away and fell to pacing up and down the
room, muttering to himself.
"Yes," he said, "yes, I believe she wrote it. But what on earth can it
mean? What on earth can be the matter?"
Then he turned to the boy.
"Do you know what she wants?" he inquired.
"No, sir," whispered the other. "Only she told me to show you the way to
her house."
"Is anything the matter?"
"I don't know; but she looked very pale."
And Mark turned away once more and fell to pacing back and forth.
"Shall I go?" he mused. "Shall I go? It's beyond cadet limits. If I'm
caught it means court-martial and expulsion. There's the 'blue book' on
the mantel staring at me for a warning. By jingo! I don't think I'll
risk it!"
He turned to the boy about to refuse the request; and then suddenly came
another thought--she knew the danger as well as he! She knew what it
meant to go beyond limits, and yet she had sent for him at this strange
hour of the night, and for him, too, a comparative stranger. Surely, it
must be a desperate matter, a matter in which to fail was sheer
cowardice. At the same time with the thought there rose up before him a
vision of a certain very sweet and winsome face; and when he spoke to
the boy his answer was:
"I'll go."
He stepped to the desk, and wrote hastily on a piece of paper this note
to Texas:
"I'll be back in time to fight. Explain later. Trust
me.
"MARK."
This he laid on the bureau, and then silently but quickly put on his
clothes and stepped to the door with the boy. Mark halted for a moment
and glanced about the room to make sure that all was well and that Texas
was asleep, and then he softly shut the door and turned to the boy.
"How are we going to get out?" he demanded.
"Come," responded the other, setting the example by creeping along on
tiptoe. "Come."
They halted again at the top of the stairway to wait until the sentry
had gone down, and then stole down and dodged outside the door just as
the latter turned and marched back. Flattened against the wall, they
waited breathlessly, while he approached nearer and nearer, and then he
halted, wheeled and went on. At the same moment the two crept quickly
across the area and vanished in the darkness of the sally port.
"Now," said the drum boy, as they came out on the other side, "here we
are. Come on."
Mark turned and followed him swiftly down the road toward Highland
Falls, and quiet once more reigned about the post.
There was one thing more that needs to be mentioned. It was a very
simple incident, but it was destined to lead to a great deal. It was
merely that a gust of wind blew in at the window of the room where Texas
slept, and, seizing the sheet of paper upon which Mark had written,
lifted it gently up and dropped it softly and silently behind the
bureau, whither Mark had thrown the other note.
And that was all.