CHAPTER VIII.

THE RESCUE PARTY.

Mark and Texas were seated on the steps of barracks when the Parson came

through the sally port. The two were listening to the music of the band

at the Saturday afternoon hop in the Academy Building, and also watching

several cadets paying penalties by marching sedately back and forth in

the area.

Stanard strolled in slowly with no signs of excitement. He came up and

sat down beside the two in his usual methodical way.

"Good-afternoon, gentlemen," said he. "Good-afternoon. I have something

to deliberate upon with you if it is perfectly agreeable."

It was agreeable, and so the Parson told his story, embellishing it with

many flourishes, classical allusions and geological metaphors. And when

he finished Texas sprang up in excitement.

"Wow!" he cried. "Let's go up thar an' clean out the hull crowd."

"It is best to deliberate, to think over our plan of attack," returned

the Parson, calmly, and with a mild rebuke in his tone, which reminded

Texas of his promise never to get excited again, made him sit down

sheepishly.

"I think," put in Mark, "that we ought to think up some scheme to scare

'em off, or get away with Indian, or something. It's a harmless joke,

you know, so what's the use of fighting over it?"

"Oh," growled Texas, in disgust.

"If we could only manage to turn the tables on them," continued Mark.

"Shut up a while, and let's think a few minutes."

And then there was silence, deep and impressive, while everybody got his

"ratiocinating apparatus," as the Parson called it, to work. Mark was

the first to break it.

"Look here, Parson," said he, "what's the name of all those chemicals of

yours that you hid up the chimney for fear the cadet officers 'd make

you give 'em up?"

The Parson rattled off a list of unpronounceable names, at the mention

of one of which Mark sprang up.

"Get it! Get it! you long-legged Boston professor, you!" he shouted.

"Never mind why! But I've got something in my pocket that'll--gee whiz!

Hurry up!"

The Parson did as he was commanded, and in about as much of a hurry as

was possible for him. And Mark tucked the bottle under his coat and the

three set off in haste to the rescue, Texas grumbling meanwhile and

wanting to know why in thunderation a square stand-up fight wasn't just

as good as anything.

An Indian war party could not have made a more stealthy entrance than

did the three. They climbed in one of the windows on the lower floor,

the basement, and then listened for any sound that might tell them what

was going on above. They heard voices conversing in low tones, but no

signs of hazing; the reason of that fact being that Indian was just then

locked in another room hard at work on his "mental examination," the

same one that had been given to Stanard. And poor Indian was striving

his best to think of the name of any undiscovered island which he had

ever heard of.

Mark took the big bottle from under his coat, set it on the floor and

took out the cork. From his pocket he took a paper containing a thick

black powder. This he poured carefully into the bottle, put in the cork,

and then turned and made a dash for the window. Outside, the three made

for the woods nearby and hid to watch.

"Just wait till enough of that dissolves," said Mark. "Just wait."

Meanwhile, upstairs, the hilarious cadets were chuckling merrily over

the predicament of their two victims. The lord high, etc., and

superintendent had carefully timed the hour that the Parson was to have

for his answers; the hour was up, and the official had arisen, turned

the key, and was in the very act of opening the door when suddenly--

Bang! a loud report that shook the doors and windows of the building and

made the cadets spring up in alarm. They gazed in one another's

frightened faces, scarcely knowing what to think. And then up the

stairway slowly rolled a dense volume of heavy smoke, that seemed to

fill the building in an instant.

"Fire! Fire!" yelled the whole crowd at once, and, forgetting both their

victims in the mad excitement, they made a wild dash down the stairs for

the door.

"Fire! Fire!" rang out their cries, and a moment later a big bell down

at barracks sounded the alarm--"Fire! Fire!"

And over in the woods three conspirators sat and punched one another for

joy.

A Cadet's Honor: Mark Mallory's Heroism · 第 8 / 32 章