CHAPTER XI.

DISADVANTAGES OF "COVENTRY."

"Sir, the parade is formed!"

Thus spoke the cadet adjutant as he approached the lieutenant in

command, and a moment later, at the word, the battalion swung around and

marched across the campus. It was the evening dress parade of perhaps

the best drilled body of troops in the country, and West Point was out

in holiday attire to see it.

Seated on the benches beneath the trees on the western edge of the

parade ground was a crowd of spectators--visitors at the post and nearly

the whole plebe class besides. For this was Saturday afternoon holiday,

and the "beasts" had turned out in a body to witness the performance of

what they were all hoping some day to be.

It was a "mighty fine" performance, and one that made those same beasts

open their eyes with amazement. Spotless and glittering in their

uniforms were the cadets, and they went through all manner of difficult

evolutions in perfect unison, marching with lines as straight and even

as the eye could wish. It is a pretty sight, a mass of gray in a setting

of deep green--the trees that encircle the spot, and it made the poor

homesick "beasts" take a little interest in life once more.

Among these "beasts" were Mark and Texas. They sat under the trees a

little apart from the crowd and watched the scene with interest. Mark

had seen dress parades before; Texas had not, and he stared with open

eyes and mouth, giving vent to an exclamation of amazement and delight

at intervals.

"Look a' yere, Mark," he cried, "d'you think we'll ever be able do that

a' way. Honest, now? I think I'll stay!"

"Even after you get through fightin?" laughed Mark.

"I don't think I want to fight any more," growled Texas, looking glum.

"Since you an' me fit, somehow fightin' ain't so much fun."

"What's the fun o' fightin' ef you git licked?" he added, after a

moment's thought.

"I never tried it," said the other, laughing. "But I suppose you'll be

real meek now and let them haze you."

"Yaas!" drawled Texas, grinning. "Yes, I will! Them ole cadets git after

me, now, by jingo, I'll go out there an' yank some of 'em out that

parade an' lick them all t'once. But say! look at that chap on a horse."

"That chap's the commandant," said Mark, "and he's going to review the

parade for a change."

"I wish I was in it," exclaimed Texas, "an' I wish I knew all that

rigamarole they're doin' now"--that "rigamarole" being the

manual-at-arms. "I jest believe if I had somebody to teach me 'cept that

'ere yellin' tomcat of a Cadet Spencer I'd learn in a jiffy, dog on his

boots!"

"There he is now," said Mark, "in the second line there. And there on

the outside with his chevrons is Corporal Jasper, 'the committee.' They

look very different when they're in line."

"Nothin' 'd make that red-headed, freckle-faced coyote of a drill-master

look different," growled Texas. "I jes' wish he was bigger'n me so's I

could git up a scrap with him. Jest think o' that little martinet a

yellin' at me an' tellin' me I didn't have any sense. To-day, for

instance, d'you remember, he was tryin' to show Indian how to march an'

move his legs, an' Indian got twisted up into a knot; an' durnation,

jist because I laughed, why he rared round an' bucked fo' an hour!

What's the harm in laughing, anyhow?"

And Texas glared so savagely at his tormentor as the line swept by just

then that Mark concluded there was no harm and laughed.

"You're getting to be very stupid company, Texas," said he. "You never

do anything but growl at the cadets. I wish I had some diversion."

And Mark turned away in mock disgust and glanced down the archway of

trees.

"Here she comes," he said, after a moment's pause. "That's she walking

up the path with a cadet and another girl."

Texas turned as Mark spoke, and looked in the direction of his nod.

"So that's Mary Adams!" he exclaimed. "Well! well! That's the girl you

dodged barracks for, and risked your commission, and missed the fight,

and got called a coward, and sent to Coventry, and lots else. I swear!"

"That's the one," said Mark, smiling.

"She's stunning pretty," added Texas, as the trio drew near. "Gee-whiz!

I don't blame you."

"I liked her right well myself," admitted the other. "That is after I

saw her with that brother of hers. She certainly is a good sister to

him. But the cadets say she's something of a flirt, and Wicks Merritt

advised me to leave her alone, so I guess I shall."

"Sunday school teacher!" said Texas, laughing. "We'll have to call you

Parson, instead of Stanard. But I guess you're right. That's not a very

beautiful looking cadet she's with."

The three were passing then, and Mark arose.

"I guess I'll have to go speak to her," said he. "She's beckoning to me.

Wait a moment."

Texas watched his friend approach the group; he could not hear what was

said, however, and so he turned away to watch the parade. By doing it he

missed an interesting scene.

Mary Adams welcomed Mark with a look of gratitude and admiration that

Mark could not fail to notice. She had not forgotten the magnitude of

the service he had done for her. And then she turned to her two

companions.

"Miss Webb," she said, "let me present Mr. Mallory."

The other girl bowed, and Mary Adams turned to the cadet.

"Mr. Murray, Mr. Mallory," said she.

And then came the thunderclap. Mark put out his hand; the cadet quietly

put his behind his back.

"The cadets of this academy, Miss Adams," said he, "do not speak to Mr.

Mallory. Mr. Mallory is a coward!"

It was a trying moment; Mark felt the blood surge to his head, his

fingers twitched and his lip quivered. He longed to spring at the

fellow's throat and fling him to the ground.

It was a natural impulse. Texas would have done it. But Mark controlled

himself by the effort of his life. He clinched his hands behind him and

bit his tongue, and when he spoke he was calm and emotionless.

"Miss Adams," he said, "Mr. Murray and I will settle that later."

The two girls stared in amazement, "Mr. Murray" gazed into space, and

Mark turned without another word and strode over to where his friend was

sitting.

"Texas!" he muttered, gripping him by the shoulder. "Texas, there's

going to be a fight."

"Hey!" cried Texas, springing to his feet. "What's that? Whoop!"

A Cadet's Honor: Mark Mallory's Heroism · 第 11 / 32 章