TWO PLEBES IN HOSPITAL.
"Say, tell me, did you do him?"
The speaker was a lad with brown, curly hair and a laughing, merry face,
at present, however, half covered with a swathing of bandages. He was
standing on the steps of the hospital building at West Point, and
regarding with anxiety another lad of about the same age, but taller and
more sturdily built.
"I don't know that I did him," responded Mark--for the one addressed was
he--"I don't know that I can say I did him, but I believe I would have
if the fight hadn't been interrupted."
"Bully, b'gee!" cried the other, excitedly slapping his knee and wincing
with pain afterward. "Gimme your hand! I'm proud of you, b'gee! My
name's Alan Dewey, at your service."
Mark took the proffered hand, smiling at the stranger's joy.
"My success seems to cause you considerable pleasure," he said.
"Yes, b'gee!" exclaimed Dewey, "it does! And to every true and loyal
plebe in the academy. You've brought honor to the name of plebe by
licking the biggest yearling in the place, b'gee, and that means the end
of hazing."
"I'm not so sure of that," said Mark.
"I am," returned the other. "But say, tell me something about the fight.
I wanted to come, only I was shut up in hospital. Did Williams put up a
good one?"
"Splendid," said Mark.
"He ought to. They say he's champion of his class, and an all-round
athlete. But you look as if you could fight some yourself."
"He almost had me beaten once," said Mark. "I thought I was a goner."
"Say, but you're a spunky chap!" remarked Dewey, eying Mark with an
admiring expression. "I don't think there's ever been a plebe dared to
do half what you've done. The whole class is talking about you."
"Is that so?" inquired Mark, laughing. "I didn't mean to do anything
reckless."
"What's the difference," laughed the other, "when you can lick 'em all,
b'gee? I wish I could do it," he added, rather more solemnly. "Then,
perhaps, maybe I wouldn't be the physical wreck that I am."
"You been fighting, too?" inquired Mark, laughing.
"Betcher life, b'gee!" responded the other, emphatically. "Only I wasn't
as clever at it as you."
"Tell me about it," said Mark, with interest.
"It happened last Saturday afternoon, and I've been in hospital ever
since, b'gee. Some of the cadets caught me taking a walk up somewhere
near what they call 'Crow's Nest.' And so they set out to have some fun.
Told me to climb a tree, in the first place. I looked at the tree, and,
b'gee, there wasn't a limb for thirty feet, and the limbs there were
rotten. There was one of 'em, a big, burly fellow with short hair and a
scar on his cheek----"
"Bull Harris!" cried Mark.
"Yes," said Dewey, "that's what they called him--'Bull.'"
"Did you fight with him?"
"Betcher life, b'gee! He tried to make me climb that tree, and, b'gee,
says I, 'I won't, b'gee!' Then I lammed him one in the eye----"
"Bully!" cried Mark, and then he added, "b'gee!" by way of company. "Did
he beat you?"
"Betcher life," cried the other. "That is, the six of 'em did."
"You don't mean to say the crowd attacked you?"
"That's what I said."
"Well, sir!" exclaimed Mark, "the more I hear of that Bull Harris the
bigger coward I find him. It's comforting to know that all the cadets
aren't that way."
"Very comforting!" responded the other, feeling of the bandage on his
swollen jaw. "Very comforting! Reminds me of a story I heard once,
b'gee, of a man who got a thousand dollars' comfort from a railroad for
having his head cut off."
Mark laughed for a moment, and then he fell to tapping the step
thoughtfully with his heel. He was thinking over a plan.
"I don't suppose you've much love for the yearlings," he remarked, at
last.
"Bet cher life not," laughed the other. "I've about as much as a
mother-in-law for a professional joke writer, b'gee! Reminds me of a
story I once heard--but go on; I want to hear what you had to say. Tell
my story later."
"Well, three friends of mine have formed a sort of an informal alliance
for self-defence----"
"Bully, b'gee!" cried Dewey, excitedly.
"And I thought maybe you'd like to----"
"Join? Bet cher life, b'gee! Why didn't you say so before? Whoop!"
And thus it happened that Member Number Five of the West Point
"alliance" was discovered.
"I don't think this famous alliance is going to have much to do at the
start," said Mark, as soon as Master Dewey had recovered from his
excitement, "for I rather fancy the yearlings will leave us alone for a
time."
"Bet cher life, b'gee!" assented the other. "If they don't look out they
won't have time to be sorry."
"B'gee!" added Mark, smiling.
"Do I say that much?" inquired the other, with a laugh. "I suppose I
must, because the fellows have nicknamed me 'B'gee.' I declare I'm not
conscious of saying it. Do I?"
"Bet cher life, b'gee," responded Mark, whereupon his new acquaintance
broke into one of his merry laughs.
"Let's go around to barracks," said Mark, finally--it was then just
after breakfast time. "I expect they'll want me to report for drill. I
thought I'd get off for the morning on the strength of my 'contusions,'
as they call them. But the old surgeon was too sly for me. He patched me
up in a jiffy."
"What was the matter with you?" inquired Dewey, dropping his smile.
"One eye's about half shut, as you see," responded Mark, "and then I had
quite a little cut on the side of my head where Williams hit me once.
Otherwise I am all right--only just a little rocky."
"As the sea captain remarked of the harbor, b'gee," added the other.
"But tell me, how's Williams?"
"Pretty well done up, as the laundryman remarked, to borrow your style
of illustration," Mark responded, laughing. "They had to carry poor
Williams down here. He's in there now being fixed up. And say, you
should have seen how queerly the surgeon looked at us two. He knew right
away what was up, of course, but he never said a word--just entered us
'sick--contusions.' Is that what you were?"
"Bet cher life, b'gee!" responded the other. "But he tried to get me to
tell what was up. He rather suspected hazing, I think. I didn't say
anything, though."
"It would have served some of those chaps just right if you had," vowed
Mark. "You know you could have every one of them expelled."
The two had reached the area of barracks by this time, and hurried over
to reach their rooms before inspection.
"And don't you mention what I've told you about this great alliance to a
soul," Mark enjoined. "We'd have the whole academy about our ears in a
day."
Dewey assented.
"What's the name of it?" he inquired.
"Haven't got any name for it yet," said Mark, "or any leader either, in
fact. We're waiting to get a few more members, enough for a little
excitement. Then we'll organize, elect a leader, swear allegiance, and
you can bet there'll be fun--b'gee!"
"Come up to my room," he added, after a moment's pause, "as soon as you
get fixed up for inspection, and I'll introduce you to the other
fellows."
With which parting word he turned and bounded up the stairs to his own
room.