THE BOMBSHELL FALLS.
Nothing happened that evening; Mark and his friends passed their time in
serene unconsciousness of any danger, merrily discussing the latest
hazing effort of the enemy. Bull Harris and his crowd did not put in
appearance, or try to put their plot into execution, for the simple
reason that there was no chance. The first "whack," so to speak, was
scheduled for the A. M. inspection the next day. The only inspection at
night is made by a "tac"--a practical officer--who goes the rounds with
a dark lantern after taps to make sure that no plebes have been run away
with.
Reveille and roll call the next morning passed without incident, except
that Cadet Mallory was reported "late" at the latter function; the
charge being true, no suspicions were awakened. After that came the
march to mess hall, the plebe company, which was by this time able to
march presentably though rather stiffly, falling in behind the rest of
the corps. During that march "File Closer" Vance had occasion to rebuke
Cadet Mallory for loud talking in ranks. It hadn't been loud, at least
not very loud, but Mark swallowed it and said nothing.
Breakfast passed without incident, and the plebes were marched back to
barracks, there breaking ranks, and scattering to quarters to "spruce
up" for inspection. Mark and Texas, who shared the same room, lost no
time in getting to work at the sweeping and dusting and arranging.
It seems scarcely necessary to say that there are no chambermaids at
West Point. Cadets do their own room cleaning, "policing," as it is
called, and they do it well, too. A simpler, barer place than a room in
barracks it would be hard to imagine. Bare white walls--no pictures
allowed--and no wall paper--a black fireplace, a plain table, an iron
bedstead, a washstand, two chairs, and a window is about the entire
inventory. And every article in that room must be found placed with
mathematical precision in just such a spot and no other. There is a
"bluebook"--learned by heart--to tell where; and there are penalties for
every infringement. Demerits are the easiest things in the world to
get; enough might be given at one inspection to expel.
The signal, dreaded like poison by all plebes, that the time for
inspection has come, is a heavy step in the hall and a single tap upon
the door. It came that morning while the two victims-to-be were still
hard at work. In accordance with orders each sprang up, stood at
attention--heels together, head up, eyes to the front, chest out,
etc.--and silently awaited developments.
Mark gasped for breath when he saw who it was that entered; Cadet
Corporal Jasper had been transferred and the man who was to do the work
this time was none other than Murray, next to Bull Harris, Mark's
greatest enemy on earth.
Cadet Murray looked handsome in his spotless uniform of gray and white,
with his chevrons of gold; he strode in with a stern and haughty look
which speedily changed to one of displeasure as he gazed about him at
the room. He took a rapid mental count of the possible charges he could
make; and then glanced up at the name which is posted on the wall,
telling who is "room orderly" for the week--and so responsible for the
faults. It was Mallory, and the yearling could scarcely hide a smile of
satisfaction.
"You plebes have had nearly two weeks now," he began, frowning with
well-feigned displeasure, "in which to learn to arrange your rooms. The
disorder which I see shows not only carelessness but actual
insubordination. And I propose to make an example of you two for once
and for all."
The two victims were expected to say nothing; and they said it. But Mark
did a pile of thinking and his heart sank as he realized what his enemy
might do if he chose. It is possible to find a thousand faults in the
most perfect work if one only hunts long enough and is willing to split
hairs.
Cadet Corporal Murray took out a notebook and pencil with obvious
meaning.
"In the first place," said he, "where should that broom be? Behind the
door, should it not? Why is it not? I find that your bedding is piled
carelessly, very carelessly. The blanket is not evenly folded; moreover,
the bluebook states particularly that the blanket is to be placed at the
bottom of the pile. You may see that it is not so. Why, Mr. Mallory, I
do not think it has ever happened to me to find a room so utterly
disorderly, or a cadet so negligent! Look at that bluebook; it belongs
upon the mantelpiece, and I see it on the bed----"
"I was reading it," put in Mark, choking down his anger by a violent
effort.
And as he spoke the corporal's face grew sterner yet.
"In the first place, sir," said he, "you have no business to be reading
while awaiting inspection, and you know it--though I must say a more
frequent study of that book would save you much trouble. In the second
place, you are not expected to answer under such circumstances; the
proper thing for you to do is to hand in the explanation to the
authorities, and you know that, too. I am sent here to notice and report
delinquencies and not to argue about them with you. I regret now that I
shall be obliged to mention the fact that you remonstrated with an
officer during inspection, a most serious charge indeed."
And Cadet Corporal Murray made another note in his book, chuckling
inwardly as he did it.
"What next?" thought the two plebes.
There was lots more. The yearling next stepped over to the mantelpiece
and ran his finger, with its spotless white glove, along the inner
edge. Texas had rubbed that mantel fiercely; yet, to get it so clean as
not to soil the glove was almost impossible, and so the corporal first
held up the finger to show the mark of dirt and then--wrote down "dust
on mantel."
There is no need to tell the rest in detail, but simply to say that
while Mark and his roommate gazed on in blank despair, their jubilant
enemy made out a list of at least a dozen charges, which he knew would
aggregate to at least half of the demerit maximum, and for every one of
which there was some slight basis of justification. The yearling was
shrewd enough to suspect this fact would prevent their being excused,
for he did not think that Mark would sign his name to a lie in his
explanation.
The disastrous visit was closed with a note--"floor unswept"--because
three scraps of paper were observed peering out from under the table;
and then without another word the cadet turned on his heel and marched
out of the room. And Mark and Texas stood and stared at each other in
utter and abject consternation.
It was a minute at least before either of them spoke; they were both
too dumfounded. The bombshell had struck, and had brought ruin in its
path. Mark knew now what was the power of his enemies; knew that he was
gone. For with such a weapon as the one the cowardly Murray had struck
his dismissal was the matter of a week or less. Already he was more than
halfway to expulsion; already the prize for which he had fought so long
and so hard was slipping from his grasp. And all on account of a
cowardly crowd he had made his enemies because he had been strong and
manly enough to do what he knew was right.
It was a cruel fact and Mark felt pretty bitter toward West Point just
then. As for Texas, his faithful friend and roommate, Texas said not one
word; but he went to the chimney, up which he had hidden his sixteen
revolvers for safety, calmly selected two of the biggest, and having
examined the cartridges, tucked them safely away in his rear pockets.
Then he sat down on the bed and gave vent to a subdued "Durnation!"
About this same time Cadet Corporal Murray, having handed in his reports
at headquarters, was racing joyfully back to camp, there to join his
friend, Bull Harris, with a shout of victory.
"Rejoice! Rejoice!" he cried, slapping his chum on the back. "We've got
him! I soaked him for fifty at least!"