ROLL-CALL GIVES THE ALARM
For an instant Haynes leaned far out.
Now his eyes were filed with a terror that overcame the wild fascination
of his wicked deed.
His anger had died down in a flash. Turnback Haynes would have
given worlds to be able to recall the felonious deed he had just
committed. But it was too late. He had seen Prescott's flying
figure sink beneath the waters, which came up to within a few
feet of the railroad trestle.
Haynes turned back with a sobbing groan. Then he cast a terrified
look into the car.
Some of the fellows must have seen both of us come out here, he
quavered. They'll see only one of us come back. I'll have to
stand the whole fire of questions. Ugh! C-c-can I stand it without
breaking down and giving myself away?
The train was over and off of the bridge by now. Warned by a
light burning between the rails, the engineer brought the train
to a standstill.
His heart bounding with a cowards hope, turnback Haynes leaped
down to the roadbed. Breathlessly he rushed along the side of
the train. He succeeded in gaining the platform of the third
car ahead.
Though his knees shook under him, the turnback swung up on to
the steps. In another moment, after noting that the cadets were
not looking particularly towards the door, Haynes turned the knob,
stepping inside and dropping, with feigned carelessness, into
an empty seat.
"Hullo, Haynesy," was Lewis's easy greeting. Been up ahead?
"Yes," lied the turnback.
Anstey heard, though he did not pay much heed to the statement
at the time.
There were many, of course, who asked for Dick. Greg had not
seen his chum for some time. In his own heart Holmes felt sure
that Dick, tired of being congratulated, had sought retirement---in
the baggage car, probably. So Greg had little to say, and did
not go in search of his chum.
It was not, in fact, until the corps reached West Point, and roll-call
by companies was held, that the absence of Cadet Richard Prescott,
second class, was discovered.
Then there was a good deal of curiosity among a few comrades, wild
excitement and useless speculation.
An hour later, however, Greg's fevered imaginings were cut short
by word that was brought over to him from the cadet guard house.
Prescott had reported by wire. He had fallen from the rear
car of the train into a river. The telegram merely stated that
he had made his way to the nearest village, where a clergyman
had provided him with the funds needed for his return to West
Point. He would report at the earliest hour possible.
From room to room in cadet barracks flew the news.
"Now, how could a fellow be so careless as to fall off a moving
train?" demanded Lewis.
"Old ramrod may have been shaken up a heap in the game," hinted
Anstey. "Prescott isn't the sort of chap to tell us every time
he feels a trifle dizzy or experiences a nervous twitch. He may
have felt badly, may have gone out on the platform for a whiff
of fresh air, and then may have felt so much worse that he fell."
"Depend upon one thing," put in Brayton decisively. "Whatever
Prescott does there's some kind of good reason for."
"It's enough, for to-night, declared Greg, to know that the royal
old fellow is safe, anyway. To-morrow, well have the story, if
there is any story worth having."
Turnback Haynes received the news with mingled emotions. His
first sensation was one of relief at knowing that he was not actually
a murderer---one who had wickedly slain a fellow human being.
It was not long, though, before Haynes became seized with absolute
fright over the thought that Prescott must have recognized him.
"In that case, all I can do is to stick out for absolute
and repeated denial," shivered the turnback. "There's one great
thing about West Point, anyway---a cadets word simply has to be
taken, unless there is the most convincing proof to the contrary.
I guess Lewis will remember that I came in from the car ahead
or seemed to. But I wonder if anyone, officer or cadet, saw me
running along at the side of the train?"
It was small wonder that Cadet Haynes failed to get any sleep
that night. All through the long hours to reveille the cadet
tossed and tumbled on his cot. Fortunately for him, his roommate
was too sound a sleeper to hear the tossing.
Heavy-eyed, shuddering, Haynes rose in the morning. Through the
usual routine he went, and at last marched off to section recitation,
outwardly as jaunty as any other man in the corps, yet with dark
dread lurking in his soul.
It was about noon when Prescott reported at the adjutant's office,
next going to the office of the commandant of cadets.
By both officers Dick was congratulated on his fortunate escape
from death. Each officer asked him a few direct questions. Prescott
stated that he had remained over night with the village clergyman,
giving his wet, icy clothing a chance to dry.
It was when asked how he came to fall from the rear platform of
the car that the cadet hesitated.
"I thought I was thrown from the platform, sir," Dick replied
in each case.
"Who was on the platform with you?"
"No one, sir, an instant before."
"Did you see any one come out of the car?"
"No, sir."
"Did you recognize any assailant?"
"No-o, sir."
"Have you any good reason to suspect any particular person?"
"No _good_ reason, sir."
"Could any one have come out of the car, unless it had been a
tactical officer, a cadet or a railway employee?"
"No, sir."
That was as far as the questioning went, for both the adjutant
and the commandant of cadets believed that Dick had been pitched
from the rear platform by some sudden movement of the car. No
other belief seemed sane enough to be considered.
It was the commandant of cadets who suggested:
"If you feel the slightest need of it, Mr. Prescott, you may go
at once to cadet hospital, and be examined by one of the surgeons.
We don't want you coming down with illness later, on account
of a neglected chill."
"I am very certain I don't need a medical officers attention,
sir," replied Cadet Prescott, with just the trace of a smile.
"The Rev. Dr. Brown and his wife were about the most attentive
people I ever met. I was pretty cold, sir, when I reached their
house. But inside of five minutes they had me rolled up in warm
blankets and were dosing me with ginger tea. Afterwards they
gave me a hot supper. I slept like a top, sir, last night."
"You feel fit then, Mr. Prescott, to return to full duty? asked
the K.C.
"Wholly fit, sir."
"Very good. Then I will so mark you. Go to your quarters, Mr.
Prescott, and wait until the next call, which will be the call
for dinner formation."
Saluting the commandant, Prescott left the cadet guard house,
hastening to his own room.
A few minutes later Cadet Holmes burst in upon his chum.
To him Dick told the whole story of his striking the water, of
his swimming to shore, and of hurried trip through the cold night
to the nearest house.
"And you're sure you were pushed?" questioned greg thoughtfully.
"Either I was pushed, or it was all a horrid dream," replied Dick
fervently.
"Then why didn't you so tell the K.C.?"
"I answered the K.C. truthfully, Greg. I told him all that I really
know. I didn't feel called upon, and wasn't asked, to tell him
anything that I guessed."
"What is your guess?" insisted Holmes, with the privilege of a
friend.
"Greg, as far as I can be sure of anything without knowing it,
I am absolutely certain that a cadet came out of the car, behind
me, and that he pushed me off the platform."
"A cadet?" demanded Greg, turning pale. To Holmes it seemed atrocious
to couple the word cadet with any act of dishonor.
"Greg, as I plunged through the air, I succeeded in turning a trifle.
I am convinced, in my own mind, that I saw the gray cape overcoat
of a cadet I am also certain that I got a glimpse of his face.
The only limit to my certainty is that I wouldn't want to name
the man under oath."
"Who was he?" demanded Holmes.
Advancing, placing his lips against one of Greg's ears, Prescott
whispered the name:
"Haynes! But you mustn't breathe this to a living soul! Remember,
I wouldn't dare swear to the truth of what I've hinted to you."
Greg Holmes, wholly and utterly loyal to the cadet corps of which
he was himself an honored member, went even paler. He leaned
back against the wall, clenching his fists tightly.
"Haynes?" he whispered. "I don't like the fellow, and I never
did. He's no friend of yours, either, Dick. But he wears the
staunch old cadet uniform and has had more than three years of
the West Point traditions. It seems impossible, Dick. Had anyone
else but you told me this, even against Haynes, I would have turned
on my heel and walked away."
"I hope it isn't true---I hope it is all a hideous nightmare,
born of my dismay when I found myself going through space!" breathed
Dick fervently.
"What are you going to do about this?" asked Greg huskily.
"Nothing whatever."
"You are not going to mention Haynes to anyone else?"
"No, sirree! I shall keep my eyes open a bit when Haynes is around;
that is all."
"I hope it isn't true---oh, I hope it isn't true," breathed Greg
fervently. "But I know you're no liar, Dick, and you're no dreamer
of dreams! Confound it, I almost wish you hadn't told me this.
But I asked you to."
Greg's face was a queer ashen gray in color.
At that moment the call for dinner formation sounded.
"You're all ready, Dick, so hustle along. I've clean forgotten
to get myself ready. You hustle, and I'll try not to be late
in the formation."
As Cadet Prescott hastened along through the lower corridor, he
came face to face with the turnback.
Haynes stopped short, his jaw drooping. For just a second he
stiffened his arms as though to throw himself in an attitude of
defence.
Halting, without speaking or raising a hand, Dick Prescott looked
squarely into the other man's eyes.
Haynes turned ghastly pale, his jaw moving nervously as though
he would speak and could not.
A smile of scorn flashed into Prescotts face. Haynes fairly writhed
beneath that contemptuous look. Then, still without a word or
a sound, Prescott passed on.
"He did it!" muttered Dick to himself.
Yet, with the certainty of the turnbacks guilt, Prescott did not
wish Haynes any personal harm. The only greatly perturbed thought
that ran through Dick's mind was:
"That fellow is not fit for the Army. Must he be allowed to go
on and graduate?"
Thrice during the dinner period Dick allowed his glance to rove
over to the turnback. Not once did he catch Haynes's eye, but
that young man was making only a pretence at eating.
"If he really pushed me from the train," muttered Prescott to himself,
"I hope Haynes worries about it until he fesses cold in some study
and so has to leave the Military Academy. For he'll never be
fit to be an officer. He couldn't command other men with justice."