The breakfast consisted of creamed chipped beef, potatoes and hot corn
bread, topped off with apple pie.
"This looks good to me," muttered Sam Hickey in a low tone, because out
of the corners of his eyes he saw the quartermaster observing him
attentively.
After they were well started on the meal, the officer left the room in
order that the new boys might get acquainted, which would not be likely
as long as he was in the room.
"Hullo, red-head!" greeted an apprentice across the table from Sam.
"What might be your name?"
"It might be 'most anything, only it isn't. I'm Sam Hickey; who are
you?"
"Louis Flink. Where you from?"
"Piedmont. Where do you live when you are at home?"
"Pennsylvania."
"Then you must be a Pennsylvania Dutchman. I've heard of that kind
before, but you're the first one I ever saw."
There was a titter at this, and Flink's dark face flushed.
"Sam, you shouldn't have said that," warned Dan. "It was not very
courteous."
"Neither is he. I don't like him."
"I'll lick you for that when we get outside," growled Flink. "You're too
fresh."
Sam was about to make a retort when Dan pinched him sharply.
"Keep still. You will get into trouble."
Sam's freckles were standing out again and his shock of red hair seemed
to be rising higher.
"He--he threatened me--he gave me a dare. I'll make him wish he were back
in Pennsylvania," protested Sam belligerently.
"Take my advice and do nothing of the sort. You forget that everything
we do now will count for or against us. It won't do to start in on our
career with bad conduct marks against us."
"I don't care; I----"
Dan's hand closed firmly over the arm of his companion. Sam twisted
angrily, but gradually he regained control of himself. He did not look
toward the scowling face of Flink, not daring to trust himself to do so.
Dan's grip relaxed. The two lads bent over their plates and resumed
their interrupted meal.
"Look out!" sang out a voice.
Dan's head was inclined slightly toward that of his companion, he being
about to make some remark to Sam. Both lads glanced up quickly their
ears caught the warning.
"Duck it!" came the second warning. But the warning was too late.
Smack!
Something hit Dan Davis squarely in the face, filling mouth, eyes and
nostrils. He could not see a thing.
Sam Hickey started to his feet with an angry growl.
Smack!
Something smote him on the face with the same result.
A piece of pie had been hurled at Sam, but the first piece had missed
him, Dan catching the full force of it. The second shot had been
delivered with better aim, and Sam that time got the pie that was
intended for him.
"Who did that?" demanded Dan, wiping the sticky stuff from his eyes and
glaring about.
About that time Sam had succeeded in freeing his own eyes. His face was
pale and the patches of freckles stood out in bold relief.
"You threw that pie, Flink."
"Yes; he threw the pie," answered a chorus of voices.
"Never mind; you need not tell me about it, fellows. I'll take care of
Mr. Flink. I'll hand him back as good as he sent, and it will not be pie
either."
Sam, whom Dan had pulled back into his chair, started to rise again.
"Look out! Here comes an officer," warned a boy sitting on the other
side of him.
Sam sank back into his chair and began mopping the remnants of the pie
from his face, while Dan was doing the same for himself.
"Not a word," whispered Dan warningly.
The quartermaster was standing in the doorway, eyeing the group of
rookies sternly.
"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded.
No one answered. All hands bent over their plates.
"Attention!"
The lads, after an instant's hesitation, straggled to their feet. That
is, all did save Sam Hickey. Sam coolly helped himself to another chunk
of hot corn bread, which he proceeded to eat.
"Attention!"
The eyes of the quartermaster were fixed upon him, but Sam did not move.
The officer walked over and touched the lad on the shoulder. Sam looked
up in well-feigned surprise.
"Did you not hear my command?"
"Oh, talking to me, were you?" questioned the boy innocently.
"Do you understand the meaning of 'Attention'?"
"I suppose it means to pay attention."
"It means that you are to come to attention. If you are sitting, when
the command is given, you are to rise instantly and come to attention."
"Yes, sir."
There was a broad grin on the faces of all the apprentices, save that of
the dark-faced Louis Flink. His head was slouched forward and he was
peering up at the officer, a resentful scowl on his face.
"Attention!"
This time Sam Hickey got to his feet, wiped his face and mouth with his
handkerchief, and slowly came to attention.
"Next time you will be put on extra duty," announced the officer. "I
will excuse you this time, as you do not understand the regulations
thoroughly. Now what has been going on here?"
There was silence in the mess hall.
"Something has been thrown--some one has been throwing food. I see
remnants of it on the floor there," the officer added, pointing
accusingly.
Sam turned, looking at the spot indicated as if in surprise.
"Attention! Keep your eyes to the front. If I am not----"
"It was pie," piped a voice at the lower end of the table.
"Pie?"
"Yes, sir."
"Some one threw it?"
"Yes, sir."
"At whom?"
The lad, a very young recruit, pointed to Sam and Dan. There were traces
of pie on Dan's cheeks still.
Dan had given the young recruit a warning glance, whereat the lad
checked himself and volunteered no further information.
"Davis, is this true?" demanded the quartermaster sternly.
"Yes, sir."
"One of these men threw a piece of pie at you?"
"A piece of pie hit me in the face. There were two pieces thrown."
"Both at you?"
"I think not."
"At whom, then?"
"One struck me in the face and the other hit my friend Sam, sir."
"You know who threw the pie?"
"Yes, sir."
"Name him."
Dan was silent.
"Point out the man who did it."
"Sir, I would rather not," answered Dan, eyeing the officer steadily,
but with nothing of disrespect in his gaze.
"I repeat, point out the man."
"Sir, I have no wish to inform on one of my shipmates. I wish you would
not press the question, sir. I wish to obey orders strictly, but I
cannot be a sneak. Perhaps the pie was thrown in a spirit of fun. I am
sure the man who threw it is sorry for his act now, and then there was
no harm done, except that my uniform is slightly soiled."
The quartermaster turned to Sam Hickey. For a moment he eyed the
freckled-faced boy steadily. Sam did not quail. He returned the
quartermaster's gaze steadily.
"You were hit also?"
"Yes, sir."
"With the same piece?"
"No, sir; with a second piece."
"Then the first one must have been intended for you," decided the
officer shrewdly.
"I think it was, sir, but it was not a good shot. I could beat that
myself."
"Silence!"
"Yes, sir."
"And you know who threw the pie?"
"I could guess, though I didn't see much of anything when the pie hit
me. I got a mouthful, too."
"Who threw it?"
Sam hesitated, shifted his weight from one foot to the other, twisting
about as if seeking some means of escape from his present position.
"I can't tell you, sir," he said in a low, determined voice.
"You mean you will not?"
"I mean, sir, that I would rather not. If you will excuse me I'll take
care of the fellow who struck me with the apple pie, all in good time.
He won't use my face for a target another time, after I get through with
him."
The apprentices, forgetful of discipline, burst out into a roar of
laughter.