Love and Combat
[Illustration]
At reveille the next morning, as the roll was called in the company
street, Private Jinks did not answer to his name. They found him in his
tent delirious and in a high fever. His pillow was a puddle of water.
It was necessary to have him taken to the hospital, and before long he
was duly installed there in a small separate room. The captain of his
company instituted an inquiry into the causes of his illness and
reported that he had undoubtedly fainted away and thrown water over
himself to bring himself to. The surgeon in charge of the hospital
thereupon certified that this was the case, and in this way bygones
officially became bygones. It was late in the afternoon before Sam
recovered consciousness. A negro soldier, who had been detailed to
act as hospital orderly, was adjusting his bed-clothes, and Sam opened
his eyes.
"Gettin' better, Massa Jinks?" said the man, smiling his good will.
"Company Jinks, all present and accounted for," cried Sam, saluting as
if he were a first sergeant on parade.
"You're here in de hospital, Massa," said the man, who was known as
Mose; "you ain't on parade sure."
Sam looked round inquiringly.
"Is this the hospital?" he asked. "Why am I in the hospital?"
"You've been hurtin' yourself somehow," answered Mose with a low
chuckle. "There's lots of fourth-class men hurts themselves. But
you'll be all right in a week."
"In a week!" exclaimed Sam. "But I can't skip drills and everything for
a week!"
"Now, don't you worry, Massa Jinks. You're pretty lucky. We've had some
men here hurted themselves that had to go home for good, and some of
'em, two or three, never got well, and died. But bless you, you'll soon
be all right. Doctor said so."
Sam had to get what consolation he could from this. His memory began to
come back, and he recalled the beginning of the hazing.
"Is Cadet Cleary in the hospital?" he asked.
"No, sah."
"Won't you try to get word to him to come and see me here, if he can?"
"Yes, Massa, I'll try. But they won't always let 'em come. Maybe
they'll let him Sunday afternoon."
Sure enough, Cleary succeeded in getting permission to pay Sam a call
on Sunday.
"Well, old man, I've got to thank you for letting me out of a lot
of trouble," he cried as he clasped Sam's hand and sat down by the
bedside.
"Did they duck you, too?" asked Sam. "You must be stronger than I am.
It's a shame I couldn't stand it."
"No. When they'd nearly killed you they let me off. Don't you be
ashamed of anything. They kept you in there five minutes--I'm not
sure it wasn't ten. If you weren't half a fish, you'd never have
come to, that's all there is of that. And after you'd drunk all
that tabasco, too!"
"Is my voice quite right?" asked Sam.
"Yes, thank fortune, there's no danger of your squeaking like
Captain Clark."
Sam sighed.
"And is my nose quite straight?"
"Yes, of course; why shouldn't it be?"
Sam sighed again.
"I'm afraid," he said, "that no one will know that I've been hazed."
He was silent for a few minutes. Then a smile came over his face.
"Wasn't it grand," he went on, "to think that we were following in
the steps of all the great generals of the century! When I put my
head into the tub and felt my legs waving in the air, I thought of
General Meriden striking his head so manfully against the bottom,
and I thanked heaven that I was suffering for my country. I tried
to bump my head hard too, and it does ache just a little; but I'm
afraid it won't show."
He felt his head with his hand and looked inquiringly at Cleary, but
his friend's face gave him no encouragement, and he made no answer.
"I think I saw somebody taking a snap-shot of me up there," said Sam.
"Do you think I can get a print of it? I wish you'd see if you can get
one for me."
"It's not so easy," said Cleary. "He was a third-class man, and of
course we are not allowed to speak to him. They've just divided us
fourth-class men up among the rest to do chores for them. My boss is
Captain Clark, and he's the only upper-class man I can speak to, and
he would knock me down if I asked him about it. You'd better try
yourself when you come out."
"Who am I assigned to?" asked Sam.
"To Cadet Smith, and he's a much easier man. You're in luck. But my
time's up. Good-by," and Cleary hurried away.
Sam Jinks left the hospital just one week after his admission. He might
have stayed a day or two longer, but he insisted that he was well
enough and prevailed upon the doctor to let him go. He set to work at
once with great energy to make up for lost time and to learn all that
had been taught in the week in the way of drilling. The morning after
his release, when guard-mounting was over, Cleary told him that Cadet
Smith wished to speak to him, and Sam went at once to report to him.
"Jinks," said Smith, when Sam had approached and saluted, "I am going
down that path there to the right. Wait till I am out of sight and then
follow me down. I don't want any one to see us together."
"All right, sir," said Sam.
When Smith had duly disappeared, Sam followed him and found him
awaiting him in a secluded spot by the river. Sam saluted again as he
came up to him.
"I suppose you understand, Jinks, that none of us upper-class men can
afford to be seen talking to you fourth-class beasts?"
"Yes, sir."
"Of course, it wouldn't do. Don't look at me that way, Jinks. When an
upper-class man is polite enough to speak to you, you should look down,
and not into his face."
Sam dropped his eyes.
"Now, Jinks, I wanted to tell you that you've been assigned to me to do
such work as I want done. I'm going to treat you well, because you seem
to be a pretty decent fellow for a beast."
"Thank you, sir," said Sam.
"Yes, you seem disposed to behave as you should, and I don't want to
have any trouble with you. All you'll have to do is to see that my
boots are blacked every night, keep my shirts and clothes in order,
take my things to the wash, clean out my tent, and be somewhere near
so that you can come when I call you; do you understand?"
"Yes, sir."
"Oh, then, of course, you must make my bed, and bring water for me, and
keep my equipments clean. If there's anything else, I'll tell you. If
you don't do everything I tell you, I'll report it to the class
committee and you'll have to fight, do you understand?"
"Yes, sir."
"That will do, Jinks; you may go."
"I beg your pardon, sir. May I ask you a question?"
"What?" shouted Smith. "Do you mean to speak to me without being
spoken to?"
"I know it's very wrong, sir," said Sam, "but there's something I want
very much, and I don't know how else to get it."
"Well, I'll forgive you this time, because I'm an easy-going fellow. If
it had been anybody else but me, you'd have got your first fight. What
is it? Out with it."
"Please, sir, when I was haz--I mean exercised the other night, I
saw somebody taking photographs of it. Do you think I could get
copies of them?"
"What do you want them for?" asked Smith suspiciously.
"I'd like to have something to remember it by," said Sam. "I want to be
able to show that I did just what Generals Gramp and German did."
Smith smiled. "All right," he replied. "I'll get them for you if I can,
and I'll expect you to work all the better for me. Now go."
"Oh, thank you, sir--thank you!" cried Sam; and he went.
That night he and Cleary talked over the situation in whispers as they
lay in their bunks.
"I don't like this business at all," said Cleary. "I didn't come
to East Point to black boots and make beds. It's a fraud, that's
what it is."
"Please don't say that," said Sam. "They've always done it,
haven't they?"
"I suppose so."
"Then it must be right. Do you think General Meriden would have done it
if it had been wrong? We must learn obedience, mustn't we? That's a
soldier's first duty. We must obey, and how could we learn to obey
better than by being regular servants?"
"And how about obeying the rules of the post that forbid the whole
business, hazing and all?" asked Cleary.
Sam was nonplussed for a moment.
"I'm not a good hand at logic," he said. "Perhaps you can argue me
down, but I _feel_ that it's all right. I wouldn't miss this special
duty business for anything. It will make me a better soldier and
officer."
"Sam," said Cleary, who had now got intimate enough with him to use his
Christian name,--"Sam, you were just built for this place, but I'll be
hanged if I was."
The summer hastened on to its close, and the first-and third-class men
had a continual round of social joys. The hotel on the post was full of
pretty girls who doted on uniforms, and there were hops, and balls,
and flirtations galore. The "beasts" of the fourth class were shut out
from this paradise, but they could not help seeing it, and Sam used his
eyes with the rest of them. He had never before seen even at a distance
such elegance and luxury. The young women especially, in their gay
summer gowns, drew his attention away sometimes even from military
affairs. There was a weak spot in his make-up of which he had never
before been aware. There was one young woman in particular who caught
his eye, a vision of dark hair and black eyes which lived on in his
imagination when it had vanished from his external sight. Sam actually
fancied that the young woman looked at him with approving eyes, and he
was emboldened to look back. It was impossible for social intercourse
between a young lady in society and a fourth-class "beast" to go
further than this, and at this point their relations stood, but Sam was
sure that the maiden liked his looks. It so happened that her most
devoted admirer was none other than Cadet Saunders, who was continually
hovering about her. Sam was devoured with jealousy. In his low estate
he was even unable to find out her name for a long time. He could not
speak to upper-class men, and his classmates knew nothing of the gay
world above them. However, he discovered at last that she was a Miss
Hunter from the West. His informant was a waiter at the hotel whom he
waylaid on his way out one night, for cadets were forbidden to enter
the hotel.
"I suppose she has her father and mother with her?" Sam suggested.
"Oh, no, sir. She's all alone. She's been here all alone every summer
this six years."
"That's strange," said Sam. "Hasn't she a protector?"
"Oh, yes! she has protectors enough. You see, she's always engaged."
"Engaged!" exclaimed the unhappy youth. "How long has she been engaged,
and to whom?"
"Why, this time she's only been engaged two weeks," said the waiter,
"and it's Cadet Saunders she's engaged to; but don't worry, sir, it's
an old story. She's been engaged to a different man every summer for
six years, and at first she generally had two men a summer. She began
with officers of the first class, two in a year; then she fell off to
one in a season; then she dropped to third class; and now she has Mr.
Saunders because his nose isn't just right, sir, if I may say so."
Sam hardly knew what to think. The news of her engagement had plunged
him into despair, but the information that engagement was with her a
temporary matter was decidedly welcome; and even if it were couched in
language that could hardly be called flattering, still he was glad to
hear it. Sam thanked the waiter and gave him a silver coin which he
could ill spare from his pay, but he was satisfied that he had got his
money's worth.
Sam ruminated deep and long over this hard-wrung gossip. He could not
believe that the object of his dreams was no longer in her first
girlhood. There was some mistake. Then it was absurd to suppose that
she was reduced to the acceptance of inferior third-class men. How
could a waiter understand the charms of Saunders' historical nose?
Evidently she had selected him from the whole corps on account of his
exploits as an object of hazing. Sam almost wished that Saunders' nose
was a blemish, for it would help his chances, but candor obliged him to
admit that it was, on the contrary, one of his rival's strong points,
and he sighed once again to think that he bore no marks on his own
person of the hazing ordeal. All that Sam could do now was to wait. He
recognized the fact that no girl with self-respect would speak to a
"beast," and he determined to be patient until in another twelvemonth
he should have become a full-fledged third-class man himself. The other
engagements had proved ephemeral, why not that with Saunders?
Fortunately this new sentiment of Sam's did not interfere with his
military work. Instead of that it inspired him with new fervor, and he
now strove to be a perfect soldier not only for its own sake, but for
her sake too.
Meanwhile Saunders began to imagine that Sam looked at his _fiancee_ a
little too frequently and long, and he determined to punish him for it.
How was this to be done? In his deportment toward the upper-class men
Sam was absolutely perfect, and had begun to win golden opinions from
instructors and cadets alike. He always did more than was required of
him, and did it better than was expected. He treated all upper-class
men with profound respect, and he did it without effort because it came
natural to him. He never ventured to look them in the eye, and he
blushed and stammered when they addressed him. Saunders tried to find a
flaw in his behavior so that he might have the matter taken up by the
class committee, but there was no flaw to be found. Self-respect
prevented him from giving the real reason, his jealousy; besides, it
was out of the question to drag in the name of a lady.
One day Saunders, Captain Clark, Smith, and some other cadets were
discussing the matter of fourth-class discipline, and the merits of
some recent fights which had been ordered between fourth-class men
and their seniors for the purpose of punishing the former, when
Saunders tried skilfully to lead the conversation round to the case
of Sam Jinks.
"There are some fellows in the fourth class that need a little taking
down, don't you think so?" he asked.
"If there are, take them down," said Clark laconically. "Who do you
mean?"
"Why, there's that Jinks fellow, for instance. He struts about as if he
were a major-general."
"He is pretty well set up, that's a fact," said Smith, "but you can't
object to that. I must say he does his work for me up to the handle.
Look at that for a shine"; and he exhibited one of his boots to the
crowd.
"I wonder if he can fight?" said Saunders, changing his tactics. "He's
a well-built chap, and I'd like to see what he can do. How can we get
him to fight if we can't haul him up for misbehaving?"
"It's easy enough, if he's a gentleman," answered Clark, who was a
recognized authority in matters of etiquette.
"How?" asked Saunders.
"Why, all you've got to do is to insult him and then he'll have to
fight."
"How would you insult him?" asked Saunders eagerly.
"The best way," said Clark sententiously, "is to call him a hog in
public, and then, if he is a gentleman, he will be ready to fight."
"I'll do it," said Saunders. "I'm dying to see that fellow fight. Of
course, I don't care to fight him. We can get Starkie to do that, I
suppose."
"Yes," said Clark. "We'll select somebody that can handle him and teach
him his place, depend on that."
Saunders set out at once to carry out the program. As soon as he found
Jinks in a group of fourth-class men, he went up to him, and cried in a
loud voice,
"Jinks, you're a hog."
"Yes, sir," said Sam, saluting respectfully.
"Do you hear what I say? you're a wretched hog."
"Yes, sir."
"You're a hog, and if you're a gentleman you'll be ready to fight if
you're asked to."
"Yes, sir," responded Sam, as Saunders turned on his heel and walked
away. Somehow Clark's plan did not seem to have worked to perfection,
but it must be all right, and he hastened to report the affair to his
class committee, who promptly determined that Cadet Jinks must fight,
and that their classmate Starkie be requested to represent them in the
encounter. Starkie weighed at least thirty pounds more than Sam, was
considerably taller, had several inches longer reach of arm, and was a
practised boxer. Sam had never boxed in his life. These facts seemed to
the committee only to enhance the interesting character of the affair.
"We're much obliged to you, Saunders," said the chairman. "You've done
just right to call our attention to this matter. These beasts must be
taught their place. The only manly way to settle it is by having
Starkie fight him. You have acted like a gentleman and a soldier."
The fight was arranged for a Saturday afternoon on the familiar
hazing-ground near the old fort. Sam selected Cleary and another
classmate for his seconds, and Starkie chose Saunders and Smith.
"Jinks," said Smith in a moment of unwonted affability, "you've got a
chance now to distinguish yourself. I'll see that you get fair play. Of
course, you'll have to fight to a finish, but you must take your
medicine like a man."
"Did General Gramp ever have to fight here?" asked Sam, touching
his cap.
"Of course," said Smith, "and on that very ground, too. You don't seem
to have read much history."
The prospect of the fight gave Sam intense joy. His sense of glory
seemed to obliterate all anticipation of pain. This was his first
opportunity to become a real hero. When he was hazed he only had to
suffer; now, on the other hand, he was called upon to act. He got
Cleary to show him some of the simplest rules of boxing, and he
practised what little he could during the three intervening days. He
was quite determined to knock Starkie out or die in the attempt.
At four o'clock on the day indicated a crowd of first-and third-class
men were collected to see the great event. No fourth-class men were
allowed to attend except the two seconds. A ring was formed; Captain
Clark was chosen as referee; and the two combatants, stripped to the
waist, put on their hard gloves and entered the ring. Starkie eyed his
antagonist critically, while Sam with a heavenly smile on his face did
not focus his eyes at all, but seemed to be dreaming far away. When the
word was given, however, he dashed in and made some desperate lunges at
Starkie. It was easy to see in a moment that Sam could do nothing. He
could not even reach his opponent, his arms were so much shorter. If
Starkie held one of his arms out stiffly, Sam could not get near him
and was entirely at his mercy. The third-class man consequently set
himself leisurely to work at the task of punishing the unfortunate
Jinks. Two or three blows about the face and jaw which started the
blood in profusion ended the first round. Sam did not recognize the
inevitable result of the fight, and was anxious to begin again. He did
not seem to feel any pain from the blows. Two or three rounds had the
same result, and Sam became weaker and weaker. At last he could only go
into the ring and receive punishment without making an effort to avert
it, but he did not flinch.
"Did you ever see such a chap?" said Smith to Saunders. "Let's call the
thing off."
"Nonsense," said the latter. "Wait till he's knocked insensible"; and
the rest of the spectators expressed their agreement with him.
Just then a sound of marching was heard, and a company of cadets were
seen coming up the hill in command of an army officer.
"Hullo, Clark," whispered Smith. "Stop the fight. Here comes old
Blair, and he may report us."
"Not much," said Clark. "He'll mind his own business."
The company approached within a few yards of the ring.
"Eyes right!" shouted Captain Blair, and every man in the company
turned his eyes away from the assembled crowd, and Blair himself stared
into the woods on the other side of the path. The company had almost
passed out of sight when Blair's voice was heard again.
"Front!" and the danger of detection had blown over.
After this faint interruption, Sam was brought up once more, pale and
bloody, and hardly able to stand. Yet he smiled through the blood.
Starkie stood off and gave him his _coup de grace_, a full blow in the
solar plexus, which doubled him up quite unconscious on the ground.
Clark declared the fight finished, and the crowd broke up hastily,
leaving Cleary and his associate to get Sam away as best they could.
They had a pail of water, sponges and towels, and they bathed his
face; and after half an hour's work were rewarded by having him open
his eyes. In another half-hour he was able to stand, and supporting him
on each side, they led him slowly down to the hospital.
"What's the matter?" said the doctor as they entered the office. "Oh! I
see. You found him lying bleeding up by Fort Hut, didn't you?"
"Yes, sir," said Cleary.
"He must have fallen down and hit his head against a stone, don't you
think so?"
"Yes, sir."
"That's a dangerous place; the pine-needles make it very slippery,"
said the doctor, as he entered the case in his records. "Here, Mose,
put Cadet Jinks to bed."
This time Sam was laid up for two weeks, but he felt amply repaid for
this loss of time by a visit from no less a person than Cadet Smith.
"Mind you never tell any one I came here," said Smith, "and treat me
just the same when you come out as you did before; but I wanted to
tell you you're a brick. I never saw a man stand up to a dressing the
way you did, and that's the truth."
[Illustration: THE MANLY SPORT AT EAST POINT
"STARKEY STOOD OFF AND GAVE HIM HIS COUP DE GRACE"]
Tears of joy rolled down Sam's damaged face.
"I've brought you those photographs of the hazing, too," said Smith
with a laugh. And he produced two small prints from his pocket. Sam
took them with trembling hands and gazed at them with rapture. One of
them represented Cleary and Jinks tied to the stake, apparently about
to be burned to death, and Sam was delighted to see the ultra-perfect
position which he had assumed. The other photograph had been taken the
moment after Sam's immersion in the tub. He could see his hands
clutching the rim, while his legs were widely separated in the air.
"It might be General Meriden as well as me," he cried joyously. "Nobody
could tell the difference."
"That's so," said Smith.
"I shall always carry them next my heart," said Sam. "How can I thank
you enough? I am sorry that I can't black your boots this week."
"Oh! never mind," said Smith magnanimously, looking down at his feet.
"Cleary does them pretty well. You'll be out before long."
When Sam was discharged from the hospital the cadet corps had struck
camp and gone into barracks for the year. The summer maidens, too, had
fled, and East Point soon settled down to the monotony of winter work.
Every cadet looked forward already to the next summer: the first class
to graduation; the second to the glories of first-class supremacy in
camp and ballroom; the third class to their two months' furlough as
second-class men; but the fourth class had happier anticipations than
any of the rest, for they were to be transformed in June from "beasts"
into men, into real third-class cadets, with all the rights and
privileges of human beings. Sam's dream was also irradiated with the
hope of winning the affections of the fair Miss Hunter, to whom he had
never addressed a word, but of whose interest he felt assured. He did
not know where the assurance came from, but he had little fear of
Saunders now. Next summer Saunders would be away on leave, anyhow. Sam
knew, if no one else did, that he had actually fought for the hand of
Miss Hunter; and, tho he had been defeated, had not Smith admitted that
his defeat was a practical victory? He felt that he had won Miss
Hunter's hand in mortal combat, and he dismissed from his mind all
doubt on the subject.