Yearling camp at last! The battalion was reorganized in order to
equalize the four companies. The graduates and furlough-men—the latter
their tormentors of the previous year—were gone, and Pops wrote to
his father and McCrea that the hardest thing he had had yet to do was
to say farewell to Glenn and Rand and his own captain, Leonard—the
three First Class officers whom he and the plebes generally so greatly
admired. Otis, too, was another with whom he found it hard to part. He
didn't know how good a friend he had in him until after he was gone.
Then an odd thing happened.
The furlough-men's turn came next, and hilariously they were rushing
about the area, shaking hands right and left with the objects of their
annoying attentions of the year before. Benny Frazier was loudly and
conspicuously fraternizing with every older cadet, including a number
whom he was wont to declare nothing on earth would ever induce him to
speak to. Pops and Connell, shyly conscious of the glisten and glory
of their new chevrons, were standing a little apart at the steps of
the third division, waiting for the dinner-drum to beat, when Connell,
for the first time, as senior non-commissioned officer present for
duty, was to form the company, Pops assisting as a file-closer. The two
fast friends had been designated as acting first and third sergeants
respectively. Suddenly Woods, with two of his class-mates, in their
"spick-and-span" civilian garb, came bustling by. The others stopped
short to congratulate the pair on their chevrons and to add a friendly
word or two, and then, to Geordie's surprise, Woods looked him straight
in the eye: "Graham, I want to say before I go that I am heartily
sorry for my part in our quarrel of last summer, and that you behaved
perfectly right. Won't you shake hands?" And in an instant there
was cordial hand-clasp, and with a dozen yearlings and furlough-men
intermingled about them, there was a general "shake" all round, and
patting of one another on the back, and Woods went off happier for the
consciousness that at last he had done the manly and chivalrous thing
he should have done long before. Otis and Leonard had told him as much,
and down in the bottom of his heart he knew they were right. Only it's
so hard a thing to do. Not that a gentleman, boy or man, will shrink
from begging the forgiveness of one whom he has injured, but because
there are always so many, boys and men both, who are not gentlemen,
to sneer at what they term the "back-down."
[Illustration: "'WON'T YOU SHAKE HANDS?'"]
And so there were here. Mr. Jennings, cadet private, Company A, of the
furlough class, but kept back a few days on account of an accumulation
of demerit, and said to be in danger of deficiency in mathematics, was
very loud in his condemnation of the proceedings, now that Woods and
most of the class were gone, and there was no Glenn to overawe him.
The new First Class officers did not like Jennings, but did not know
him as thoroughly as did their predecessors. Frazier, however, was the
only member of the new yearling class who was at all sarcastic about
the reconciliation; but Benny was in bitter mood just now. Few of the
departing cadets, graduates or leave men, had troubled themselves to
say a cordial word to him. Few of his class-mates had expressed regret
at his having fallen from the head of the class, and fewer still at his
failure to win chevrons. No boy at the Point marched into camp that
lovely June morning with such a jealous demon of disappointment gnawing
at his heart as did Benny Frazier. It boded ill for himself, for his
friends, and for any new cadets who fell into his clutches; for the boy
who so loudly and persistently announced the year before that nothing
on earth could induce him to say or do a thing to worry a Fourth Class
man was become the very terror of the plebes.
For two weeks, of course, the opportunities were few. The new First
and Third classes were sent into camp as the new-comers arrived and
were brought before their examiners. The evening the order was given to
pack up and store in the trunk-rooms everything not to be taken to camp
Pops was busily at work, while Benny, being room orderly, and solely
responsible, was smoking cigarette after cigarette, and "chaffing the
corporal," as he called it. There came a sudden knock at the door;
Benny hurled the stump into a corner, and sprang to the middle of the
floor aghast. Such a thing as inspection the last night in barracks
had not occurred to him as a possibility, and this time he, not Pops,
would have to bear the punishment. He was trembling with excitement and
fear, when a drum-boy orderly poked in his head and said Mr. Graham was
wanted at the commandant's office at once. Instantly Benny broke forth
in angry abuse of the drummer, whom he accused of purposely imitating
an officer's knock, and threatened him with all manner of vengeance.
The drum-boy, instead of being abashed, looked Mr. Frazier straight in
the face, and replied:
"You will kick me down-stairs, will you? You try it if you want to get
kicked out of the corps of cadets. I'm not to be abused by the likes
of you."
And Pops, amazed at such language from a drummer to a cadet, even
though Frazier had provoked it, was still more amazed at the sudden
change that shot over his room-mate's quivering face. Geordie took the
drum-boy by the shoulder and put him promptly out into the hall.
"You know better than to speak to a cadet in that way," he said,
quietly, but sternly. "Go back to the guard-house." But the boy replied
he had another message to deliver.
"I don't speak that way to any other gentleman in the corps," said he,
"but I can't stand that fellow, neither can any of us, and you couldn't
either if you knew what we know."
But here Geordie ordered silence, and telling the boy to go about his
business and keep away from Frazier, he hurried down-stairs. At the
office were the commandant and Lieutenant Allen, also the new cadet
captain of Company B, their first sergeant of the previous year.
Presently Winn and Crandal—Graham's class-mates—arrived, and the four
cadets were called in. It was fifteen minutes thereafter when Geordie
returned to his room, his heart beating high with pride and happiness.
He had forgotten for the moment the episode of the drummer-boy. He
went bounding up to the top flight, four steps to the jump, burst in
at the door just as the orderly came backing out, stowing something in
his pocket. Frazier, still pale and with a deep line between his gloomy
eyes, nervously thrust some money between the leaves of a book. Geordie
plainly saw it. "I told you not to return here," said he, sternly, to
the boy.
"I called him in, Graham," interposed Frazier. "He—he had to apologize
for his words, or—get into trouble."
But the look on the drummer's face was not that of dejection as he
vanished, and Graham, without a word, began unpacking. Frazier lighted
a cigarette and retired to his alcove. For fifteen minutes not a word
was exchanged, then, as Graham opened the door, and loaded up with a
bundle of bedding and clothing, Frazier spoke:
"Where are you going with that truck now? You've got to take it over to
camp in the morning."
"I'm not going to camp," said Geordie, slowly—"at least, not now. And,
Frazier," continued he, laying down his bundle, "I've not yet said
one word to anybody but yourself about this. I've told you twice that
our ways were so different that we did not get along as we should as
tent or room mates, so if you want to take anybody else, do so. It'll
be some time before I come into camp, and then I shall slip into any
vacancy that there may be. To be perfectly frank, I cannot afford the
demerit it costs me to live with you, and—I don't like cigarette smoke."
"Any more than you do me, I suppose," drawled Frazier, interrupting.
"Now that you've got your chevrons, and passed to the Third Class,
you've no further use for the fellow that helped you to both."
Graham colored. It was so utterly false and unjust.
"I've no word to say against you, Frazier, and you know it. I am
obliged to you for what help you gave me, but I don't think I owe
either my chevrons or my gain in standing to you."
"Oh, you've had this thing all cut and dried for weeks," said
Benny, sneering. "You're simply moving over into Connell's room as
a preliminary to moving into camp with him, leaving me to find a
tent-mate at the last moment."
"I am not going to Connell's. I am not going to camp. I told you so,"
said Geordie, gulping down his wrath, and speaking—as he had seen
McCrea, when he was very angry—slowly and deliberately.
"Where, then? Where are you going to? Surely"—and here a sudden light
dawned on Benny—"surely _you_'ve not been turned out over plebes. You
are? _You?_ Well, may I be blessed! Listen to this, fellows," he cried,
rushing across the hall, raging within himself with envy, baffled hope
and ambition, bitter jealousy and remorse, all intermingled—"listen to
this: Corporal Pops turned out over plebes!"
"Well, why not?" answered the yearling addressed; while his room-mate
coolly demanded:
"What is there that seems ridiculous to you in that, Frazier?" And
he, too, went in to congratulate Graham, while Benny dashed miserably
down-stairs in search of some one to sympathize with him, and some one
to whom to tell the story of Graham's treachery.
"Upbraided Pops for going back on him about the tent, did he?" said
Benton after tattoo that night. "Well, the moment it was known, five
days ago, that I was to act as sergeant-major this summer, Frazier
came to ask me to choose him for a tent-mate and battalion clerk. He
can make out a prettier set of papers than any man in the class, but
I'd rather do all the work myself, and any fellow can tell him so that
likes to."
And so for two weeks after the battalion went into camp Pops remained
on duty at the menagerie, proud and happy in the trust reposed in him.
He was the junior of the corporals detailed for this important and
onerous duty. Under the supervision of Lieutenant Allen and the
command of Cadet Captain Rice, these young corporals, who but a year
ago were undergoing their own initiation, were become the instructors
and disciplinarians of the new-comers, as well as their defenders
against yearling depredations.
[Illustration: ON SPECIAL DUTY OVER PLEBES]
To Pops the duty meant ceaseless vigilance in two ways—against his
class-mates on the one hand, against himself on the other. He was a
believer in the better results to be obtained from a firm, sustained,
and dignified system of instruction, as opposed to the more snappy and
emphatic methods that had long been the accepted thing among yearling
drill-masters. The latter might be more efficacious where drills were
few and the squads careless or slouchy; but when drilling three times
a day, and drilling boys eager to learn and trying to do their best,
Pops had views of his own. At first their duties were to assist and
supervise their class-mates detailed as squad instructors, but time
and again Geordie found that a few quiet words from him, accompanied
by an illustration of the soldierly execution of the required motion,
had far more effect than the scolding of his comrades. Presently the
squads were consolidated. Then came the eventful day of their march
to camp and distribution to companies. The night before this happened
Lieutenant Allen took occasion to compliment the cadet captain on his
vigilance and management. "And what's more, sir, you were right about
Mr. Graham. Both the colonel and I thought him slow and perhaps lacking
in force, but he has done admirably."
"Yes, sir," answered Mr. Rice, "and I believe he will be just as
efficient in the battalion."
Once in camp, of course, the yearlings not on duty over plebes took
every opportunity to play the customary tricks and enforce the usual
"taking down" process. Balked in their earlier efforts, a gang led by
Frazier became conspicuous in every scheme to humiliate and annoy.
The boy who was most petulant and persistent in his complaints of
the brutality of yearling language the year before was loudest and
most annoying now, as well as the most relentless taskmaster. He was
occupying a "yearling den," the second tent from the color-line, with
two equally reckless fellows as mates, while Connell, occupying the
first sergeant's tent at the east end of the company street, had saved
a place for Geordie, who, though continued on special duty over plebes,
now slept in his own company. Frazier had made some scoffing salutation
as Pops came wheeling in his barrow-load of bedding, but Graham paid no
heed. The relations of the previous year were practically at an end.
For the first three or four nights such was the vigilance of the
officers that little active disturbance of the plebes occurred; but
at all hours of the day and evening, when the boys were not in ranks
or on duty, hazing in some form or other was going on. The hops had
begun. The post was filling up with visitors. Many of the corps had
friends and relatives at the hotels or among the families on the post.
Benny, a beautiful dancer, and bright, chatty fellow, was basking in
the sunshine of his social triumphs outside of camp and revelling in
mischief within. By the 8th of July Graham had a squad of thirty plebes
to drill and perfect in the manual, and keen was the rivalry between
his boys and Crandal's. Geordie had won the respect and was rapidly
winning the enthusiastic regard of his recruits. Crandal, far sharper
in his manner, was "much more military," as most of the yearlings said,
but the officers held different views. Both Winn and Crandal ranked
Geordie, as has been stated; yet the Kentuckian, after watching Pops's
methods while his own squad was resting, did not hesitate to say, "He
holds right over us; we're not in it with him as a drill-master"—a
statement which Crandal, however, could not for a moment indorse.
On the 10th of July every man of Geordie's squad was in the battalion,
yet forty remained who were declared not yet proficient. Some were
Winn's, some Crandal's, some were the backsliders from smaller
squads, but Winn was relieved, and sent back to the battalion to act
as color-bearer, and only Crandal and Pops were left. Four days later
Mr. Crandal was returned to his company. "Made too much noise," said
Lieutenant Allen, in explaining it afterwards, and Pops was left in
sole charge of the backward plebes. Within the week Colonel Hazzard,
after critical watching for a day or two, said to Geordie, in the
hearing of the sentry on Number Five: "That is excellent work, Mr.
Graham. You deserve great credit, sir." And the sentry on Number Five
was Benny Frazier, who listened with jealous and angry heart.
Two days later, all plebes being now regularly in the battalion,
Geordie was returned to duty with Company B, and the next day marched
on guard as junior corporal. He had heard of the arrival of Mr. and
Mrs. Frazier with their girl friends the previous evening; and just
before parade, among the throng of arriving guests, as Geordie was
returning from the post of the sentry on Number Two, he came suddenly
upon the party close to the visitors' tent. Throwing his rifle into
the other hand, Geordie lifted his shako in courteous salutation. Mr.
Frazier senior, walking with Cadet Warren, made a flourishing bow, and
in stately dignity said:
"_Good_-evening, Mr. Graham: I hope you are well, sir," but passed
quickly on. Mrs. Frazier's bow and the bows of the younger ladies
were cold and formal. A lump rose in Geordie's throat. He hated to be
misjudged.
"It's all Benny boy's doings," said Connell, angrily, when he learned
of the occurrence that night. "That young prodigy is a well-bred,
sweet-mannered cad."
It seems, too, that the Honorable Mr. Frazier adopted the same
magnificent manner to the senior officers whom he chanced to meet.
To them, to whom he could not say too much of Benny's gifts a year
gone by, he now spoke only in the most formal and ceremonious way. To
certain of the younger graduates, however, he confided his sense of the
affront put upon him personally by the omission of the name of his son
and heir ("The finest soldier of the lot, sir, as any competent and
unprejudiced officer will tell you") from the list of corporals.
But if the disappointed old gentleman would no longer recognize the
superintendent and commandant as men worthy his esteem, he was showing
odd interest in the humbler grades. Lieutenant Allen, trotting in one
evening from a ride through the mountains, came suddenly upon two dim
figures just outside the north gate. One, a drummer-boy, darted down
the hill towards the engineer barracks; the other, tall and portly,
turned his back and walked with much dignity away.
"What's old man Frazier hobnobbing with drum-boys for?" said he to
Lieutenant Breeze at the mess that evening, at which query the bright
eyes of Lieutenant Breeze blazed with added interest.
"I wish I could find out," said he.