CAPTAIN HANDLEE'S VISIT
"Very well done, young gentlemen--very well done indeed," complimented
Colonel Masterly, as Dick and his fellow cadets came driving slowly past
where the head of the academy sat with some visitors, and the army
officer.
"Indeed, the regulars will have to look to their laurels when such lads
as these are doing as well as that," observed the officer. "I thought
they were going to have a spill there, at one time. But the lad on the
off horse saved the day. Who is he?"
"Millionaire Hamilton's son," said the superintendent in a low voice,
yet not so low but that Dick heard him.
"I wish they wouldn't refer to me that way," he thought. "I'd like to be
myself once in a while--just Dick Hamilton. Money isn't what it's
cracked up to be."
"Why, Hamilton, are you hurt?" asked Major Webster, as Dick guided his
horse to the place where the animals would be unhitched. He looked at
the red-stained handkerchief around the young millionaire's hand.
"Just a scratch," replied Dick bravely, though the pain of his crushed
finger made him wince. "I caught it in the gun. It doesn't amount to
anything."
He saw Dutton looking at him, and he fancied he detected a sneer on the
cadet captain's face.
"Well, go to the surgeon, and have it dressed," said the major. "We
don't want you to get blood poison. Is yours the only injury of the
day?"
"I guess so," replied Dick, with an attempted laugh.
"A scratch!" exclaimed the surgeon, when Dick had so characterized the
wound, as he came to have it dressed. "Well, I wouldn't want many
scratches like that. Why the top of the finger is crushed. You shouldn't
have kept on after you got this."
"I'd have to if we were fighting in earnest," was all Dick said, and he
gritted his teeth hard to keep from screaming out when the surgeon
dressed the wound.
Fortunately the remainder of the week was devoted to the more quieter
forms of military life, the cadets spending considerable time in
studying, drilling and reciting.
One afternoon word was sent to Dick, who was studying in his room, that
a visitor desired to see him.
"Who is it?" he asked the housekeeper, who brought the message.
"I don't know. It's a gentleman from Hamilton Corners."
"I hope it's some of the boys," murmured Dick. "Or even a sight of
'Hank' Darby would be welcome," for, in spite of the activities at
Kentfield, Dick was a bit homesick.
He found waiting for him Captain Handlee.
"I come to see if you had any news of my son," said the veteran
pitifully. "I'm about to go out west on a clue I have, but I thought I'd
stop off here."
"No," replied Dick, "I'm sorry, but I haven't any news for you. I wrote
you about my inquiries."
"Yes, I know, but I hoped something might have happened since then."
"No, I regret to say, there hasn't. But how does it come that you're
going out west?"
"Well, I have an idea I can get some clues there. I'm going to look up
some old soldiers who were in my son's company. Your father gave me the
money to go."
"My father? Is he home?" asked Dick quickly, hoping his parent had
unexpectedly returned from abroad.
"Oh, no. He gave it to me before he left. I mentioned that I'd like to
go out west, and he gave me a good sum. I don't know what I'd do but for
him."
"When are you going west?" asked Dick.
"Right away. I guess I'd better be leaving here now."
"If you have any time to spare, captain, perhaps you'd like to stay and
see the cadets go through some drills."
"I think I would, if the commander will let me."
"Of course he will. Old soldiers are always welcome here. We're going to
have some wall-scaling drills just before parade this evening. I'd like
to have you stay and see them."
"I will, thanks."
Dick spoke to Colonel Masterly about Captain Handlee, and the veteran
not only received a cordial invitation to remain, but was taken in
charge by Major Webster, who asked him to occupy his quarters, and take
his meals there.
The wall-scaling drills were always enjoyed by the cadets as they
offered chances for rough and ready fun. The walls were structures of
boards, between ten and fifteen feet high, placed on the open field, and
the object was for the lads, by means of a pyramid formation, to get all
their comrades over the top, while the men left behind, who had assisted
their fellows over, would either scramble up by means of a rope,
anchored by lads on the other side, or would be pulled up by their
comrades who leaned over the high fence.