DICK IN TROUBLE
"Well, Hamilton, I think we shall admit you to membership in the prize
troop," said Major Webster. "It was a severe test, and you did well."
"I'm glad you think so, sir," replied Dick, saluting.
There were some further trials, in some of them Dick acting the part of
the reclining cadet. 'Gene Graham could not succeed in the test, and was
rejected, much to his disappointment.
Dick was delighted to be a member of the prize troop for it brought with
it many privileges; and there was a chance to take part in parades and
similar affairs to which the other cadets were not admitted.
Very few freshmen had won the coveted honor, but it can not be said that
Dick was received with open arms into the troop. Dutton and many of his
friends belonged, and they had lost none of their unreasonable feeling
against Dick. Still they did nothing more than turn a cold shoulder
toward him, though this was enough to make the young millionaire
miserable.
However, he managed to forget some of his bad feeling in anticipation of
another football game, which was to take place two days later. He hoped
to get a chance to play, as, following a rather tame affair with a team
which the Kentfield eleven "walked all over," there was to be the second
of the championship contests with Mooretown.
This was a lively and strenuous game. Mooretown put in some new players,
and, though they did not score in the first half, when Kentfield made
one touchdown, the opponents of the cadet warriors of the gridiron took
such a brace in the second that the score was ten to four, in favor of
Mooretown, when the referee's whistle blew.
"What's the matter with your men?" asked Coach Hale of Captain Rutledge,
after the game. "They couldn't hold those fellows for a cent."
"Too much beef for us," replied the captain.
"Yes, and they tore holes in your line that you could drive an ice wagon
through," went on the coach. "Both your guards were weak. Hamilton
should have been put in."
"I couldn't very well do it, when no men were hurt."
"No, I suppose not. But if the next game doesn't go better than this one
did, I'll make a change. We can't afford to lose it."
"We shan't lose it," promised the captain, and Dick, who overheard what
was said, hoped he would get a chance to play.
Meanwhile he reported regularly for practice, and was a tower of
strength to the scrub eleven, many of the players on which, regardless
of Dutton's influence, made of Dick a better friend than heretofore.
Several unimportant games followed, one of which resulted in a tie,
Kentfield winning the others, and then came the occasion of the final
struggle with Mooretown. It was the greatest game of the season, as it
meant much to both academies.
The day before the contest Dick was surprised to receive a visit from
Russell Glen, one of the freshmen cadets, who, hitherto, had scarcely
taken the trouble to nod to him. Glen wanted to be considered a "sport,"
and Dick had heard that he had had a hand in taking Grit off to the dog
fight.
"I had a letter from a friend of mine to-day," said Glen, by way of
introduction, as he lolled in one of Dick's easy chairs. "It contained
some surprising news."
"Yes?" asked Dick politely.
"Yes, it was from Guy Fletcher, of Hamilton Corners. He spoke of you,
and asked me if I knew you."
"Well?" asked Dick, wondering what was coming.
"I was quite surprised to know that you and Guy were friends," went on
Glen.
"Oh, yes, I've known Guy for some time," said Dick, not caring to go
into particulars, and tell what a mean trick Guy, in company with Simon
Scardale, had once played on him.
"So he says. He speaks very highly of you. I've known him for some time.
He and I used to be quite chummy. But I had no idea you and he lived in
the same town, until he spoke of it in his letter. He mentioned that you
attended this academy, and asked if I was acquainted with you. I wrote
back and said that I was."
Dick looked rather surprised at this, as well he might, for, beyond a
mere nod, Glen had never shown that he knew him.
"I don't suppose I am as well acquainted with you as I might be," went
on the young "sport," calmly, "and that's my fault. I've been so busy
attending to my studies, that I haven't had much time for social calls."
Neither had many of the other cadets, Dick thought bitterly.
"But I'll make amends now," went on Glen. "I want to get to know you
better, because we both have the same friend in Guy Fletcher."
Dick didn't think it worth while to state that Guy was no particular
friend of his, since certain happenings told of in the first volume of
this series. But Glen continued:
"I wish you'd come to a little spread I'm giving to-night. Just a small
affair for some of the freshmen."
"I'll come," promised our hero, glad of the chance to meet some of his
classmates informally.
"It won't be as elaborate as the one I hear you gave," went on Glen,
"for I'm not a millionaire," and he laughed. "But I'll do the best I
can."
At first Dick thought he was going to have a good time at the affair,
for the guests, most of whom were of the "sporting" element, greeted him
cordially enough. But when Glen produced several bottles of beer, and
some cigars, Dick felt uneasy.
It was an offense, calling for severe punishment, to have intoxicants or
tobacco in the academy, and Dick realized that discovery might come any
moment. Still, he did not want to bring upon himself ridicule, and
perhaps anger, by leaving.
"Have some beer, Hamilton," urged Glen.
"It's the right sort of stuff. I had it smuggled in from town. And these
are prime cigars. I snibbled some from dad's stock before I came away."
"No, thank you," replied Dick. "I don't care for any."
"What, don't you drink?"
"No."
"Aw, you don't know what life is. Have a cigar then."
"No, I don't smoke, either."
"Humph! You're a regular molly-coddle, you are," said Glen, with a
brutal laugh.
Dick flushed.
"Maybe," he admitted, as pleasantly as he could, "but I have an idea I
shouldn't drink or smoke while in training, if for no other reason."
"Your training doesn't seem to be doing you much good," said another
cadet. "You haven't had a show in any of the games yet. Better quit
training and have some beer."
"No, thank you. Maybe I'll get a chance to play to-morrow."
But Dick's refusal had no effect on Glen's other guests. They drank more
than was good for them, and smoked considerable. They were becoming
rather noisy and silly, and Dick was in momentary terror lest some guard
or instructor should come along and discover the violation of the rules.
The spread was held in an unused room, in the basement of the east
barrack, and, though permission for it had been given, the officer in
charge of the building was supposed to keep a sort of lookout over such
affairs.
If one of the cadet officers discovered the beer and cigars he would
hardly "squeal" on his comrades, but one of the academy staff would not
be so lenient.
The fun became more and more noisy, and Dick was thinking of
withdrawing, no matter if he did offend his host, when he was saved the
trouble by something that happened.
A cadet officer, who was on night guard knocked on the door, and when
there came a sudden hush to the merry-making, he whispered that Major
Webster was approaching, and would almost certainly discover the breach
of rules.
"Quick fellows, get this stuff out of the way, and then skip!" cried
Glen, and the boys quickly hid the beer bottles, and threw away their
cigars. Then, by opening the windows, the smoke was gotten rid of, and
the cadets prepared to disperse.
"I say, Hamilton," began Glen, a bit thickly, as he walked alongside
Dick, to his room, "you couldn't lend me twenty-five dollars; could you?
I spent more on this racket than I intended, and I'm a bit short until I
get my next allowance. I want to bet a little on the game to-morrow."
"I guess I can let you have it," said Dick good naturedly. "Come to my
room, and I'll get it."
It was after ten o'clock, but as Dick had received permission to attend
the spread, he had a permit to be out after taps. Paul, who had not been
invited, was asleep when Dick and Glen entered.
"I say, Hamilton, you keep your room looking nice," said the "sport" as
he looked around the neat apartment. "I'm always getting a mark at
police inspection, for having something out of kilter. You and Drew are
as neat as girls."
"Hush! Not so loud," cautioned Dick. "You'll wake, Paul."
"Aw, what's the odds. He'll go to sleep again. It's early yet. Be a
sport!"
Glen was noisy from the beer which he had taken.
"Here is the money," said Dick, handing over some bills.
"Thanks, old chap. I'll see that you get it back all right."
"There's no hurry."
"All right; if I win, though, I'll pay you to-morrow. Do you think we'll
lick Mooretown?"
"I hope so. But you'd better go to bed now."
"Me? Go to bed? Wha' for?"
"Well, it's getting late, and some one might come along. You'd better
go."
"That's a' right. I'm goin'. You're a' right, Ham'ton. You're a' right.
You're sport!"
And, rather unsteady on his legs, poor, foolish Glen went away, much to
Dick's relief.
"I don't much care for friends, such as he is," thought Dick, as he got
into bed.
In his generousness it never occurred to him that Glen had cultivated
his acquaintance merely that he might borrow money from him.
Dick was awakened by the clear, sweet notes of the bugle sounding
reveille. He and Paul jumped out of bed, and were soon in their
uniforms. Then they got their room in order for police inspection,
which, on some days, was made while they were at breakfast. This was one
of those occasions.
"There, I guess they can't find any fault with that," observed Dick, as
he and his roommate, putting the finishing touches to their apartment,
descended to form in line to march to the mess hall.
Dick was leaving the table, to attend chapel, when Cadet Captain Naylor,
who was in charge of the police inspection, tapped him on the shoulder.
"Hamilton, report to Major Rockford," he said curtly.
"To Major Rockford? What for?"
"Room out of order."
"Room out of order?"
Dick knew that he and Paul had left their apartment in perfect trim.
But Captain Naylor did not answer, and Dick, with a heavy heart, started
for the commandant's office. It was the first time he had been made to
report for a breach of discipline of this sort.