LIEUTENANT ALGY'S INSPIRATION
LIEUTENANT ALGY FERRERS, the picture of dejection, sat staring across
his rather tiny parlor in bachelor quarters at smiling Lieutenant
Prescott.
"I thought the Army was a place for gentlemen," murmured Algy aghast.
"At last accounts it was, and I believe still is," replied the West
Pointer, with a smile.
"But consider that beastly schedule of the day's work that you've been
explaining to me!"
"What's wrong with it?" asked Lieutenant Prescott patiently.
"What's first--what did you call it?"
"First call to reveille, at 5.50 in the morning?"
"Yes; what an utterly impossible time for any gentleman to be out of
bed. Unless," added Algy with a sudden bright thought, "he stays up
until then, and goes to bed after the beastly row is over."
"That would hardly do, I'm afraid," Lieutenant Prescott laughed softly.
"You see, the day is full of duties. Now, sharp at six the march----"
"March? At six in the morning?" gasped Algy Ferrers, his despair
increasing by leaps and bounds. "Man alive, I wouldn't feel like
crawling--at that time!"
"The term has confused you," replied Prescott. "It's the musician of the
guard--the bugler--who plays the march. It's a strain that is played,
the first note beginning just as the reveille gun is fired, at the
minute of six in the morning. Then, just five minutes later reveille
itself is blown."
"All that racket will wake me up mornings," complained Algy sadly.
"It ought to, for it's an officer's business to be up by that time."
"Good heavens!" groaned Algy. "Say, 'pon my word, I'll hate to have any
soldiers see me when I'm looking as seedy as I'll look at that time of
the day."
"You won't see them immediately," Prescott replied.
"Don't I have to go to my men as soon as I'm up?"
"No; officers don't go down to barracks to see their men rise. Now,
listen. Reveille sounds at 6.05, with assembly and roll-call right
afterward. There's a very brief athletic drill, followed by recall from
the drill at 6.15 o'clock. At 6.20 mess call for breakfast is sounded.
Right after breakfast comes police of quarters and premises. 'Police' is
the Army term for cleaning up and making everything tidy. Then, just at
7 o'clock the bugler of the guard sounds sick call. The first sergeant
of each company makes up the sick report, and a corporal marches the men
out who need the doctor--the 'rain-maker,' we call him in the Army. Now,
with all that happens up to this time the non-commissioned
officers--sergeants and corporals--have to do."
"Then I can sleep a little later, can't I?" proposed Lieutenant Ferrers
hopefully.
"If you do you'll be sure to get yourself in a scrape. You'll be coming
out of your quarters unshaven, or with your uniform put on too hastily.
Colonel North is a true Tartar with any officer who doesn't start the
day looking like bandbox goods. And, my dear fellow, it's no greater
hardship for you to be up early than it is for the enlisted man. Now, at
7.10 in the morning comes first call to drill. Drill assembly goes at
7.20."
"Do I have to be there?"
"You do, unless excused for some very grave reason. Recall from drill
sounds at 8.20."
"That means that drill is over, then?" sighed Algy questioningly.
"Yes. Then, at 8.30, is fatigue call."
"I shall be properly fatigued by that time, no doubt," confessed Algy
wretchedly.
"You'll soon understand what 'fatigue' is in the Army," smiled
Lieutenant Prescott. "It's more work, but work that is done without
arms."
"Without arms? With the feet, then?"
Lieutenant Prescott bit his lip, but answered:
"By arms this time I mean weapons. First call to guard mounting comes at
8.50, and guard mounting assembly at 9. At 10 another drill begins; at
11 the recall sounds, with recall from fatigue at 11.30. Mess call for
enlisted men is at noon, and 1 p. m. fatigue call. Drill call goes again
at 1.50, with drill assembly at 2 o'clock. The time spent at these
drills varies according to the nature of the work and the orders. Recall
from fatigue sounds at 5 o'clock. Parade assembly is at 5.30 at this
time of the year, with retreat and evening gun-fire at 6.10. Then comes
mess call to supper. With that ends, usually, the working day of the
enlisted man. Tattoo sounds at 9 in the evening, with call to quarters
at 10.45, and taps, or lights out, at 11 p. m. Except when on guard or
special duty you're not likely to have to be with your men much after
retreat."
"Oh, I should hope not," exclaimed Algy Ferrers fervently. "By supper
time I can see myself a nervous wreck."
"Oh, you'll get used to it," laughed Prescott. "The rest of us all had
to."
"And at all of those beastly things and jobs you enumerated, Prescott,
I've got to be present and actually do a lot of work?"
"A big lot of work, you'll find."
"And yet they call being an officer in the Army a gentleman's life."
"Yes," replied Prescott, his eyes opening rather wide. "Don't you
consider that one may be a gentleman and yet be industrious?"
"Oh, I reckon so," sighed Algy Ferrers. "But it all seems a beastly
grind."
"Then how did your ever come to think of going into the Army?"
"I didn't," almost flared up Algy. "It was the guv'nor. He forced me
into it. Said he'd cut my allowance off altogether, and leave me out of
his will if I didn't get to work. And he chose the Army for me, and put
the whole thing through. Wasn't it beastly of the guv'nor?"
"I'm not so sure that it was," smiled Lieutenant Prescott. "Of course it
was different with me. My father worked, and had to, or starve. It was
the same with me, which may be why I can look upon the idea of a lot of
work without feeling insulted by fate. But I reckon, Ferrers, that no
man is worth his salt in the world unless he does work."
This was the day after Algy's arrival. Colonel North and Major Silsbee
had not yet put the new young officer actually at work. They had allowed
him this time of grace to get settled in his new quarters, and to talk
over his new duties with young Prescott.
"I can never remember all that long list of things you told me, dear
fellow," complained Algy. "Won't you do me a great, big favor?"
"What?"
"Write down for me that--er--time table you laid down for me."
"No." Lieutenant Prescott's tone was almost abrupt. "I'll repeat it to
you, Ferrers, and you can write it down for yourself. Get a pencil and
paper."
"Give me just time for a cigarette before I take up such exhausting
literary work," begged Algy, reaching for his gold cigarette case. "Have
one, dear fellow?"
"Thank you, Ferrers. I don't smoke."
"Then what do you do with your time?"
"Work!"
"What beastly old rot the Army is!" murmured Algy, lying back in his
easy chair and blowing a cloud of smoke toward the ceiling.
Rap-tap! sounded at the door.
"Come in," called Algy. It was Lieutenant Holmes who entered.
"Howdy-do, Ferrers?" he hailed the new officer. "I heard Prescott was
here and came to find him. You'll pardon me, won't you?"
"Nothing to pardon," murmured Algy.
"Old ramrod," began Lieutenant Holmes, turning to his chum and
addressing him by the old West Point nickname, "I came to see you about
your pet. He seems to be in increasing trouble."
"Who's my pet!" demanded Prescott in surprise.
"Why, Corporal Overton, of your company."
"Corporal Overton is not my pet, and you'll greatly oblige me by not
referring to him again in that fashion, Holmesy," returned the young
lieutenant almost stiffly. "Corporal Overton is a mighty fine young
soldier, and a good soldier never needs to be his officer's pet; he can
stand on his own merits. But what's the trouble with Overton? Is he
still absurdly suspected of relieving that simpleton Green of his
money?"
"Yes; there's a strong drift of suspicion that way among the men of B
Company."
"The idiots!" muttered Prescott impatiently.
"One of my sergeants has just been telling me about Overton's present
standing in the company. B Company men have always liked Overton. In
fact, he has been well liked all through the battalion, but just now
many of the men don't feel sure about the young fellow," continued
Lieutenant Holmes. "Not a man will admit that the case is proved, but a
good many of them don't like the looks of things. Especially are the men
disturbed by the fact of that revolver being in Corporal Overton's bed,
and the fact of his being awake and appearing nervous when the alarm was
given."
"Greg, you don't believe Overton stole that simpleton soldier's cash?"
cried Prescott.
"I don't, and I won't," Lieutenant Holmes replied. "Overton isn't that
type of fellow. He's a soldier all the way through, going and coming,
and the first characteristic of a real soldier is honesty."
"Yet you say so many of the men suspect him?" mused Prescott.
"Not exactly that they suspect him, but that they'd like to have the
whole matter cleared up and see daylight through it."
"From what I know of soldiers," remarked Lieutenant Prescott
thoughtfully, "it looks like a mean mess for Overton. Really, nothing
but long time, or complete vindication, will ever put Overton back where
he'd like to be in the esteem of all his comrades."
"I know it," agreed Holmes. "That's why I'm telling you all this about
one of your own men."
"And I ought to have known it myself," Prescott reproached himself. "I
ought not to have waited to get the first strong news from an officer of
another company."
"Why, I suppose it was easier for me to get this word than it would have
been for you. B Company men are too 'sore' to talk much about it. But C
Company men, as it doesn't affect any of them, just treat the whole
matter as one of ordinary news."
Lieutenant Dick Prescott rose and began to pace the floor. He was deeply
concerned--not so much for Hal Overton's sake as for the general good
name of B Company. Moreover, young Prescott knew that, if any man in his
company were unjustly suspected, it was his duty, as one of the company
officers, to find a way to set the whole matter straight.
"What's all the beastly row about, any way?" queried Lieutenant Algernon
Ferrers.
Holmes explained it briefly.
"So it's all a row about some seven hundred dollars, it is?" asked Algy.
"If you choose to put it that way," replied Lieutenant Holmes.
"Then see here, Prescott, old chap," cried Algy eagerly, "why all this
rotten fuss? Why, I see the way through it as clear as daylight! I'll
set the matter straight in thirty seconds!"