[Illustration: TOM AND HIS FELLOW RIDERS WOULD RAISE THEIR SABERS HIGH
IN THE AIR AND YELL.
_Tom Taylor at West Point._ _Page 202._]
TOM TAYLOR
AT WEST POINT
Or
The Old Army Officer’s Secret
BY
FRANK V. WEBSTER
AUTHOR OF “ONLY A FARM BOY,” “BOB THE CASTAWAY,” “AIRSHIP
ANDY,” “DARRY, THE LIFE-SAVER,” ETC.
ILLUSTRATED
NEW YORK
CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY
PUBLISHERS
BOOKS FOR BOYS
BY FRANK V. WEBSTER
12mo. Cloth. Illustrated.
ONLY A FARM BOY
TOM, THE TELEPHONE BOY
THE BOY FROM THE RANCH
THE YOUNG TREASURE HUNTER
BOB, THE CASTAWAY
THE YOUNG FIREMEN OF LAKEVILLE
THE NEWSBOY PARTNERS
THE BOY PILOT OF THE LAKES
THE TWO BOY GOLD MINERS
JACK, THE RUNAWAY
COMRADES OF THE SADDLE
THE BOYS OF BELLWOOD SCHOOL
THE HIGH SCHOOL RIVALS
BOB CHESTER’S GRIT
AIRSHIP ANDY
DARRY, THE LIFE SAVER
DICK, THE BANK BOY
BEN HARDY’S FLYING MACHINE
THE BOYS OF THE WIRELESS
HARRY WATSON’S HIGH SCHOOL DAYS
THE BOY SCOUTS OF LENOX
TOM TAYLOR AT WEST POINT
COWBOY DAVE
THE BOYS OF THE BATTLESHIP
JACK OF THE PONY EXPRESS
_Cupples & Leon Co., Publishers, New York_
Copyright, 1915, by
CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY
TOM TAYLOR AT WEST POINT
Printed in U. S. A.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. WONDERFUL NEWS 1
II. THE EXAMINATION 13
III. ANXIOUS DAYS 21
IV. SUCCESS 29
V. AN ATTACK 35
VI. OFF TO WEST POINT 43
VII. GETTING READY 49
VIII. A SLIDE FOR LIFE 60
IX. CAPTAIN HAWKESBURY 69
X. ANTICIPATION 76
XI. A LARK 83
XII. TOM’S REFUSAL 91
XIII. ACROSS THE RIVER 97
XIV. AN EXPLOSION 103
XV. HARD WORK 110
XVI. ON FURLOUGH 118
XVII. A QUARREL 127
XVIII. BACK AT WEST POINT 138
XIX. UNHORSED 146
XX. IN THE HOSPITAL 155
XXI. THE CLUE 164
XXII. IN GARRISON 174
XXIII. DISCOVERED 182
XXIV. RESTITUTION 190
XXV. GRADUATION 199
TOM TAYLOR AT WEST POINT
CHAPTER I
WONDERFUL NEWS
Tom Taylor, a well set up, pleasant-faced lad of about sixteen, came
marching up the path that led from the street to the front door of the
cottage. Tom was whistling a cheerful air; no--one moment--the tune was
cheerful enough, but Tom Taylor was whistling it in anything but a gay
manner.
Something in the way that he trilled out the notes must have impressed
his mother, for she looked up quickly, and out of the open window near
which she was sewing.
“Why, Tom!” she exclaimed, “you’re home early; aren’t you? I hope----”
There was an anxious note in her voice, and an extra trace of worry
showed in her face, already lined with marks of care.
“Yes, I am home a bit early, Mother. I’m taking a sort of vacation you
see. Came home to get you to go for a walk. It’s too soon for supper.
Come on, we’ll walk over to the woods,” and once again Tom tried to
put some gaiety into the tune he was whistling.
Mrs. Taylor shook her head.
“That isn’t the reason you came home so early, Tom,” she said, gently.
“I know something has happened. Tell me!”
“It isn’t anything at all, Mother, really! Come on, we’ll go for a
little walk, and then, when we come back, I’ll help you get supper.
Come along.”
Again Mrs. Taylor shook her head.
“I’d like to come with you, Tom, you know that,” she said, “but I must
finish this dress. Mrs. Leighton wants it to wear to-morrow, and if it
isn’t done I’ll not get paid for it, and you know the interest is soon
due. We must meet that.”
“Yes, I know,” and a frown passed over the lad’s face. “I wonder who
invented interest, anyhow. It always comes at such an inconvenient
time. Well, here’s something toward it, Mother,” and he took from his
pocket a few bills and some change in silver.
“Oh, Tom! To-night isn’t pay night!” his mother exclaimed.
“It was--for me,” he said, and this time he smiled, for he saw a look
of alarm, and almost of fear, come over his mother’s face, and he
wanted to be as reassuring as possible.
“Why, Tom--Tom! if Mr. Blackford paid you, then----”
“Then it’s pretty good evidence, Mother, that I earned the money!”
finished Tom with a laugh. “You don’t often catch Mr. Blackford paying
for something he hasn’t had. I certainly earned this!”
Tom sighed in memory of the long hours of hard work he had given in
exchange for that small amount of money.
“But why should he pay you ahead of time, Tom?”
“Because, Mother, there isn’t going to be any more time for me at Mr.
Blackford’s store--that is not right away. I’m through--paid off, as it
were.”
“Oh, Tom! I hope you didn’t have a quarrel with him!”
“Not in the least, Mother. It was a plain business proposition. He said
he couldn’t afford to hire me after school any more to do some of his
errands, and help straighten out the stock. So he paid me what he owed
me, and here I am.
“I quit an hour earlier, you see, though I didn’t lose anything by it,
and I thought maybe you’d come for a walk.”
“I’d like to, Tom, but really I must finish this dress. Oh, I’m so
sorry Mr. Blackford couldn’t keep you.”
“So am I, Mother, particularly as we need the money. But I think I can
find something else to do. Business is picking up a little. I’m going
to be on the lookout. Something is sure to turn up. And I do hope it
will be something worth while, so I can, by some means or other, get
enough ahead to go to West Point.”
“You haven’t forgotten your ambition I see, Tom,” said his mother, as
she vigorously plied her needle, taking advantage of the last hours of
daylight.
“Forgotten it, Mother? Indeed I haven’t! I never shall. I intend to go
to West Point, and become an army officer.”
Tom straightened himself up as he said this, as though he had heard the
command:
“Attention!”
But the only sound that came to the ears of his mother and himself was
the distant hum and roar of the little city, on the outskirts of which
they lived.
Mrs. Taylor sighed. Tom was folding the bills into a neat little
package, enclosing within the silver coins. It was a small sum, but it
represented much to him and his widowed mother.
“I don’t like to think of you being a soldier, Tom,” said Mrs. Taylor,
as she stopped to thread a needle.
“Well, I guess there isn’t very much danger,” Tom laughed. “There
aren’t, at present, any vacancies from this congressional district so
I understand, and the appointments at large have all been filled. And
even if there was a chance for me to get in, I couldn’t do it I guess.
It takes about a hundred dollars to start with, but, of course, after
that Uncle Sam looks out for you. But I sure would like to go!”
Tom’s eyes sparkled, and again he half unconsciously straightened up,
as stiff as the proverbial ramrod.
“I wish you could have your wish, Tom,” his mother said, softly; “but I
can’t bear to think of war. It is so cruel!”
“Oh, just because I want to go to West Point, and become an army
officer, doesn’t mean there’ll be war, Mother. In fact, war is ceasing
to be the custom. But the best way not to have a war, is to be in the
finest possible shape to meet it if it does come.”
“I can’t bear to think of it, Tom. The shooting--the killing! Oh, it’s
terrible!”
“But the United States Army does a lot of things besides shooting and
killing,” Tom said. “Look at the officers and men--see what they’ve
done in the Panama Canal zone. Why, in spite of the fact that they’re
trained in the arts of war, they have, of late, been using their
special knowledge in the interests of peace. I certainly would give
anything for the chance to go to West Point. But there! No use thinking
about it!”
Tom seemed to blow the matter away as though it were some trifle,
light as air, and he assumed a manner of indifference that he did not
altogether feel.
“Come on, Mother,” he begged, tossing the money into her lap through
the open window. “Take a half-hour off. You’ll be all the better for
it. You haven’t been eating well lately. A walk to the woods will give
you an appetite.”
“I believe I will go with you, Tom,” she said, with sudden decision. “I
can finish this dress after supper, but it must be delivered, and----”
“I’ll take it over,” said the lad. “I haven’t many lessons to-night.”
A little later mother and son were walking across the field that lay
between their cottage and a little patch of wood in the cool and shady
depths of which they were wont often to stroll.
Mrs. Taylor was the widow of Charles Taylor, who was once well-to-do.
He had lost his fortune in unfortunate speculation, however, and
the shock and disappointment of this, coupled with a not too strong
constitution, caused his death when Tom was about twelve years old.
From the wreck of her husband’s estate Mrs. Taylor received a small
income, and she and Tom, moving from the well-appointed house in the
best residential section of the small city of Chester, took up their
abode in a small cottage, once owned by Mr. Taylor, but now mortgaged
to a Mr. Aaron Doolittle, who had, in some unexplained manner, become
possessed of much of Mr. Taylor’s former property.
The crash resulting in the sweeping away of the money, and the death of
her husband, had almost stunned the young widow. But she rallied, and
bravely took up the battle of life.
Mrs. Taylor was an expert needlewoman, and some of her former friends
kept her well supplied with work. She managed, with a small income from
some investments her husband had made before the crash, to keep Tom at
his studies, and, eventually, he went to the high school, where he was
in attendance when our story opens.
It did not take Tom long to realize that he was every day becoming more
and more of an expense to his widowed mother. His clothes never seemed
to wear very well. There were certain books and other materials to buy,
that he might keep up his school work. And his appetite was not a small
one.
He saw the need of more money, and resolved to earn it himself after
school hours. He secured a place in the grocery of Mr. Blackford, and
by delivering orders, helping to keep the stock in order, and doing
the hundred and one things that always can be done about a grocery, he
managed to add a few dollars to the weekly income.
But now, owing, as Mr. Blackford had alleged, to a desire on his part
to save money, he had told Tom his services would no longer be required.
“Though I’ll wager he’s found some one who will do it more cheaply than
I did,” declared Tom. “Well, he won’t get any one to do it any better,
that’s sure. I’m going to see Wendell to-morrow, after school. He may
need a boy in his store.”
“Oh, Tom, they say he’s mean and cruel. No one likes to work for him,”
objected Mrs. Taylor.
“Beggars can’t be choosers,” replied the lad, laughing. “I don’t mind
hard work. I’d have to work hard if I went to West Point.”
His mother smiled. She did wish her fine-looking son could have his
wish, but it seemed out of the question. In silence the two strolled on
through the wood, to the far edge.
There, standing amid the trees, they could look across a narrow valley
to where a railroad embankment wound its way along the shore of a small
river. In the distance could be seen a large bridge, and, crossing the
river on this, the S. & C. V. Railroad entered the village of Preston.
The railway only touched the outskirts of Chester, but the line was
near the center of Preston, which acquired importance from the fact
that the county court house was located there.
“Well, if we had some of the money that was sunk around the piers
of that bridge,” said Tom reflectively, “our worries would be over,
Mother!”
“Yes,” she agreed, as Tom waved his hand toward the railroad structure,
“but there’s no use talking or thinking about that, Tom. It’s past and
gone, and the money has disappeared.”
“It disappeared all right enough,” and Tom’s tone was the least bit
menacing. “But I’m not so sure that it disappeared fairly and honestly.
If it had sunk in a bed of quicksand it couldn’t have vanished any more
completely. But between old Doolittle, the railroad lawyers and some
others--”
“Oh, Tom, please don’t bring up that old dispute!” begged his mother.
“You know it can’t do any good.”
“No, I suppose not,” he admitted. “But it certainly is hard luck to
look at what you think ought to be yours, and know that some one else
is enjoying the benefit of it,” and Tom shook his finger at the big
railroad bridge, as if that structure of steel were, in some way,
responsible for the unpleasant circumstances of his mother and himself.
The railroad bridge, or, rather, one of the ends and the approach, was
located on land that had formed a part of Mr. Taylor’s estate. The land
had always been considered valuable, and when the railroad went through
the value of that property, as well as of other land near it, rose
rapidly.
Then came Mr. Taylor’s death, and his widow, instead of receiving what
she hoped for--a large sum from the sale of the bridge site to the
railway people--received nothing at all. Inquiry developed the fact
that certain creditors of Mr. Taylor’s, including a Mr. Aaron Doolittle
and a Captain Cason Hawkesbury, held a claim on the bridge land, and
they received the money for it from the railroad.
But, as Mrs. Taylor said, that was past and gone, though Tom could not
forget it. There was always resentment in his heart, for he believed
his mother should have received something for her rights. But they were
not able to hire competent lawyers, and the young member of the bar
who wound up the affairs of Mr. Taylor’s estate did not seem to think
there was a chance of getting anything by litigation over the bridge
property.
“We must go back, Tom,” said his mother finally. “I’ve enjoyed the
little walk, and I feel better for it. But I must get that dress done,
and I’m sure you are hungry.”
“Well, I don’t mind admitting that I am,” he said, with a final look at
the bridge, over which, at that moment, an express train was rumbling.
“Going right over our property as if it had a right!” grumbled Tom.
“But they have a right, son,” his mother said gently. “Don’t brood over
that any more.”
Tom might have done so, in spite of her request, but for something that
happened shortly after that. They were walking down the side street
toward their cottage, when a boy with a bundle of papers under his arm,
came along.
“Will you take yours now, Mrs. Taylor, or shall I leave it at the
house?” he asked, touching his cap and smiling.
“I’ll take it,” said Tom. “I forgot the _Banner_ came out to-day.
Wonder if they have a good account of our baseball game.”
The _Banner_ was the weekly paper issued in Chester, and Mrs. Taylor
subscribed to it. Tom took the sheet from the delivery boy, and rapidly
scanned the front page.
“Yes,” he said, “here’s a big account of the game. And here--Say,
Mother! Look here!” he exclaimed, holding the paper up in front
of her, and pointing out a certain item. “There’s going to be a
competitive examination for a West Point cadetship! It’s going to take
place in Preston in two weeks. It’s open to all the lads around here.
Congressman Hutton has an appointment to make, and he’s going to let it
go to the fellow who gets the best standing.
“Say, this is great! Wonderful! Mother, I’m going to have a try for
that! A vacancy has unexpectedly occurred, it says. It’s my chance,
Mother! It’s my chance!”