ACROSS THE RIVER
The Fourth of July was looked forward to by all the cadets, the plebes
no less than the upper classmen. To all it meant a day when most of the
duties were suspended, and to the “plebes” it marked the time when some
of them, for the first time, would be chosen to go on guard. Not all
the plebes would be selected for this, but Tom learned that he and Sam
would be. Harry and Chad had to wait a while for the coveted honor.
On the morning of Independence Day, following an old-time custom, the
West Point band marched through the streets of tents at reveille. After
this all duties were suspended for the day. A patriotic concert was
given in the morning, with the firing of a national salute at noon, and
then came an extra good dinner served in honor of the occasion.
Few and far between were the privileges accorded the plebes, those most
lowly of the West Pointers. But in some manner, on this Independence
Day, unusual permission was given to the lowest division of cadets to
go, with certain restrictions, where they pleased in the afternoon,
provided they were back by a certain hour.
“Say, this hits me just about right!” exclaimed Sam to Tom, as the two
came back to their tent after dinner. “What do you say that we get a
boat and go across the river to Garrison and feel as if we could call
our souls our own for a while.”
“I’m with you, if it’ll be allowed,” said Tom. “Sure it’ll be allowed!”
his chum asserted. “We’ll get Harry and Chad, hire a boat, and have a
real lark for once.”
“Go as far as you like,” laughed Tom, “only I haven’t got much cash.”
“We don’t need much. I have plenty, as it happens--just by luck
more than anything else,” he added quickly. For he was the son of a
wealthy broker, and had much spending money. However, a “plebe” has
little chance to spend money, so Tom was no worse off than any of his
companions. In fact, in spite of what is said about the democracy of
many colleges, it is only at West Point that the absolute lack of money
makes no difference at all. Money is really not given a consideration.
It is comradeship, worth, and brains that count.
Never since he had arrived had Tom, even for a moment, been made to
feel that he was looked down on because of his poverty. And he had no
doubt but that his lack of spending money was well known to all his
companions.
“We’ll have a bang-up good time!” went on Sam. “All the ice cream and
lemonade we want for once!”
Both he and Tom were very mild in their desire for pleasures, as were
Harry and Chad. The two latter eagerly welcomed the chance to get away
for a while from the daily grind, and the necessary permission having
been secured, they went to hire the boat to row across the Hudson.
As yet Tom had had little opportunity to look at the many points of
interest around West Point, with its Revolutionary associations, and
the part it played in the treason of Arnold. He made up his mind that
some day he would take the time to visit all these spots and see those
which history had made famous.
The four chums started off together, bent on having a good time.
Money rattled in the pockets of Sam, at least. As a matter of fact,
cadets are not supposed to have any cash. Things they need are charged
against their monthly salary, and should they desire a picture taken,
or wish to buy some candy, they have to submit a permit credit for the
necessary amount. Thus the real need of money is done away with. But
of course every cadet is more or less surreptitiously supplied by his
family, so that occasionally a bit of “boodle” may be purchased, that
being the cadet term for all contraband eatables.
Our friends were not the only ones who went to the river for a row that
pleasant Fourth of July. But only a few, including Tom and his three
chums, went to Garrison.
How they enjoyed the delights of doing, in a measure, as they pleased,
without having to march along as stiff as ramrods, without having some
corporal yell “more yet” in their ears, meaning thereby to straighten
up more yet, or draw in their chins more yet--how they enjoyed the
delights of this freedom may easily be imagined.
They laughed and joked, made fun of each other and their fellow cadets,
talked as familiarly as they liked of their superior officers, from the
“Supe,” as the superintendent of the Academy and the highest official
is known, down to the “Com,” or commandant of cadets.
It was all pure joy and delight--at least for a time.
Reaching Garrison the boys tied up their boat and made their way
through the streets of the town. They met several other cadets--upper
classmen, but the latter took no notice of the “plebes” nor did the
latter dare so much as look at the “superior beings.” Such has custom
decreed.
“This looks like a good place to go in and have a feed of ice cream,”
suggested Sam, as they passed a place where tables were set in the open
air under some trees and vines growing over a pergola.
“Go to it,” advised Tom. “I’m hot and dry.”
They marched in and gave their orders, noticing as they did so that
the ice cream garden joined one attached to a cafe, where something
stronger than water and grape juice was sold.
Somewhat to the surprise of Tom and his chums they saw several older
cadets in this other summer garden, sitting about tables drinking and
smoking.
“They’re hitting the pace,” murmured Harry.
“Yes, but don’t let them see us looking at them,” advised Tom. “It
won’t do, you know.”
The “plebes” knew their places well.
The four friends were enjoying their cream, and wondering what next
they could do to help pass the day, when Tom, whose back was toward the
cafe garden, heard his name spoken loudly.
“Sit down!” some one exclaimed.
Tom looked around and saw Clarence Hawkesbury at a table where sat some
upper classmen.
Clarence seemed a bit unsteady on his feet. His face was flushed and he
pointed a wavering finger at Tom.
“There he is!” he said. “There’s the fellow who did me out of my trick
at West Point. If it wasn’t for him I’d be with you now--with you, my
friends,” and he waved his hand to include the older cadets.
“Sit down!” some of them advised him. Others laughed. They were all
rather noisy and hilarious.
“I--I’ll fix him,” Clarence continued.
Young Hawkesbury strode over toward Tom’s table.
“He’s coming,” said Sam in a low voice. “Want to duck out?”
“I did not!” exclaimed Tom.
“That’s right--stick! We’re with you!” Chad said.
“I’ll fix him!” Clarence muttered.
“Oh, come on back! Sit down! Don’t be foolish!” his friends advised
him. But Clarence was hot-headed just then. Unsteadily, he strode over
to Tom’s chair. By this time Tom had arisen, for there was a foreboding
look of anger on the face of his enemy.
“There! That’s one I owe you!” Clarence exclaimed. He aimed a blow at
Tom. It only fell lightly, but Tom was not one to take a blow like that
and not reply.
The next instant his fist shot out, met the chin of Clarence squarely
with a resounding crack, and the insulting youth fell backward on the
grass, lying prone.