MARK'S IDEA.
The yearling corporal who did the inspecting had done his criticising
and gone his way, leaving four of the seven in their tent--Mark, Texas,
the Parson and Sleepy--who, being the tallest, had been assigned to
Company A. And the four sat down to await the signal to "fall in" for
drill.
"I reckon, Mark," said Texas, meditatively surveying his new uniform in
the looking-glass. "I reckon that we fellows kin say that hazing's most
over now."
"Assuredly!" said the Parson, gravely, "for indeed we have completely
broken the spirit of the enemy, and he knows not which way to turn. I
think that, in words of the song of Miriam, we may say:
"'Sing, for the sword of the tyrant is broken!
His chariots and horsemen are rent in twain.'
"Yea, by Zeus!"
The Parson said this with his usual classic solemnity. Mark smiled to
himself as he sat down upon the locker and gazed at his friends.
"I've got something to tell you fellows," said he. "I think now's about
as good a time as any. I haven't said anything about it to the crowd
yet. When I do they'll have their eyes opened, and realize that if we're
going to subdue the yearlings, we've got to start right at it all over
again. We've scarcely begun yet."
The three others looked at him in surprise; Texas rubbed his hands
gleefully, seeing that Mark's statement, if true, meant lots more fun
for the future.
"You remember last night," Mark continued, "about midnight, how the
Parson shouted out in his sleep and woke the whole camp?"
"Yes," added Texas, "and scared me to death. I thought I was down home
and the ole place was being run in by rustlers or somethin'."
"You met me at the door of the tent," Mark went on. "I didn't tell you
where I'd been; I'll tell you now. Last night a dozen or two of the
yearlings took me out of camp--they surprised me, and held me so that I
couldn't move. They tied me to a tree, and were just on the point of
beating me."
"What!"
The three were staring at Mark in unutterable amazement.
"Yes," said Mark. "They told me I'd either have to promise to be a
milk-and-water plebe after this or else be licked until I would. And
Bull Harris took a big rope and----"
"Did he hit ye?" cried Texas, springing to his feet excitedly. "Wow!
I'll go out an' I'll----"
"Sit down!" said Mark. "He didn't hit me, for the Parson yelled just
then and scared 'em all back to camp. And you needn't tackle Bull
anyhow, for I'm going to do that myself pretty soon. The point just now
is that the yearlings haven't given up. They're still fighting."
"I didn't know there were so many cowards in the place!" muttered Texas.
"They're desperate," said Mark. "They've got to do something. Now we'll
watch out for such surprises the next time, and meanwhile we'll show
them that we're determined not to stop."
And Mark saw by the faces of the other three that that was just what
they wanted. Texas especially was twitching his fingers nervously and
looking as if he were wishing for some yearling to tackle right then and
there.
"I tell you what we'll do, Mark," he broke out, suddenly. "We'll tie
ourselves together an' sleep that way, an' then if they take one they'll
have to take all."
"That's quite an idea," said the other, laughing. "But the main point
now is just this: We're to set out with only one idea in our heads to
think of; perhaps it might be well to offer a prize to the fellow who
thinks of the best scheme. We want to keep those cadets fairly on the
jump from the start."
"Bully!" cried Texas.
"And it seems to me, moreover," continued the leader, "that we make a
big mistake if we let this day pass without doing something."
"Yea, by Zeus!" vowed the Parson, his solemn face glowing with interest.
"For this day is the day of all days in the calendar of Freedom. This
day is the day when our immortal colonies did vow and declare that the
dragon of tyranny they would trample beneath their feet. This day is the
day when first the eagle screamed, when humanity cast off its fetters
and stood in the light of God's truth. This day is the glorious Fourth
of July!"
The Parson had arisen to his feet, the better to illustrate the casting
off of the fetters, and his long black hair was waving wildly and his
long white arms yet more so. Boston and Boston "liberty" were dangerous
topics with him; he got more excited over them than he did when he found
his immortal cyathophylloid coral "in a sandstone of Tertiary origin."
"Yea, by Zeus!" he continued. "Such are the auspices, the hallowed
recollections of this immortal moment that I verily believe no
revolution can fail on it. I say that if ever we strike boldly, we do it
to-day. And I, as a citizen of Boston, pledge my aid to any plan."
"Yaas. An' we got a half holiday to-day, tew."
This rather prosaic peroration to the Parson's speech came from one
corner, where Sleepy sat lazily regarding the scene. That was the first
hint that the "farmer" had offered, and it had corresponding weight. The
four shook hands on it then and there, that by the time dinner was over
they would have a brand new and startling plan to work for the
yearlings' edification. The signal to fall in for drill found them still
pledging themselves to that.
Mark said nothing more to any one upon the subject; he left his friends
to think for themselves, and he, when he got a chance, started out
likewise on his "own hook." In the first place, it was necessary to find
out just how the yearlings meant to spend that half-holiday afternoon;
having found that, it would then be time to think up a plan for spoiling
the fun.
There was a member of the plebe class who had been a plebe the year
before, that is, who had failed on examinations and had not been
advanced. Naturally, he knew all the yearlings, and, having been through
camp once, knew also what would be apt to happen on the Fourth of July.
Mark himself knew nothing about it, for no one thought it necessary to
tell plebes about such things; and so to this "hold-over" Mark went to
learn.
That gentleman, in response to some diplomatic interrogation, emitted
the information that there was nothing "on." That a ball game had been
intended, but prevented at the last moment. That probably most of the
cadets would go walking, or amuse themselves any way--some of them do a
little hazing. That it was a pleasant custom to make the plebes dress up
in masquerade and give a parade or something. And that finally there was
to be an entertainment in the evening.
What sort? Well, it was dignified and patriotic. There were programmes
issued--not given to plebes, of course. Would Mallory like to see one?
Perhaps he could get one, would see after drill, etc., etc. "Much
obliged. Good-morning."
The affable young gentleman did manage to get Mallory a programme. He
gave it to him just before dinner. "Thank you." "Oh, not at all, only
too glad to oblige you," etc. And Mark rushed into the tent and eagerly
read the handsomely printed pasteboard:
United States Military Academy.
July 4th, 8.30 P. M.
PROGRAMME.
Overture.
Prayer.
Music.
Reading of The Declaration of Independence.
Cadet George T. Fischer, Pennsylvania.
Music.
Oration.
Cadet Edmund S. Harris----
Mark read not another word; he stared at the paper in amazement and
incredulity, rapidly changing to glee. Harris! Bull Harris delivering an
oration! Mark turned and faced his companions, feeling about ready to
burst with hilarity.
"Listen here, fellows!" he cried. "Here's a chance, a chance of a
lifetime! Oh, say! Bull's going to make a speech! Gee whiz! We'll----"
"Didn't you fellows know about that?" put in a voice in the doorway, as
Dewey's face appeared there. "I heard the yearlings talking about it.
They say Bull's a fine orator, that he's been working at an elegant
speech for months. And, b'gee, he means to bring down the house."
Mark's face was simply a picture of merriment at that.
"Fellows," he said, as soon as he could manage to get breath to say
anything at all. "Fellows, I'll go you just one bargain more."
"What is it?" cried the others.
"It's very simple. It's just that we spoil that beautiful speech of Bull
Harris', if we have to bust to do it."
And the seven cried "Done!" in one breath.