A SURPRISE FOR THE SEVEN.
Six disconsolate plebes sat on a bench at the extreme northern end of
Professor's Row late that afternoon, gazing unappreciatively at the
magnificent view of the upper Hudson. Those plebes had been cudgeling
their stupid heads ever since dinner time to no purpose.
"Durnation!" growled one of them. "I dunno what we air goin' to do. Mark
won't let us blow up the durnation ole building. He won't let me hold up
the crowd, cuz they'd expel me. He don't want to kidnap Bull, cuz Bull
would tell. I dunno what!"
"B'gee!" added another. "I wish he'd come help us think instead of
chasing around town with girls. He's been with her all afternoon----"
"Here they come now!" interrupted Texas, pointing down the street.
"Yea, by Zeus!" assented the Parson. "And our friend is much smitten
already."
"Who wouldn't be?" laughed Dewey. "Isn't she a beauty, though? B'gee, I
wish he'd bring her over and introduce her."
"Reckon she ain't a-hankerin' after plebes," drawled Sleepy, who, as
usual, had half the bench for his tired form to cover.
This observation put a damper on Dewey's enthusiasm. It was true, and,
besides that, it came from the silent member of the firm.
"She's beautiful, all the same," he vowed, as the two drew nearer still.
"And, b'gee, she seems to be lively, too."
"If I mistake not," put in the Parson, gravely, "our friend is vastly
excited over something."
This last observation seemed to be correct. The two were laughing; in
fact, their faces seemed to express about as much glee as they could
very well express, and once Mark was seen to slap his knee excitedly.
The six were carried away by curiosity, which curiosity changed suddenly
to the wildest alarm. For when the two were just opposite, what must
Mark do but turn and lead the girl over to his friends?
The effect upon the latter was amusing. Chauncey made a wild grab for
his collar to see if it were straight; Sleepy sat up and rubbed his
eyes; the Parson cleared his throat--"ahem!" Indian gave vent to a
startled "Bless my soul!" Dewey exclaimed "b'gee!" and poor Texas turned
pale and trembled in his bold cowboy legs.
A moment later the vision in white was upon them.
"Miss Fuller," said Mark, "allow me to present my friends," etc., etc.
The Parson inclined his head gravely, with dignity becoming the immortal
discoverer of a cyathophylloid coral in a sandstone of Tertiary origin;
Chauncey put on his best Fifth Avenue salute; Indian gasped and hunted
in vain for his hat; the "farmer" swept the ground with his; Dewey
looked all broke up and Texas hid behind everybody.
There was vague uncertainty after that, changing to horror at the next
speech.
"Miss Fuller," said Mark, smiling, "has proclaimed herself an ardent
sympathizer and admirer of the purposes and principles of the Banded
Seven. Miss Fuller desires to be known as a 'Daughter of the
Revolution.' Miss Fuller knows about Bull Harris, and doesn't like him,
and suggests a first-rate method of busting--if you will pardon my
slang, Miss Fuller--to-night's celebration. Miss Fuller likes to hear
cannon go off at night. She offers to procure the powder if we will do
the loading; she even offers to fire it, if we'll allow her. Also,
gentlemen, allow me to propose member number eight of the seven, and
incidentally to suggest that the name Banded Seven be changed and that
in future we go down to posterity as----"
Mark paused one solemn moment, and cleared his throat----
"The Banded Seven and One Angel!"
And after that there was a deep, long, wide, and altogether
comprehensive silence, while the six stared at Mark and his thoroughly
amused friend in incredulity, amazement, alarm, horror--who can say
what?
It was fully a minute before any of them found breath. And then a
perfect torrent of Bah Joves! Durnations! B'gees! Bless my souls! and By
Zeuses! burst out upon the air, to be followed by another silence even
longer and larger than the last.
What on earth had happened! The six couldn't seem to get it through
their heads. Could it be possible that this girl, the belle of West
Point, the beauty over whom half the cadets were wild, the daughter of a
famous judge, was sympathizing with a few, poor, miserable plebes in an
effort to upset West Point? And that she had actually offered to help
them in a trick, the boldness of which was enough to make the boldest
hesitate? Good stars! The world must be coming to an end! No wonder the
amazed plebes gasped and stared, and then stared and gasped, unable to
believe that they stood on the same earth as half a minute previously.
Mark and his companion, who understood their perplexity entirely, and
who seemed to have gotten amazingly in sympathy during a brief
afternoon's conversation, stood and regarded them meanwhile with
considerable amusement.
Well, it must be true! Mark said so, and the girl heard him and seemed
to say "yes" with her laughing blue eyes.
That was the conviction which finally forced itself upon the incredulous
and befuddled six, and with it came a dim, undefined consciousness of
the fact that possibly they were not doing the very politest thing in
the world in staring at their "angel."
First to realize it was Texas, last of all to whom one would have looked
for any species of gallantry.
Texas sprang forward and seized the girl's fair white hand in his own
mighty paw.
"Hi, Miss Fuller!" he cried, "I'm glad to have you join! Whoop!"
Which broke the ice.