WHAT MARK OVERHEARD.
"Now, captain, there are no two ways about it, this business has got to
stop, and stop right where it is."
The speaker was Colonel Harvey, superintendent of the West Point
Military Academy. He was sitting in the guardhouse tent of the camp and
talking to Captain Quincey.
"Yes," he repeated, slapping his leg for emphasis, "it's got to stop."
"I quite agree with you, colonel," responded the other, deprecatingly.
"Quite. But the only question is to find out the offenders."
"If the offenders are not found out," cried the other, "I shall punish
the whole class until they confess. Discipline shall not be laughed at
while I am in command of this academy. And that is just exactly what
that matter amounts to."
"It certainly does seem," admitted the other, "that the yearling class
has such an idea in mind."
"Never since I have been here has a class of yearlings dared to
celebrate their release from plebehood by such a set of lawless acts. It
began the very first night that the plebes entered camp. I do not know
what had been going on before that, but the yearlings had evidently
become entirely reckless of consequences, and careless of discovery.
They woke the camp by a series of outrageous noises; one of them fired
off a gun, I believe."
"Lieutenant Allen," put in the other, "told me that he made an
investigation on the spot and could find nothing suspicious."
"The yearlings had probably seen to it that he wouldn't. Then night
before last Lieutenant Allen, who was again on duty, reported to me
personally that he was awakened about midnight by a shout, and going
outside of his tent found that about half the cadets had been out of bed
and over in Fort Clinton, probably hazing some one. They were all
rushing back to camp; he says that it was so dark he could recognize no
one."
"It is perfectly outrageous!" exclaimed the commandant.
"It has got to be stopped, too," vowed the other. "That incident of the
gun last night capped the climax. I have heard of the cadets playing
that prank before, loading one of the guns and firing it at night. But
this time they did it for the evident purpose of breaking up the
entertainment, and moreover, they fired three so as to make people think
it was an alarm of fire. I think myself that was carrying the matter a
trifle too far. And as I said, I propose to see that it is punished."
The above was meant to be private. Neither the superintendent nor the
commandant meant that their conversation should reach any one but
themselves. There was one other auditor, however, and it was Mark.
He was a sentry and his beat lay by the tent. As he paced up and down
every word that was said was audible to him.
Early that same morning, after having been spruced up and polished by
his friends, he had turned out and received an elaborate set of
instructions from a yearling corporal. Now he was putting them into
effect during his two hours' turn "on guard."
One of his instructions had been silence. Yet he was only human--and as
the angry remarks of the high and mighty Colonel Harvey reached his ears
it must be confessed that between chuckles and grins he was far from
silent indeed. And a few minutes later when he was relieved from duty
till his next turn, he rushed off with unconcealed excitement to his
tent.
There were three seated therein; and Mark greeted them with a burst of
long-repressed merriment.
"Hello, fellows!" he cried. "Oh, say, I've got the greatest news of the
century!"
"What's up?" they inquired eagerly.
"I thought I'd die laughing," responded Mark. "You know all the tricks
we've been playing on the yearlings? Well, I just overheard the
superintendent talking to the commandant of cadets and he's blamed it
all on the yearlings."
"What?"
"Yes, I heard it. And he may punish them. You see, it's always the
yearlings who have played pranks before. The plebes have never dared.
And so the superintendent doesn't think of blaming us. Isn't that fine?
And, oh, say! won't the yearlings be mad!"
The Parson arose solemnly to his feet.
"Yea, by Zeus," said he. "Gentlemen, I propose three cheers for the
Banded Seven."
They were given with a will--and in a whisper.
"Wow!" roared Texas. "An' to think that the ole man--Colonel Harvey, if
you please--went an' blamed the firin' o' them guns on the yearlin's!
Whoop! Say, didn't it come out great? It scared the place most blue; an'
that coward, Bull Harris, the feller that wanted to lick Mark when he
was tied to a tree, had his ole speech busted up in the middle, too.
Whoop!"
"I think," laughed Mark, "I shall have to go around and carry this news
to Grace Fuller."
That remark started Texas on another speech no less vehement.
"I tell you, sah, she's a treasure!" he vowed. "Jes' think of a girl
that had sense enough to think up that air scheme fo' firin' the gun an'
nerve enough to offer to do it, too. An' she's jined with us to bust
them ole yearlings. Whoop! It's all on account o' Mark, though."
"Yea, by Zeus," put in the Parson, gravely. "As I have said before, our
friend is much smitten, and she likewise. I do not blame her, since he
saved her life."
A rattle of drums interrupted the conversation just then, summoning the
plebes to drill. Mark alone had an hour of leisure, he having been on
guard duty, and during that hour having secured a permit, he set out for
the hotel in search for the object of all their talk.
Grace Fuller was sitting on the piazza as he approached. She was dressed
in white and the color just seemed to set off the brightness and beauty
of her complexion. She greeted her friend with one of her pleasant
smiles that seemed to make every one near her feel happy.
"Come up and sit down," she said. "I've been waiting for you all
morning. I'm just dying to have some one to talk to about our adventure
last night."
Mark ascended the steps with alacrity and took a seat. And for the next
half hour the two talked about nothing else but their glorious triumph,
and the way they had fooled everybody, and how mad the commandant was,
and how puzzled the cadets.
"I suppose you noticed," said the girl, "that George was about two
minutes late? Well, it seems there were two people sitting on one of the
guns, and he didn't know what to do. He waited and waited, and finally
crept up and lit the fuse and ran. The gun went off while those two were
sitting on it."
There was a hearty laugh over this rather ludicrous picture.
And then a few moment's silence, during which the girl gazed
thoughtfully into space.
"I've got something important to tell you, by the way," she said,
suddenly. "Last night the cadets all thought one of themselves had
played the joke. Well, it seems that they've found out since."
"They have! How do you know?"
"I was talking to Corporal Jasper this morning. Jasper's a mighty nice
boy, only he thinks he's a man. All the yearlings are that way, so
pompous and self-conscious! I think plebes are delicious for a change. I
told Mr. Jasper that and he didn't like it a bit. Anyhow, they must have
inquired among themselves and found out that nobody in their class had
anything to do with it. For the 'corporal'--ahem!--was pretty sure you
were the guilty one, and he said the class was mad as hops about it."
"That's good," laughed Mark, rubbing his hands gleefully. "Perhaps we'll
have some fun now."
"You will. That's just the point. I don't know that I ought to tell you
this, but I didn't promise Mr. Jasper I wouldn't, and I suppose my
duties as a member of the Seven are paramount to all others."
"Yes," responded Mark, "we'll expel you if you play us false. But don't
keep me in suspense. What's all this about?"
"I like to get you excited," laughed the girl, teasingly. "I think I'll
hold off a while so as to be sure you're interested, so as to make you
realize the importance of what I have to say. For you must know that
this is a really important plot that I've discovered, a plot that
will----"
"I think it is going to rain," remarked the cadet, gazing off dreamily
into space. "I hope it will not, because it is liable to damage the corn
crop, the farmers say that----"
"I'll give up," laughed the girl. "I'll tell you right away. You are to
be on sentry duty to-night, aren't you?"
"Yes," said Mark, "I am. I wouldn't be here now if I were not."
"And your post is No. 3, isn't it?"
"Yes! How did you know?"
"All this is what my small boy friend the corporal told me. You see that
my information comes right from headquarters. I suppose you know that
Post No. 3 runs along Fort Clinton ditch."
"But what's that got to do with the plot?" cried Mark.
"Everything. The plot is to 'dump' you, as the slang has it."
"Dump me?"
"Yes; take away your gun and roll you head over heels into the mud."
"Oh!" responded Mark, thoughtfully, "I see. Take my gun away and roll me
head over heels into the mud. Well, well!"
There was a silence for a few moments after that during which Mark
tapped the chair reflectively.
"Are you going to let them do it?" inquired Grace at last.
"From what you know of me," inquired he, "do you suppose I will?"
"Hardly."
"And I won't, either. I think the yearlings that try it will have some
fun. I only hope there are enough of them."
"There will be," said the girl. "There'll be three."
"I'm very glad you told me," said Mark, "very. I'm beginning to perceive
that our ally will be a very serviceable ally indeed."
"She will be faithful anyway," said the girl. "The Daughters of the
Revolution always are. She has a debt of gratitude to pay to the chief
rebel which she will not very soon forget; and she hopes he will not,
either."
Whereupon Mark bowed and arose to take his leave.
"I must get back to camp," he explained, "to tell the Seven about this
new plan. We shall find a way to circumvent it, I think; we always do.
And I'll promise you that the yearlings who 'dump' me will have a very
lively evening of it. Good-by."
And Mark left.
Now it must be explained that the plebes had lately been given guns.
The instruction in marching, halting, etc., which they had gotten in
barracks was supplemented by all sorts of evolutions, and by drill in
the manual of arms.
This latter of course necessitated guns; and great was the joy of the
ambitious and warlike plebe on the momentous day that "guns" were given
out. The guns were regulation army muskets, heavy beyond imagination. So
the plebe soon wished he hadn't wished for them. Besides drilling with
them, which he found harder work than digging trenches, he had to clean
them daily; and cleaning a gun under the watchful eye of a merciless
yearling proved to be a matter of weeping and gnashing of teeth. It had
to be done; for he had a number on his gun, so that he couldn't steal
his neighbor's well-cleaned one; and if his own wasn't clean he got
into trouble at the very next inspection.
Besides the three drills a day, there were other duties galore. There
was policing twice a day, "policing" meaning the sweeping clean of the
acre or two of ground within the limits of Camp McPherson. Then also
there was "guard-mounting."
Guard-mounting is the daily ceremony of placing the sentries about the
camp; the cadets who go on duty then remain until the following morning.
This ceremony has already been described within the pages of this
series; it will have much to do with our present story.
The plebes of course were not put on guard until they had been fairly
well trained in other duties. They had to know how to march, halt,
salute, present arms, etc. Also they had to be accoutered in their dress
uniforms, which were issued about this time.
Mark Mallory had been notified to report for guard duty that morning,
greatly to the joy of his friends, the Seven, who had rubbed and
polished him till he shone. He had "fallen in" at the summons and
received a long and appalling list of instructions from his corporal.
Then he had been put on Post No. 3 for his first tour of duty.
The sentries about the camp march for two hours, and then have four
hours off duty, thus having eight hours "on" in the twenty. During this
time they speak to no one, except to challenge parties who cross their
beats. This last duty is where the yearlings have all the fun with the
new plebe.
"Deviling" sentries is an old, old amusement at West Point. The plebe
goes on duty, solemn and anxious, awed to silence and gravity by the
sternness of his superiors. He is proud of his important office and
thoroughly resolved to do his duty, come what may, and to die in the
last ditch. He seizes his gun resolutely; feels of the bayonet point
valiantly; puts on his sternest and most forbidding look; strides forth
with a step that is bold and unwavering. And the yearlings "don't do a
thing" to him.
What they did to Mark and his friends will be described later on.