A STRANGE ANNOUNCEMENT.
"Hey, fellows! What do you think? Mark Mallory's in disgrace."
"In disgrace!"
"Yes, and he's going to be fired. Whoop!"
The first speaker was Bull Harris. At the moment he was red in the face
and breathless as the result of a long run across the parade ground. At
the end of it he had burst suddenly into the midst of a crowd of his
classmates with the excited exclamation above.
The effect upon them of the startling announcement was electrical. To a
man they had leaped to their feet, with expressions of delight they made
no effort to conceal.
"How do you know it, Bull?" demanded one of the crowd.
"The superintendent has sent for him right in the middle of drill,"
cried Bull.
"What for?"
"I don't know. It's something he's been doing. One of the orderlies told
me he heard the old man say he'd fire him. And that's all I know."
The babel of confusion and excited voices that resulted from this bit of
news lasted without interruption for several minutes.
"It's too good to be true," they vowed. "By George, just as we were
talking about him, wondering how we could get square with the confounded
plebe, for his tricks! And now he's going to be fired."
And then suddenly Bull's voice rose above the excitement again.
"Look! Look!" he cried. "If you don't believe me look and see for
yourselves. There he goes now!"
The cadets stared across the parade ground and then shouted aloud for
joy.
Down on the road by the cavalry plain a single lone figure was walking,
a figure clad in the "plebe" uniform. And the figure was that of
Mallory!
Mark as he walked did not observe the group of cadets who were glaring
at him so angrily. It would not have worried him if he had, for he had
something a good deal more important to occupy his mind just then. He
was racking his brains to think of some plausible reason to account for
his errand at the moment.
He had been, along with the rest of the plebe company, lined up on one
side of the camp for drill. A tactical officer had been rigidly putting
them through the manual of arms, with half a dozen yearling corporals
and file closers aiding him. And then, breathless with running, an
orderly had burst upon the scene.
He had a note in his hand, and he handed it to the "tac." The latter
read it, then read it aloud--again.
"Cadet Mallory will report to the superintendent at once."
That was all; the rest of the class stared and wondered, and Mark
stepped out of the line, handed his gun to the orderly, and strode away
from the scene.
The yearlings, as we have seen, had a good deal clearer notion of why
Mark was wanted than he had himself. To Mark it was an absolute mystery.
He knew no reason on earth why the superintendent should want him, and
he quickened his pace so as to get there and find out the sooner.
Erect and firmly stepping as was the plebe's habit by this time, he
marched down the road toward the academy building, between the parade
ground and the Cavalry Plain. He passed the chapel, and then the
headquarters building, his destination, lay before him. Mark had entered
that building just three times before this. He could not help thinking
of them then.
The first time, he had felt, was the most momentous moment of all his
life. Months of struggling were there crowned with a triumph that had
seemed to leave no more worlds to conquer. For he had entered that
building then to take the oath of allegiance as a duly certified and
admitted "conditional" cadet.
What that had meant to Mark only those who have followed his history can
appreciate. Poor and friendless, he had seen West Point as a heaven, the
object of all his future hopes, an object far away from his home in
Colorado, but one to be struggled for and hoped for none the less. He
had earned the money to come by a sudden stroke of cleverness--one step.
After that he had striven for the appointment, a step far longer and
harder, yet one that must be taken.
The congressman of that Colorado district had held a competitive
examination. Mark had tried, and also his deadly enemy, one Benny
Bartlett, a rather weak, malicious youth, spoiled by the old squire, his
father. Benny had sworn to win, and was desperate when he realized he
couldn't; he had bribed a printer's devil, gotten the examination
papers, and so passed ahead of Mark, who was made alternate. But Mark
had afterward beaten Benny at the West Point examination, where cheating
was impossible, and had thus secured the long coveted cadetship.
While we are talking about him he has gone inside. It would be well to
stop and follow him, for momentous things were destined to result from
that visit, too. It was indeed true, as the yearlings so joyfully
learned, Mark Mallory was in deep and serious danger.
An orderly showed him promptly to the office of Colonel Harvey. Mark
found that gentleman alone in the room, the same room where he had been
received so kindly before. But this time the stern old officer seemed
less cordial. There was a chilly air about it all that made the plebe
feel rather uncomfortable. Colonel Harvey did not speak; he did not even
look up from the paper on which he was writing; and Mark stood by at
attention, waiting respectfully.
The first movement did not come from either of them. Mark strove to keep
his eyes to the front, which was in accordance with orders. But he could
not help glancing about the room a little. And to his surprise he saw a
side door open and another figure enter the room.
Mark did not see that just at the moment the colonel's glance was fixed
upon him steadfastly; he was too busy staring at the stranger. The
stranger was a young fellow with coarse features, evidently a
workingman. He twisted his hat in his hand nervously, obviously ill at
ease. He stared at Mark and at the officer alternately. Mark, who did
not know him from Adam, turned away after the first glance, giving no
more thought to the intruder except to wonder what he was doing in that
office.
When Mark turned his eyes upon Colonel Harvey again he saw then that
the latter was watching him. And a moment later the colonel laid down
his pen and spoke:
"Cadet Mallory," he said sternly, "I wish you to observe this man. Do
you know him?"
Mark stared at the stranger in amazement.
"No, sir," he said. "I never saw him before, to my knowledge."
"Are you sure?"
"Perfectly."
There was a moment's pause after that, and then the superintendent
tapped a bell upon his desk. It was answered at once. The same door
opened again, and two persons entered suddenly. Mark knew them, and he
knew them well. He stared at them incredulously, gasping; and he sprang
back in amazement.
"Benny Bartlett!" he cried. "You here! And the squire!"
It was Benny Bartlett sure enough; Mark knew his sallow deceptive look
too well to be mistaken. And the squire was the same stout and
blustering, self-assertive old man. He banged his cane on the floor as
he heard Mark's exclamation and saw his look of surprise.
"Yes, sir," he cried. "It is the squire. And I observe you start with
guilt when you see him, too."
Mark stared at the two all the harder then. And there was a brief
silence during which every one stared at every one else. Mark thought
he saw the stranger twist his cap yet more nervously.
"Mr. Mallory," began the superintendent at last. "Mr. Mallory, do you
know why these three are here?"
"No, sir," said Mark, with evident emphasis.
"Is this upon your honor as a gentleman?"
"It is," was the answer.
"Humph!" snorted the squire. "Your word of honor isn't worth much!
I----"
"If you please," interrupted Colonel Harvey with dignity, "that question
is for me to settle. Mr.--er--what did you say this man's name was?"
"Nick," put in the squire.
"Nick," said the superintendent, turning toward the strange youth, "will
you please have the goodness to tell again the story which you told to
me."
Nick looked frightened and hesitated.
"Come, come!" cried the squire, impatiently. "Out with it now, and no
lies about it!"
Thus enjoined Nick cleared his throat and began.
"I'm a printer's boy," he said, "and I works for the Roberts in Denver.
I was a-walking along the street one day, I was and up comes this
feller--indicating Mark--and he says, says he to me, 'Your people are
printing the examination papers for Congressman Wheeler, ain't they?'
'Yes,' says I, and then after that a little while he says that he wants
to win them examinations, 'cause there was a feller trying 'em that he
wanted to beat. So he gimme a hundred--that was the next day; he said
he'd earned it in a railroad smash up, or something--and then I got them
papers and gave 'em to him. And that's all I know."
"Very good," commented the squire, tapping his cane with approval. "Very
good! And what did he say about these West Point examinations?"
"He said, says he, 'If I win these here and git the appointment, I ain't
a-going to do nothin' but skin through the others with cribs.'"
"That's right!" cried the squire, triumphantly. "There now! What more do
you want?"
He glanced at the superintendent inquiringly, and the superintendent
gazed at Mark. As for Mark, he was simply too dumfounded to move. He
stood as if glued to the spot and stared in blank consternation from one
to the other.
"Well," said the colonel at last, "what have you to say for yourself?"
Mark was too amazed to say much.
"So that is their plan!" he gasped. "So they seek to rob me of my
cadetship by this--this----"
He stopped then, unable to express his feelings.
"Colonel Harvey," he inquired at last, "may I ask if you believe this
story?"
"I do not see, Mr. Mallory," was the response, "what else I am to
believe. I do not like to accuse these three gentlemen of a plot to ruin
you. And yet--and yet----"
"May I ask a question or two?" inquired Mark, noticing the puzzled and
worried look upon his superior's face.
"Most certainly," was the answer.
"In the first place, if you please, according to this story, if I gave
this man a hundred dollars, why did he tell about it afterward?"
"His conscience troubled him," cried the old squire excitedly. "As yours
would have if you had any. He knew that he had done wrong, robbed my
son, and he came and told me. And I was wild, sir, wild with anger. I
have brought this man on all the way from Colorado, and I propose to see
my son into his rights, if I die for it!"
"Oh!" said Mark. "So you want Benny made a cadet. But tell me how, if I
had the papers, did Benny beat me so badly, anyhow?"
"My son always was brighter than you," sneered the old man.
"And all the examinations weren't from printed papers," chimed in
Benny's crowing voice. "There was spelling, and reading and
writing--that was where I beat you."
"I see," responded Mark. "It is a clever scheme. And I'm told I passed
here because I cheated; how came you to fail?"
"My son was sick at the time," cried Squire Bartlett, "and I can prove
it, too."
Mark smiled incredulously at that; Benny Bartlett nodded his head in
support of his father's assertion.
"Well?" inquired the squire. "Is there anything more you want to know?"
"No," said Mark. "Nothing."
"Satisfied now, are ye?" sneered the other; and then he turned to
Colonel Harvey. "I think that is all, sir," he said. "What more do you
want?"
The colonel stood gazing into space with a troubled look. He did not
know what to say; he did not know what to think. He could not call these
three men conspirators; and yet the handsome, sturdy lad who had done so
much to win his approval, surely he did not look like a thief!
"Mr. Mallory," he inquired at last. "What have you to say to this?"
"Nothing," responded Mark. "Nothing, except to denounce it as an
absolute and unmitigated lie from beginning to end."
"But what proof can you bring?"
"None whatever, except my word."
After that there was no more said for some minutes. The silence was
broken by the superintendent's rising.
"Mr. Mallory," he said, "you may go now. I must think this matter over."
And Mark went out of the door, his brain fairly reeling. He was lost!
lost! West Point, his aim in life, his one and only hope, was going! He
was to be dismissed in disgrace, sent home branded as a criminal! And
all for a lie! An infamous lie!
A few minutes later Benny and the printer's devil, his accomplice, came
out of that same door. But it was with a far different look. Benny was
chuckling with triumph.
"It worked!" he cried. "By Heaven, it worked to perfection! Even the old
man hasn't caught on!"
"Squire Bartlett's as blind as Mallory," laughed the other. "And
Mallory'll be out in a week. Remember, you owe me that hundred to-day."