SIX TO THE RESCUE.
Be it said in the first place, for the reader's comfort and relief, that
the figure who lay upon the ground stunned and gasping was not that of
Mark Mallory. Harden saw that as he turned again, and he groaned. The
Parson saw it, too, and uttered a geological and classical exclamation
of satisfaction, completely forgetful of his peril at the present
moment. And as for Mark, he had known it long ago; he had meant that it
should be just so.
The first classmen as they poured in upon the scene, furious and out of
breath, took in the situation in one glance. They saw their friend and
classmate, the mighty Wright, stretched helpless on the turf, and they
knew that Mark Mallory, the hated plebe, had defied them successfully,
had outwitted them, and stood now in all his impudence, his purposes
completely achieved. And their rage rose to bounds beyond the
possibility of description.
But they had him now! Though triumphant, he was in their power, alone
with no soul to help him in all that lonely forest! And like so many
wild animals they leaped upon him.
You have read of the fury of a mob? And you know what a mob may do? It
is far more than any single one of them, any half dozen of them, would
ever dream of doing. This mob had everything to urge them on, nothing to
restrain them. Had not this plebe tormented their very eyes out? Had
they not sworn to punish him within an inch of his life if he dared to
fight with their lieutenant? And was not the lieutenant lying there now,
half dead, calling upon them for vengeance?
One and all they sprang upon him. The leader seized him roughly by the
shoulder, flung him backward; the next moment Mark's arm shot out and
the man went down like a log. That made the crowd still more furious; a
dozen of them reached the bold plebe at once, and then there was the
wildest kind of a time.
Mark could not tell very clearly what happened; he was vaguely conscious
of shouts and imprecations; of flying arms and closely pressing bodies;
of blows and kicks that blinded him, stifled him. He himself was
striking out right and left, and he felt that he was landing, too. He
saw another figure beside him doing likewise, and he knew that the
gallant old Parson was at his side. And after that his head began to
swim; lights danced before his eyes, and his strength began to fail him.
He went down, and that was all he knew.
There was no restraining those wild cadets, though fully half among them
were manly enough to try. The brute passions of the rest were let loose
and there was no stopping them. They still pressed about the two
struggling plebes, a crowd roaring for vengeance and satisfaction. And
they meant that nothing should prevent their having it, either.
Something did, none the less. And it was something startling and
unexpected. The reader will remember that we left the five hot upon the
trail. The five were upon the trail still.
They had followed the crowd down the railroad track. The crowd had hired
a schooner the day before, having learned that Mallory and Wright were
going to attempt to cross the next morning; they had followed in that,
and the five under the leadership of Texas had broken the lock on a
rowboat they found and had pursued the cadets across. They had landed a
few minutes later; they had heard the shouts of the crowd; and now, wild
and reckless with rage at what they saw, they were rushing from the
woods to the rescue.
To the rescue? It bid fair to be a weak attempt, for there were just
five to attempt it, and of the others there may have been fifty. No one
could count them; they were a mob, a wild-eyed, furious mob. But of the
unevenness of the conflict the gallant five never once thought. They
knew that their leader was in peril, and that it was their business to
rescue him. And that was all.
Foremost among them was the wild Texan and he was a sight to put a
hundred in a panic, a sight to rival Hercules and his club. Texas had
snatched an oar from the boat, and as he ran he was brandishing that.
His hair was ruffled, his face was red, and his eyes staring and wild.
From his mouth came a series of yells and whoops that made the forest
echo. And a moment later he struck the crowd of cadets.
How that mighty oar did cut the air! If it had been a broadsword it
could not have swept a clearer furrow. And behind it came the other
four, all armed with clubs, making a V formation that was simply
irresistible.
So long as the cadets were unarmed the fight was very one-sided, indeed,
and the five might have rescued Mark in no time. But quick as a wink one
of the cadets stooped and seized a stick; his example was followed
instantly, and in half a minute the gallant rescuers were confronted
with a score of clubs and assailed by a shower of stones that beat them
back in confusion--stalled!
No, not quite! There was one rescuer left, a resource that Texas alone
had. Texas had received a cut across the face that made him simply
crazy. He dropped the oar, slung his hands around to his hip pockets,
and a moment later with two huge six-shooters opened fire point-blank at
the crowd.
It happened that those revolvers held only "blanks." Mark had insisted
upon that beforehand, for he knew his friend's sudden temper. But that
made no difference to the cadets. When they saw those weapons flash in
the pale moonlight, saw them in the hands of that wild-haired, wild-eyed
figure, heard the deafening reports and saw the powder flash blindingly
in their faces, they turned as one man and fled in terror to the cover
of the woods.
And they left their victims lying on the ground!
Texas was not so mad but that he had some cunning left. He saw his
chance, and shouted to his companions. The four seized the
half-unconscious, sorely-battered pair in their arms, and whirling
suddenly, made a dash for the shore. Texas himself scorned to run. He
gazed about him defiantly, balancing his revolvers in his hands; and
when he saw that the alarmed cadets did not contemplate a sally, he
backed slowly through the woods and rejoined the other plebes.
The cadets had not the nerve to face those revolvers again, at least not
at once. They had a moment later when they discovered to their horror
what the plebes were going to do.
It was a horrible revenge. Instead of going to their own rowboat, the
crowd deliberately marched out upon a little dock where the schooner
lay. They put their charges into that, and then while the big Texan
coolly faced about with his guns, the others seized the two rowboats and
deliberately proceeded to tie them on behind.
They were going to leave the whole class stranded!
A yell of fury, of horror, of fright went up from the crowd! Leave them!
Impossible! It lacked then two hours of reveille. And for them to be
absent meant disgrace, court-martial, dismissal! Wild with alarm the
crowd made a dash for the schooner, leaping into the water, running for
the dock, shouting and yelling. And Texas calmly raised his revolvers,
and stood thus, firm and terrible in the clear moonlight.
Before that figure they quailed an instant; that instant was enough. The
big vessel swung off from the dock, the night breeze filling her sails.
And Texas turned like an antelope and made a leap for the boat.
The crowd saw him land on the stern; they saw the white glistening track
bubble up as the vessel glided away; then in blank horror they turned
and gazed at each other--lost!
Texas meanwhile, soon as he saw the boat clear, had but one thought in
his devoted mind. He made a dash for Mark and staring in horror and
anguish at his white and bloody face, fell to flinging water upon him.
And he gasped with relief when he saw Mark open his eyes.
Mark's body was still stripped, and Texas, even Texas, shuddered as he
saw the bruises upon it. There was one that made the victim cry out as
his friend touched it, and Texas started back in alarm.
"Good heavens!" he cried; "his shoulder is broken."
Mark smiled feebly; and at the same instant a chorus of cries arose from
the despairing cadets on the shore.
"Tell Mallory we'll leave him alone if he'll come back," was one of
them.
"B'gee!" cried Dewey, "did you hear that? What do you say?"
And Mark raised himself with a struggle.
"No, no," he gasped. "Don't! I mean to fight them."
"Fight them! How can you fight with a broken shoulder?"
"I--I won't tell them it's broken!" panted Mark.
"Wow!" roared Texas, wildly. "Ef you don't lick 'em I will! Whoop! An'
as fo' them cowards on the shore, let 'em get fired an' bust!"
"Bully, b'gee!" echoed Dewey.
And the battered old Parson chimed in with a feeble and gasping "Yea, by
Zeus!" while the schooner sailed on in disdainful triumph.
The first class, as it seemed, did not get fired. They ran all the way
to Garrisons, the town opposite the point, and there begged a boat
secretly to cross. But the news when it spread next morning made them
the laughingstock of all creation. And Mark, in the hospital, was the
hero of the whole cadet corps.