A SURPRISE FOR MURRAY.
Gus Murray went straight to his tent when the group broke up. He hastily
dusted off his clothes and looked at himself in the glass to make sure
that nothing was out of place. Then he took up his gun from the rack and
hurried out to "fall in."
A moment later the order was given, "'Tention company!" and after roll
call the battalion wheeled and marched out upon the parade ground.
The ceremony of dress parade has been described in these pages before.
The solemn cadet adjutant formed the parade and then turned it over to
his superior. The gayly-dressed band marched down the line and took its
station. A few moments later the battalion was in the midst of its
evolutions.
It was not very long before they halted again, down toward the southern
end of the plain, to go through the manual of arms. It was then that Gus
Murray received a shock.
The cadets had been marching with their guns at a "carry." Gus had held
his that way ever since he picked it up, and then suddenly the
lieutenant in command gave the order:
"Present--arms!"
In a "carry" the soldier holds his gun in the right hand, with thumb and
first finger around the trigger guard. In coming to "present" he swings
it up in front of him and seizes the stock in the left hand, at the same
time letting go with the right and reversing his grip.
The cadet lines work like a perfect machine in that drill. Every gun
swings up at the same instant, every hand moves in unison, so that the
sound of the many motions is but one. This time, however, there was a
break, and the cause of it was our dear friend Gus.
Gus got through the first part of the motion all right. On the second
part he got "stuck"--in more senses than one. When he went to let go
with his right hand--he couldn't!
At first he could hardly understand what was happening. He pulled and
tugged with all his might. But it did no good; his hand was fast. And in
an instant the horrible truth flashed over him--Mallory--he had polished
the gun with glue!
Every spectator on the grounds was staring at Gus. As for him, he was
still tugging and wrestling, blushing, and gasping with rage. Finally he
saw that his efforts were useless, and he gave it up in despair; he
stood silent and helpless, gazing into space.
Lieutenant Ross was the name of tac in command, and he was noted for
being a crank. He gave no more orders, of course, but stood and stared
at the offending cadet in horror and indignation, while the cadets, who
did not dare to look, but who knew that something was "up," waited and
wondered.
How long this suspense and torture would last no one could tell; the tac
broke in at last.
"Mr. Murray!" he demanded. "What is the matter?"
"My gun!" stammered Murray. "I--I--why--that is----"
"Mr. Murray, leave the ranks!"
Blushing scarlet, the yearling obeyed, conscious of the fact that
hundreds of eyes were upon him. He strode furiously down the line and
once clear, set out on a run for camp, almost ready to cry with
vexation. He reached his tent, rushed in, tore off his glove, and hurled
his musket into the corner. And then he stood in the middle of his tent
and clinched his fists until his nails cut the palms of his hands.
"By Heaven!" he cried, "I'll be revenged on that plebe if I have to kill
him to do it!"
He stayed in his tent, nursing his wrath and resentment, until the
battalion marched back to camp. And he refused to come out then; his
classmates who inquired as to what was the matter received angry replies
for their pains. And when the corps marched down to supper Murray still
sat where he was. He didn't want any supper.
He was in just the mood to welcome a visitor who came then. The visitor
was Murray's chum and crony, Bull Harris.
"Hello, old man," said he, pushing aside the tent flap. "What's up?"
"Go to blazes!" responded Murray, by way of answer.
"Come, come," said Bull, pleasantly. "You don't want to get mad with me,
Gus. Tell me what's wrong."
"It's that confounded plebe!" snapped Murray.
"I thought so," said Bull. "Well, that's what my news is about. I've got
a plot."
And the other's sullen glare gave place to a look of delight in an
instant. He leaped to his feet with an exclamation of joy.
"By George, I knew it!" he cried. "Quick! quick! Out with it! Nothing's
too desperate for me to-night."
"That's good," chuckled Bull. "Very good. Come, let us go and take a
walk. This is a long story; and no one must overhear it, either."
Such is the effect of bad motives upon men. Those two precious rascals
stooped instinctively as they hurried down the company street and
dodged out of camp. Bull led his company down through "Flirtation Walk"
and out to the far end of it. Here they scrambled down the hillside
until they were in a lonely, deserted glen almost at the river's edge.
It was already growing dark with the shadows of the evening. And here
Bull stopped and took a seat.
"I hope this is quiet enough for you," said Murray.
"I had an especial reason for bringing you here!" responded Bull. "All
I've got to tell you about happened here. Do you know, old man, I jumped
into the river off that high bank last night."
"What!" gasped the other. "For Heaven's sake, why?"
"That's in the story," answered Harris. "I'll begin at the beginning.
Listen. You remember how I told you a a while ago when that plebe
Mallory first came here, how Mary Adams and I had a quarrel and that
fool came along and knocked me down."
"You never told me what you were doing," said Murray.
"Never mind. I was a fool to try it, that way. Anyhow, she's hated me
ever since. And oh, how she has struggled to get that plebe. Murray, I'm
smarter than you think. I've been watching this business night and day,
waiting for my chance. And now it's come. I found that plebe and Mary
on this very spot just before taps last night."
"What doing?" gasped Murray.
Bull told the particulars.
"And, by George, I'll be hanged if she didn't end it by flinging herself
head first over that bank!" he concluded.
"What!" gasped Murray.
"Yes, sir. And then I saw my chance. Oh, it was a bonanza for me, Gus!
Mallory was lame, you know, and he hesitated. I rushed past him and
saved her life. Throwing in some heroic flourishes, so's to have the
right effect upon her. I carried her out, and upbraided him as a coward.
He was lame, I knew, and couldn't do anything if he wanted to. And it
made her hate him all the more."
"How did it turn out?"
"Splendidly. He went back to camp, and I took her all the way home. And
you can bet I fixed it all right with her on the way. I made up for what
she was mad about before; and I talked about Mallory and that other girl
until she was wild. And, Gus, we've got her!"
"Got her for what?"
"Mallory! She's our tool, man; we can do just what we please. She'll do
anything on earth for revenge. I almost think she'd kill him."
"You don't mean," gasped Gus, "that she's going to swear he pushed her
into the river?"
"She wanted to," said Bull. "Oh, Murray, you can't imagine how simply
desperate that girl was! She'd simply thrown herself at Mallory's feet,
and he'd kicked her away. At least that was the way it seemed to her,
and you can bet I didn't try to change her view. And she was crying with
rage all the way home. Her face was simply scarlet, and she was
trembling like a leaf. I was honestly afraid of her. She vowed she'd
swear to anything I said if she could only ruin him, and to get that
Grace Fuller away from him. She said she'd swear to it and stick to it
that he tried to murder her. She was even mad because I wouldn't let
her."
"Why didn't you?" cried the other.
"In the first place, I doubt if the superintendent would believe her.
There have been several plots like that tried, but he has too much faith
in that fool of a plebe. Then, too, I doubt if the girl's rage'll last
that long. We must use it while it does. All we want to do is to get
that plebe dismissed."
"That's all!" exclaimed Murray. "But in Heaven's name, how?"
"Didn't I tell you I had a plot?"
"Yes, but what? and when?"
"To-night!" cried Bull. "To-night! And I want you to help us."
Murray sprang up in excitement and joy. Bull hushed his exclamations,
and after glancing cautiously about him to make sure that no one was
near in that now black and shadowy glade, went on in a low, muttering
tone:
"It's very simple," he whispered. "It's because it's so simple it's sure
to work. It won't leave Mallory the ghost of a chance. I'm just as sure,
man, sure as I stand on this spot of ground, that Mallory will be
court-martialed in a week."
"What is it?" cried Murray.
"Listen. Mary's going to write him a letter to-night, send it to him
about midnight, asking him to come to her. Then----"
"But will he come?"
"Certainly. We can make it strong. She will. She can say she's dying,
anything to make sure. He'll go. She lives beyond cadet limits. Some of
us'll be there, catch him, tie him--anything, I don't care. And I know
the girl don't. I think she'd tear his eyes out. Anyhow, we'll fix him
there, beyond limits, and then back to camp we go, make some infernal
racket and have the tac out in no time. Then there'll be an inspection,
and Mallory'll be 'hived' absent after taps. They'll ask him next
morning where he's been, and he'll tell."
"He may lie."
"He won't. He couldn't. I know him too well. And he'll be
court-martialed, and there you are!"
And Gus Murray leaped up with a cry of joy. He seized his companion by
the hand.
"That's it!" he cried. "That's it! By Heaven, it'll do him. And if
there's any blame to bear that fool of a girl shall bear it."