A TRAP FOR MALLORY.
“It’s settled now, is it?”
The speaker was Mark again. He was standing in just the same position
as when we left him for the brief glance at Lieutenant Allen. And he
was addressing the same six plebes as previously, their weighty
discussion being now about over.
“We’ve agreed,” he said, “as I understand it, to stop cutting up
monkey shines for a while. We’re going to stay in camp and devote our
nights to sleeping.”
“Except,” put in Texas, by way of reminder.
“Of course,” assented Mark. “Except, as we said, something
extraordinary should happen. There’s no use making any resolves that
we won’t keep. If we should find, for instance, that Bull and his
crowd were giving another party――――”
“Wow!” cried Texas, excited at the very mention of such a possibility.
“Why, of course, we should have to stop it,” laughed Mark. “But that
is something not liable to happen. I don’t see any reason why we
shouldn’t stay in camp and amuse ourselves in legitimate ways for a
while.”
“Such as walloping Bull,” suggested Dewey, whereat the ex-cowboy
smacked his lips.
“Bull is a goin’ to git walloped pretty soon,” observed the latter,
“ef he don’t stop his tomfoolery.”
“Bull has no idea of doing that,” said Mark. “His enmity is of too
long standing for that. And there goes the drum, by the way.”
Bull Harris had tried one trick more, a trick the most contemptible of
them all. The reader has of course been discerning enough to guess the
authorship of that anonymous note. If he has not he has only to read a
short way further and see the new method by which Bull proposed to
achieve his villainous desire.
About the same hour that the plebes were discussing their new
resolution certain other cadets, four in number, were also holding a
council. They were yearlings, all of them well known to us.
They were very much excited over something just then.
“Did he get it?” Vance was eagerly inquiring.
“He did,” said Bull. “And he read it, too”.
“Did you see him?”
“Yes. I watched him from the tent across the way.”
“And was he mad at all?”
“Mad! I guess. By George! he was red as a lobster!”
“Do you suppose he’ll do anything about it now?”
Bull sneered as he responded.
“Do you suppose I was such a fool as to fix it that way? Not much!
He’s going to wait to get his proof to-night――that is, if he’s got any
sense at all.”
“What kind of proof will he get?”
“You’re worse than a catechism, Vance,” chuckled Bull.
“He, he!” chimed in Baby. “A catechism! Pretty good! See that, Merry?
A catechism asks questions, you know――――”
“Oh, shut up!” snapped Vance. “You ought to be minding your own
business! See here, Bull, I want to know how you’re going to manage
this. What’s the use of being so secret about it? How’s Allen going to
catch Mallory to-night?”
“He’s going to find him out of camp,” answered Bull.
“But how do you know Mallory’ll go?”
“I’ll fix that!” laughed Bull. “I’ll tell you about it. But here comes
Allen now. Wait till after inspection.”
The four precious scamps scattered to their respective tents at that
and there was a brief cessation of the plotting while every one
attended to business. Pretty soon, however, the wheels began to turn
again and the little drama to hurry on.
It was after the ceremony of guard mounting and inspection had both
gone by. The plebes who were so unfortunate as to be assigned to the
duty of policing lined up for work. The rest of the corps was at
liberty to roam the woods as they pleased after that until dinner
time. And then it was that things began to happen again.
Our friends, as it chanced, were curious and eager to see what
happened to the remainder of the feast left behind them so hurriedly
last night. It had occurred to them that it might not be a bad idea to
clear away the _débris_, in case Allen should chance to stroll over
that way.
Accordingly they set out through the woods, all of them together. They
did not reach their destination, however. They heard a voice behind
them calling:
“Mr. Mallory! Oh, Mr. Mallory!”
To their amazement, when they faced about they found none other than
our worthy friend Vance following them. It must be something unusual
to make their deadly enemy call after them in that way, and so they
waited in puzzled surprise.
Evidently Vance had not come to propose a treaty of peace, for there
was the usual sneer upon his curling lip, and his sallow face was as
ugly as usual in consequence. He strode up with a kind of careless
insolence and without saying another word placed himself squarely in
front of Mark and stared in his face.
“What is it?” inquired the latter quietly.
Vance answered nothing just long enough to make a rude silence; then
he was satisfied to begin.
“Mr. Mallory,” said he, “I’ve something to say to you. I want to get
it done in a hurry, too, because my reputation would be injured if I
were seen talking to plebes.”
Vance was finely sarcastic as he said that.
Mark responded nothing, but some one behind him ventured a retort.
“Betcher life, b’gee!” observed that young person. “Some one might
think you were learning a little decency.”
Vance started to answer to that, but Mark checked him.
“If you’ve got anything to say,” he commanded, sternly, “say it!”
And for some reason Merry thought it best to obey.
“I’ve come from Mr. Harris,” he began. “Mr. Harris wishes me to say
that he is sick and tired of your nonsense――――”
“I don’t doubt it,” smiled Mark, and Dewey came in with a “Bully,
b’gee!”
“Mr. Harris says,” continued Vance, angrily, “that he proposes to put
a stop to your insolence at once. Do you understand that? He has asked
me to be his second, and he intends to give you the worst thrashing
you ever got in your life――――”
“Whoop!”
“By Zeus!”
“Bless my soul!”
The exclamations which resulted from Vance’s unexpected announcement
fairly shook the woods. In an instant the yearling found himself
surrounded by an eager, delighted crowd of lads, rubbing their hands
gleefully and all talking at once with excitement. Truly this was a
delicious turn of affairs! Bull driven to fight! And coward though he
was! Gee whiz!
“Won’t I do instead o’ Mark?” cried Texas, who was already dancing
about and twitching his fingers furiously.
“When is Bull anxious to have this fight take place?” Mark inquired as
soon as he was able to get the rest quiet enough for Vance to hear
him.
“To-night,” answered Vance.
“But why put it off till to-night?”
“Mr. Harris has his own reasons,” was the yearling’s stately reply.
“I reckon he has!” growled Texas. “He wants to git us out o’ camp so’s
he can raise another yell an’ git us caught. Do you think I’m such an
idiot as that, you white-faced ole coyote you?”
“Take it easy, Texas,” laughed Mark. “This is my quarrel. But how
about that objection, Mr. Vance? I don’t want to walk into any trap,
you know, and I know that Bull Harris is afraid of me.”
“If you are coward enough to refuse his challenge,” snarled Vance,
“say so and don’t try to make up excuses! Mr. Harris is not afraid of
you, and if he cannot give you the thrashing you deserve for your
contemptible tricks, by jingo! I don’t mind saying that I will. Do you
understand that, confound you? And not only you, Mallory, but that
crazy idiot of a Texan, too――――”
“Wow! Whoop! You――――”
Five members of the Banded Seven sat on Texas just then. And Vance
went on with his address to Mark.
The reader will, of course, perceive that the yearling was playing a
part――and playing it well. The angrier he got Mark the more apt his
plot would be to succeed. He knew that Mark was too honorable to
strike him now, whatever his insults.
“That bluff about suspecting us is pretty hollow,” he continued. “You
don’t need to go away from the camp. If you weren’t too much of blamed
coward and stuff you’d not offer the excuse. You can meet us just
beyond the sentry line and go with us. And if there’s any yelling done
we’ll be caught as well as you. Do you see? If you’re afraid of a
crowd’s pitching in let that fool of a Texas bring his guns. You bring
some, too. We aren’t afraid of the whole seven of you!”
“Very bold indeed,” laughed Mark, for once. “What time shall we meet?”
“Eleven o’clock.”
“And where shall we go?”
“Anywhere you say. Make it the scene of our banquet.”
“Our banquet, you mean,” observed Mark, slyly. “We ate it.
However――――”
“Will you come? Or are you going to play the coward as usual?”
“I’ll come,” said Mark, simply. “And meanwhile you go on about your
business.”
This last sharp command rather took Vance by surprise; it was so in
contrast with Mark’s previous calm and cool manner. It showed him that
he was really mad, after all. And Vance, as he turned and strode away,
was all aglow with triumph.
“We’ve got him!” he chuckled. “It’s all over now.”