Dick Prescott's Third Year at West Point Part 15

In one of the outer offices on the second floor the cadets left their suit cases.

d.i.c.k, being one of those in the lead, stepped into the adjutant's room, brought his heels together, and in the position of the soldier, saluted.

"Sir, I report my return to duty at the Military Academy."

"Very good, Mr. Prescott. Report to the special officer in charge at the cadet guard house, and receive your a.s.signment to your room. The special officer in charge will give you any further immediate orders that may be necessary."

Again saluting, Prescott wheeled with military precision and left the adjutant's office. As he was going out d.i.c.k was pa.s.sed by Greg coming in.

For a moment Prescott waited outside until Greg had joined him.

"It would be a howling mess if we didn't have a room together this year, old ramrod, wouldn't it?" muttered Cadet Holmes as soon as they were clear of the administration building.

"Oh, that isn't one of our likely troubles," d.i.c.k answered. "We asked for a room together, and second cla.s.smen generally have what we want in that line."

On reporting to the special officer in charge, the two chums found that they had been given quarters together. Moreover, their room was one of the best a.s.signed to second cla.s.sman, and looked out over the plain and parade ground.

"We ought to be jolly happy in here this year, old ramrod," predicted Greg. "Especially as we haven't any fellow like Dodge in the cla.s.s."

"Nor in the whole Military Academy," rejoined Prescott.

"I hope not," murmured Cadet Holmes thoughtfully.

Boys at boarding school would have needed at least the rest of the day to get themselves to rights. Trained to soldierly habits, our two cadets had quickly dropped the furlough life. Citizen clothes, in dress-suit cases, were deposited at the cadet store, and the two cadets, back in "spooniest" white duck trousers and gray fatigue blouses, were soon speeding along the roads that led across the plain to where the other three cla.s.ses were having their last day of summer encampment.

"Greetings, old ramrod!" called a low but pleasant voice, as First Cla.s.sman Brayton hurried up, grasping d.i.c.k's hand. Then Greg came in for a hearty shake. Brayton, who had been a cadet corporal when the two boys from Gridley were plebes, now wore the imposing chevrons of a cadet captain.

"My, but I'm glad to see you two idlers return to a fair measure of work," laughed another voice, and Spurlock, whom d.i.c.k, as a plebe, had thrashed, pushed his right hand into the ceremonies.

Spurlock, too, was a cadet captain. Other first cla.s.smen crowded in for these returning furlough men were popular throughout the upper cla.s.ses.

"May a wee, small voice make itself heard?"

d.i.c.k and Greg half wheeled to meet another comer. Little Briggs, a trifle less plump and correspondingly longer, stood before them, grinning almost sheepishly.

"Hullo, Briggsy!" cried Prescott, extending his hand, which the third cla.s.sman took with unusual warmth.

"Being no longer a plebe, I enjoy the great pleasure able to address an upper cla.s.sman before I'm addressed," went on Briggs.

"That's so, Briggsy," affirmed Greg.

Before going off on their furlough both had been compelled to regard Briggs as an unfortunate plebe, with whom it was desirable to have as little to do as possible. Then it had been "Mr. Briggs"; now it was "Briggsy"; that much had the round little fellow gained by stepping up from the fourth cla.s.s to the third.

"Have you found any b.j. beasts among the new plebes, Briggsy!"

d.i.c.k wanted to know.

"Plenty of 'em," responded Briggs with enthusiasm.

"Any that were b.j.-er than Mr. Briggs?" inquired Greg.

A shade annoyance crossed the new yearling's face.

"I never was b.j., was I?" he murmured.

"Think!" returned d.i.c.k dryly. "However, you're Briggs, now, with all my heart---no longer 'mister.'"

"We've had a busy, busy summer," murmured Briggs, "licking the new beasts into shape."

Greg laughed heartily at memory of some of the hazing stunts through which he had once helped to rush Briggs.

Furlong, Griffin and Dobbs, of the second cla.s.s, hurried over to greet Prescott and Holmes.

"Where's Anstey?" d.i.c.k inquired.

"Not back yet, I'm sure," replied Briggs.

"Oh, well, he'll be back before the day's over," d.i.c.k went on confidently. "That youth from Virginia is much too good a soldier to fail to report on time."

Soon after the instruction parties of the first, third and fourth cla.s.ses came marching back into camp. It seemed, indeed, like old times, to see the fellows all rus.h.i.+ng off to their tents to clean up and change uniforms before the dinner call sounded.

Then the call for dinner formation came. d.i.c.k and Greg fell in, in their old company, and marched away at the old, swinging soldier tread.

Most of the afternoon the returned furlough men spent in their new rooms. During that afternoon Anstey pounced in upon them. The Virginian said little, as usual, but the length and fervor of the handclasp that he gave d.i.c.k and Greg was enough.

With evening came the color-line entertainment. d.i.c.k and Anstey walked on the outskirts of the throng of visitors.

Cadet Holmes, having discovered that the especial girl to whom he was at present betrothed was not at West Point, played the casual gallant for a fair cousin of Second Cla.s.sman McDermott.

The night went out in a blaze of color, illumination and fireworks just before taps. In the morning the cadet battalion marched back into barracks, and on the morning after that the daily grind began in the grim old academic building.

Cadets Prescott and Holmes were thus fairly started on their third year at West Point. There was a tremendous grind ahead of them, the very grind was becoming vastly easier, two years of the hard life at West Point taught them how to study.

CHAPTER X

THE SCHEME OF THE TURNBACK

"I must be getting back to my room," murmured Anstey. "I haven't had a demerit so far this year, and I don't want to begin."

"If you must go, all right," replied d.i.c.k, though he added, with undoubted heartiness:

"Whether in or out of proper hours, Anstey, your visits are always too short."

"Thank you, old man," replied the Virginian gratefully.

The time had worn along into October. During the first month of academic work, neither d.i.c.k nor Greg had stood as high in their cla.s.s as they had wished. This is often the case with new second cla.s.smen, who have just returned from all the allurements and excitements of their furloughs.