Dick Prescott's Second Year at West Point Part 17

Laura caught some of the conversation, and turned to d.i.c.k.

"Haven't plebes any rights or privileges?" she asked.

"Oh, yes, indeed," replied Prescott gravely. "A plebe is fed three meals a day, like anyone else. If he gets hurt he has a right to medical and surgical attendance. He is allowed to attend chapel on Sunday, just like an upper cla.s.sman, and he may receive and write letters. But he mustn't b.u.t.t into upper-cla.s.s privileges."

"Poor plebe!" sighed sympathetic Laura.

"Lucky plebe!" amended d.i.c.k.

"Weren't you fearfully glum and homesick last year?

"Some of the time, desperately so."

"Yet you believe it is right to ignore a plebe, and to make him so wretched?"

"The upper cla.s.smen don't make the plebe wretched. The plebe is just on probation while he's in the fourth cla.s.s---that's all.

The plebe is required to prove that he's a man before he's accepted as one."

"It all seems dreadfully hard," contended Laura.

"It is hard, but necessary, if the West Point man is to be graduated as anything but a sn.o.b with an enlarged cranium. Laura, you remember what a fuss the 'Blade' made over me when I won my appointment?

Now, almost every new man come to West Point with some such splurge made about him at home. He reaches here thinking he's one of the smartest fellows in creation. In a good many cases, too, the fellow has been spoiled ever since he was a baby, by being the son of wealthy parents, or by being from a family distinguished in some petty local social circles. The first move here, on the part of the upper cla.s.smen, is to take all of that swelling out of the new man's head. Then, most likely, the new man has never had any home training in being really manly. Here, he must be a man or get out. It takes some training, some probation, some hard knocks and other things to make a man out of the fellow.

He has to be a man, if he's going to be fit to command troops."

Anstey, who had been walking close behind his comrade, added:

"The new man, if he has been spoiled at home, usually comes here with a more or less bad temper. He can't talk ugly here, or double his fists, or give anyone black looks---except with one invariable result."

"What?" asked both girls eagerly.

"He must fight, as soon as the meeting can be arranged," replied Anstey.

"That sounds rather horrible!" shuddered Laura.

"Does it?" asked d.i.c.k dryly. "We're being trained here for fighting men."

"But what do they fight about?" inquired Belle.

"Well, one man, who probably will never be thought of highly again,"

replied Anstey, "spoke slightingly of a girl at the hop last night.

The cadet who heard him didn't even know the girl, but he called the cadet a 'dog' for speaking that way of a woman."

"What happened?" inquired Laura.

"The man who was called a 'dog' was, according to our code, compelled to call his insulter out."

"Are they going to fight?" asked Belle eagerly.

"The 'dog' was whipped at the first streak of daylight this morning,"

the Virginian answered. "That particular 'dog' is now in a special little kennel at the hospital. Hasn't he learned anything? He knows more about practical chivalry than he did last night."

"This talk is getting a bit savage," laughed d.i.c.k. "Let me call your attention to the beauty of the view here."

The view was, indeed, a striking one. The two couples had halted at a rock-strewn point on the walk. The beauty of the woods was all about them.

Through the trees to the east they could see the Hudson, almost at their feet, yet far below them. Looking northward, they saw a n.o.ble sweep of the same grand river, above the bend.

"Come forward a bit" urged Anstey of Belle. "I want to show you a beautiful effect across the river."

As they pa.s.sed on, just out of sight, Greg Holmes came along, talking animatedly with Miss Griffin. At sight of Laura, Greg halted, and the four young people chatted. At last Holmes and Miss Griffin pa.s.sed on to speak to Belle.

"I feel as if I could spend an entire day on this beautiful spot,"

murmured Laura contentedly.

"Let me fix a seat for you," begged d.i.c.k, spreading his handkerchief on a flat rock.

Laura thanked him and sat down. d.i.c.k threw himself on the gra.s.s beside the rock.

Then Laura told him a lot of the home-town news, and they talked over the High School days to their hearts' content.

"I don't know that I've ever seen such a beautiful spot as it is right at this part of the walk," spoke Laura presently, after a few couples had strolled above them. "And such beautiful wild flowers! Look at the honeysuckle up there. I really wish I could get some of that to take back to the hotel. I could press it before it withered."

"It is easily enough obtained," smiled d.i.c.k, rising quickly.

"O-o-o-h! Don't, please!" called Miss Bentley uneasily, for d.i.c.k, after examining the face of the little cliff for footing, had begun to scale up toward the honeysuckle.

"Hold your parasol---open," he directed, looking down with a smile.

In another moment he was tossing down the beautiful blossoms into the open parasol that Miss Bentley held upside down.

"How would you like some of these ferns?" d.i.c.k called down, pulling out a sample by the roots and holding it out to view.

"Oh, if you please!"

Several ferns fell into the upturned parasol. Then d.i.c.k scrambled down, resuming his lounging seat on the gra.s.s, while Laura examined her treasures and chatted.

"What a splendid, thoroughbred girl she has become!" kept running through Prescott's mind.

Every detail, from the tip of her small, dainty boot, peeping out from under the hem of the skirt, up to the beautiful coloring of her face and the purity of her low, white feminine brow d.i.c.k noted in turn. He had never seen Laura look so attractive, not even in her dainty ball finery of the night before. He had never felt so strongly drawn toward her as he did now. He longed to tell her so, and not lightly, either, but with direct, manly force and meaning.

Though Cadet Prescott's face showed none of his temptation, he found himself repeatedly on the dangerous brink of sentimentality.

Since coming to West Point he had seen many charming girls, yet not one who appealed to him as did this dainty one from his own home town and the old, bygone school days.

But d.i.c.k tried to hold himself back. He had, yet, nothing to offer the woman whom he should tell of his love. He was by no means certain that he would finally graduate from the Military Academy. Without a place in life, what had he to offer? Would it be fair or honorable to seek to capture the love of this girl when his own future was yet so uncertain?

Yet caution and prudence seemed more likely to fly away every time he glanced at this dear girl. In desperation d.i.c.k rose quickly.

"Laura," he said softly, "if we remain here all afternoon there is a lot that we shall fail to see. Are you for going on with our walk?"