Dick Prescott's First Year at West Point Part 25

Prescott and Anstey were still members of the guard, and therefore absent.

"Mr. Holmes, I wish to speak with you," announced Mr. Haldane, of the yearling cla.s.s.

"Will you come in, sir?"

Haldane stepped just inside the tent, standing severely erect and gazing coldly at the plebe.

"Mr. Butler demands a fight with you, mister, and as early as possible."

There was no mention of possible apology. Evidently Mr. Butler considered the affair one that could be remedied only by blows.

"Mr. Haldane, I don't wish to ask much delay. But the two friends whom I shall want to represent me are on guard duty at present.

May I ask that you see Mr. Prescott?"

"Very good," acknowledged Mr. Haldane, and left the tent.

"Now, I'm in for it," muttered Greg ruefully. "And the queer part of it is that I have to fight for a thing that I never did. But I'm not going to make any denials now, unless d.i.c.k advises it."

It was evening, after the cadets had returned from supper, when Mr. Haldane appeared and asked for Prescott. The two stepped outside together, walking a little distance away to make the necessary arrangements.

d.i.c.k was already in possession of the few facts that Greg had to tell him. d.i.c.k had advised against denying the prank, for the present, anyway.

"It would look like playing the baby act," Prescott had explained to his chum, and in this view Anstey agreed.

Mr. Haldane and d.i.c.k came to a speedy understanding. The fight was to take place the next morning, at the first peep of daylight.

Promptly, however, the affair became noised about through camp.

Butler was a considerably larger man than Greg, and looked in every way more powerful. Cadet Corporal At.w.a.ter, who was president of the yearling cla.s.s, went to see Mr. Butler promptly.

"At least, Butler, if you insist that the fight must be fought, let the sc.r.a.p committee choose one of our cla.s.s who is down nearer to the plebe's size," urged Mr. At.w.a.ter.

"Under ordinary conditions, old fellow, I'd be tickled to do it,"

replied Mr. Butler. "But, in a trick of this kind, I couldn't get any satisfaction out of anyone else hammering the b.j. beast who put up such a tumble for me."

"I'm thinking the sc.r.a.p committee may interfere with your plans,"

rejoined At.w.a.ter, shaking his head. "We don't want fighting to degenerate into the appearance of bullying oppression of beasts."

"I'll have to abide by the decision of the sc.r.a.p committee, of course," admitted Butler. "But I hope the fellows won't interfere."

Cadet Corporal At.w.a.ter promptly called the sc.r.a.p committee together. Many newspaper writers, through ignorance, have condemned the existence of a sc.r.a.p committee at West Point, claiming that it foments fights. The truth is that the sc.r.a.p committee is a court of honor, formed for adjusting nice questions, and for preventing unfair fighting.

Cadet Butler was summoned before the sc.r.a.p committee, and stated his case. The decision of the sc.r.a.p committee was that a fight would have to take place, but that Mr. Holmes was privileged to request the sc.r.a.p committee to name a yearling who was Holmes's own size and weight, this subst.i.tute to fight in Mr.

Butler's place at once.

Cadet Corporal At.w.a.ter thereupon promptly called at Greg's tent, and stated the decision to the three tentmates.

"Mr. Prescott will answer for me, sir," Greg replied respectfully.

"Sir," d.i.c.k answered, "we appreciate the decision of the sc.r.a.p committee. We recognize that we are being used with the utmost fairness, and that all Mr. Holmes's rights are being safeguarded in the most honorable manner. Yet, sir, this fight has a peculiar basis. More so than with most fights, I believe, sir, this is a purely personal one. Mr. Holmes, therefore, is prepared, sir, to give personal satisfaction. While the odds are very distinctly against him, he wishes to show that he can take his trouncing like a cadet and a gentleman. So, sir, with renewed a.s.surances of our thanks and appreciation, Mr. Holmes is ready to meet Mr. Butler at daylight."

"That is well spoken, sir," replied Mr. At.w.a.ter. "I appreciate the grit of Mr. Holmes's decision."

The president of the yearling cla.s.s went back to acquaint Mr.

Butler with the outcome.

Until close of taps Greg practiced various blows, feints and dodges in foot work.

"You can't win, Greg," advised Anstey. "Of course that's out of the question. But, before you have to lose the count you want to make sure of giving Mr. Butler enough facial decorations to keep him satisfied for some time to come."

At taps the three tentmates lay down on their mattresses, d.i.c.k with an alarm clock close to his hand.

Cadets Prescott and Anstey were soon sound asleep. Greg, however, lay awake for a long time, thinking--thinking.

"If I had some of d.i.c.k's lightning speed, and his capacity for sailing in like a cyclonic fury," thought Greg. "Whew, but I wish I had always given more attention to boxing than I have done.

I will after this."

Finally, Greg dozed off. The next he knew was when a brief, metallic "br-r-r-r?" sounded in the tent. In another instant d.i.c.k had the clock and was smothering the noise. Greg Holmes leaped up.

It was the morning of his fight!

CHAPTER XV

GREG OVERHEARS A PRETTY GIRL'S TRIBUTE

In the tent it was still dark. It was at the f.a.g-end of the night; the time which, as military commanders know, most tries men's bravery.

The latter part of the night had been cool. Now, in the brief s.p.a.ce before dawn the air was positively chilly.

Greg s.h.i.+vered.

Perhaps it was the chill of the air. It is also extremely likely that Greg Holmes dreaded the conflict that was about to come off with big Butler.

Be that as it may, Cadet Holmes went on briskly with his dressing.

The bravest man is he who, though afraid, goes straight ahead to the goal of battle despite his fears.

Greg was more sensitive about blows than was his chum. Until he got into the heat of action Cadet Holmes dreaded the very idea of giving or taking a blow. There are many soldiers like this; but when they get into action they are the bravest of the brave.

d.i.c.k and Anstey were also getting themselves swiftly in readiness.

To d.i.c.k, veteran of three West Point fights, the greatest cause for regret seemed to lie in being robbed of some of their much-needed sleep.

In almost no time, so it seemed, three cadets fully attired in uniform, stole cautiously from the tent, slipping down the company street.

d.i.c.k carried Greg's fighting clothes. Cadet Anstey carried a bucket in which lay a sponge.