Dick Hamilton's Cadet Days; Or, The Handicap of a Millionaire's Son Part 28

d.i.c.k knew he would be welcomed at the homes of any of his friends, and he planned to go to Hamilton Corners and surprise them.

But alas for his hopes! When the last day of school came, and the other cadets made hurried preparations to leave for home, poor d.i.c.k was taken with a heavy cold. The surgeon forbade him leaving his room, as the weather was cold and stormy, and our hero was forced to remain at Kentfield, in charge of the housekeeper and the doctor, while the other cadets joyfully departed to happy firesides.

"Sorry to leave you, old chap," said Paul, sympathetically, "but my folks wouldn't know what to do if I didn't come home over the holidays."

"That's all right," said d.i.c.k, hoa.r.s.ely, but as cheerfully as he could.

"I'll see you after New Year's. Have a good time."

"I will. Hope you get better."

It was a gloomy Christmas for the young millionaire, and, as a fever set in with his cold, he couldn't even enjoy the good things which the kind housekeeper, under orders from Colonel Masterly, provided for the patient.

The academy was a very lonely place indeed, Christmas day, for all the officers and cadets had gone, leaving only the housekeeper, and some of the janitors, including Toots, in charge.

d.i.c.k received some tokens from abroad, sent by his father, and a cheery letter, which he answered in the same strain.

"But it isn't much like Christmas," thought d.i.c.k, as he sat up in bed.

Then a bright thought came to him.

"Can't Toots have dinner up here with me?" he asked Mrs. Fitzpatrick.

"Of course he can," she said. "Maybe it will cheer you up," and she sent for the jolly janitor.

CHAPTER XIX

THE MARKSMAN MEDAL

Toots' advance along the corridor leading to d.i.c.k's room was announced by his rendering of the tune "The Star Spangled Banner," which he ended with a spirited bugle call.

"Did you send for me, Mr. Hamilton?" he asked as he came in.

"I did, Toots," said d.i.c.k. "I thought maybe you would like to have dinner with me here. I'm lonesome, and I suppose you are, too."

"Bless your heart, not exactly lonesome, Mr. Hamilton, but I'm glad to come just the same. You see I'm too busy to be lonesome. I've got lots to do, cleaning up all the rooms against the cadets coming back in a couple of weeks."

"Then maybe you haven't time to spend an hour or so here."

"Oh, I reckon I have. But it's agin the regulations for me to eat here.

I'm supposed to eat with the other servants."

"We'll make our own regulations for the time being," said d.i.c.k. "Here comes Mrs. Fitzpatrick with the grub. I hope you're hungry, for I'm not particularly."

"Well, I can eat a bit," admitted Toots. "I say, though, that is a spread!" he exclaimed, as he saw the good things the housekeeper was bringing into d.i.c.k's room, where she set them on a table.

"Well, it's Christmas," observed d.i.c.k, "though I can't eat much myself.

However, it'll do me good to see you put it away."

"And I can do that same," admitted Toots cheerfully.

d.i.c.k, under the doctor's orders was allowed only a bit of the white meat of the turkey, and none of the "stuffing," so he could not make a very substantial meal, but Toots ate enough for three.

"I don't suppose you got this sort of thing in the army," ventured d.i.c.k, wis.h.i.+ng to have his odd friend talk somewhat of his experiences, for he had learned that Toots had once been janitor at a military post.

"No, indeed," replied Toots. "We did get a little extra at holiday times, but nothing like this."

"How did you come to be at the military post?" asked d.i.c.k.

"Blessed if I know. I was always a sort of a rover, and I suppose I wandered out west. I'm going to join the army some time. I'm a good shot, you know. Did you ever see me shoot?"

"Yes," replied d.i.c.k, trying not to smile, as he thought of how far Toots had come from hitting the target.

"Yes, I'm a good shot," went on the janitor. "But I'm going to improve.

I'll practice on the range this winter at odd times. You're a pretty good shot yourself, ain't you?"

"Fair," admitted d.i.c.k, as he watched Toots put away the roast turkey and the "fixings."

"A-ker-choo!" suddenly sneezed Toots, pulling out his handkerchief.

"Aker-choo-choo! Guess I put too much pepper on my potatoes," he said.

Something fell to the floor, as Toots pulled out his handkerchief. It lay in sight of d.i.c.k, who was propped up in bed.

"What's that?" he asked. "You dropped something."

The man picked it up, and d.i.c.k saw that it was a marksman's bronze medal.

"Let me see that," he said, quickly, and the janitor pa.s.sed it over.

"Why this was given to some soldier, for good shooting," went on our hero, as he tried to decipher the name on it. "Where did you get it, Toots?"

"Blessed if I know, Mr. Hamilton. I've had it a long time. It was given to me by some friend, I expect. I found it the other day in my trunk.

I'd forgotten I had it. But if it's a marksman's badge, I'm going to wear it. I'm a good shot."

d.i.c.k looked more closely at it. Besides the name of some soldier the badge contained the name of the command to which he had belonged, but everything save the letters "mie, Wyo." were obliterated by dents and scratches.

A sudden thought came to d.i.c.k. It was in connection with Toot's half-recognition of the picture of missing Bill Handlee. It was evident that Toots knew something of the captain's son, but he could not straighten out the kink in his memory, and possibly this marksman's badge might be a clue. d.i.c.k hoped so, and he decided to try to learn from what fort or command the medal had been given.

"I wish you'd let me take this for a few days, Toots," he said. "I'll take good care of it."

"All right, Mr. Hamilton, but don't lose it. If it's what you say it is, I'm going to wear it, to show I'm a good shot. Then I won't have to be telling people all the while. They can see it for themselves."

"Can't you recollect where you got it?" asked d.i.c.k again.

Toots shook his head.

"It's like--like the time you asked me about his picture," he said, pointing to the photo on the mantle. "I get all sort of confused in my head. Maybe I always had it. Maybe someone gave it to me when I was janitor at the fort out west."