Dick Prescotts's Fourth Year at West Point Part 39

"Laura! You love me?"

"Why, of course, d.i.c.k. What has ailed your eyes and your reasoning powers?"

With a glad cry, Prescott gathered his betrothed in his arms, claiming a lover's privilege.

Then out of an inner pocket he drew a little box, drew out a circlet of gold in which a solitaire glistened, and slipped the ring over the finger set apart for the purpose of wearing such pledges.

"And how soon, Laura---sweetheart?" he demanded eagerly.

"Now, as to that, you must act like a creature of reason," Laura laughingly insisted. "You are not yet in the Army. At first, after you do receive your commission, you must be saving and careful.

It needs furniture and all those things, you see, d.i.c.k, dearest, to form the background of a home. We must wait a little while---but what sweet waiting it will be!"

"Won't it, though!" demanded d.i.c.k with fervor. "Laura, it seems to me that I must be dreaming. I can scarcely realize my great good fortune."

"Nor can I," replied Laura softly. "You have always been my boy knight, d.i.c.k."

As they stepped inside and approached their nearest friends, Belle murmured in Greg's ear:

"Look at the electric glow that comes from the third finger of Laura's left hand. Now, do you comprehend, b.o.o.by, what a fatal mistake you would have made, had I allowed you to tag them around to the cliff?"

"Well, I'm jiggered!" gasped Cadet Holmes. "Which means that I'm petrified with delight."

"Get practical, then," chided Belle. "Take me forward to them, and we'll have the happiness of being the first to congratulate the newest arrivals in paradise!"

Two minutes later, the leader of the orchestra swung his baton.

As the music pealed forth, d.i.c.k Prescott knew, for the first time in his life, the full meaning of the dance in Cullum Hall.

There were many other newly betrothed couples on the floor that happy night of the graduation ball. The air was fragrant with flowers, but there was more---the atmosphere of new-found happiness on all sides.

Outside, in the shadow of the moonless night, a stoop-shouldered figure prowled in the near vicinity of Cullum Hall. This was Jordan, intent on guessing when would be the most favorable moment for sending in the message that should call Prescott out to his doom.

One of the watchmen, a soldier, in the quartermaster's department, belted, and with a revolver hanging therefrom in its holster, pa.s.sed by and noted Jordan.

"Are you waiting for anyone, sir?" asked the watchman, halting a moment, though only in mild curiosity.

"I'm going to send a message in, after the music stops, for my cousin," replied Jordan, who knew that he must give some account of himself.

"Your cousin? A cadet?" asked the watchman.

"Oh, yes. Mr. Atterbury, of the first cla.s.s," responded Jordan, giving the name of his former roommate at a venture.

"Very good, sir," replied the watchman, and pa.s.sed on.

Mr. Atterbury, however, at that very moment, chanced to be standing on the further side of a tree not far distant, and with him were two other first cla.s.smen.

"Who is that fellow?" queried Atterbury in a low whisper. "I've seen him around here before this, and his voice sounds mighty familiar."

The pa.s.sing watchman heard the question, so he answered: "He says he is your cousin, sir!"

"He is not my cousin," replied Atterbury with strange sternness.

"And, since the fellow is here in disguise, it ought to be our business to ask him some questions. Come on, fellows!"

Atterbury strode out of the shadow, followed just a second later by "Durry" and "Doug."

The prowler's first instinct was to run, but he dare not; that would proclaim guilt.

"See here, sir," demanded Atterbury, striding straight up to the stoop-shouldered, bewhiskered one, "your name is Jordan, isn't it?"

"No!" lied the wretch, in a voice that he strove to disguise.

"Yes, it is," insisted Atterbury. "Rooming with you nearly four years, I can't be fooled with any suddenly pickled voice. Jordan, what are you doing here in disguise?"

"I don't know that my presence here is any of your business,"

growled the ex-cadet.

"Yes; it is," insisted Atterbury. "And you'll give us an account, too, or we'll lay hold of you and turn you over to some one official."

At that threat Jordan turned to bolt. As he did so, three cadets sprang after him. At the third or fourth bound they had hold of him and bore him, fighting, to the earth.

Even now Jordan used his splendid physique and strength in a determined, bitter struggle.

But "Durry" helped turn the fellow over, face down, and then all three sat on their catch.

"Doug," however, felt something hard. Leaping up, he made a quick search, then drew from Jordan's hip pocket a length of lead pipe wrapped in red flannel.

"Ye G.o.ds of war," gasped Dougla.s.s, "what sort of weapon is this for a former gentleman to carry?"

"Let me up," pleaded Jordan, "and I'll make a quick hike!"

"Don't you let him up, fellows," warned Dougla.s.s. "Now, whom did Jordan seek with an implement like this? There could be but one of our men---Prescott."

"Have you anything to say, Jordan?" demanded Atterbury.

"Not a blessed word," growled Jordan, no longer attempting to disguise his voice.

"Then we have," returned "Doug."

"But you two fellows hold him until I come back."

Dougla.s.s ran over to the cliff, then, with a mighty throw, hurled the bar of lead out into the Hudson, far below. Then he darted back.

"Now, fellows," muttered Dougla.s.s in a low voice, "I'd like mighty well to turn this scoundrel over. But we don't want to put such a foul besmirchment on the cla.s.s name, if we can avoid it, the night before graduation. Jordan, if we let you go, will you hike, and never stop hiking until you're miles and miles away from West Point?"

"Yes; on my honor," protested the other eagerly.

"On your---bos.h.!.+" retorted "Doug" impatiently. "Don't spring such strange oaths on us, fellow. Let him."

"Now, Jordan, start moving, and keep it up!" Then the trio, after watching the rascal out of sight, went inside, and Dougla.s.s, at the first opportunity, warned d.i.c.k of what had happened outside in the summer darkness.