CHAPTER XV
If there is a happier time in a young fellow's life than cadet furlough, I do not know where to find it. Geordie's home-coming was something there is little room to tell of in our brief story of his cadet days. Fort Reynolds had improved but slightly in the two years of his absence; even the quartermaster had to admit that, and lay the blame on Congress; but Pops had improved very much – very much indeed, as even his erstwhile rival, young Breifogle, now a valued book-keeper in the First National Bank, could not but admit. Mrs. Graham's pride in her stalwart boy, Buddie's glory in his big brother, and the doctor's stubborn Scotch effort not to show his satisfaction were all matters of kindly comment in the garrison. After a few days, during which he was seldom out of his mother's sight or hearing, she kissed him fondly, and bade him get to his mountaineering again, for she knew the boy longed for his gun and the heart of the Rockies. He could have had half of Lane's troop as escort and companions had the wishes of the men been consulted, but on the three or four expeditions Buddie, at least, was ever with him; and after the long day's ride or tramp the boys would spread their blankets under the whispering trees, and, feet to the fire, Bud's chin in his hands, and adoring Pops with all his eyes, there for an hour or more he would coax his cadet brother for story after story of the Point. In August Connell came out and spent ten delicious days with them – the first time he had ever set foot in any garrison; and it was lovely to see how Mrs. Graham rejoiced in her big boy's faithful friend and chum; how Bud admired, yet could not quite understand how or why, either as scholar or sergeant, Connell could or should stand higher than Pops. He pestered both by the hour with questions about their companies, the other sergeants, corporals, etc. He hung to them by day, and bitterly resented having to be separated from them by night. He could not be made to see why he should not go everywhere they went, do everything they did.
Connell, it must be owned, found Bud a good deal of a nuisance at times, and even brother Geordie's patience was sometimes tried. Bud was too big and aggressive now to command sympathy, otherwise there would have been something actually pathetic in his grievance at not being allowed to accompany the two cadets when they attended certain "grown-up" parties to which they were invited in town. The officers and ladies at the post made much of the young fellows; McCrea could not do enough for them; and as for the troopers, the best horses and the hounds were ever at their service, and old Sergeant Feeny delighted their hearts by always insisting on "standing attention" and touching his cap to the two young gentlemen. This he was not at all required to do, as they were only half-way to their commissions, as Geordie blushingly pointed out to him.
"But it's proud I am to salute ye, sir," said the veteran; "and then don't the regulations say a cadet ranks any sergeant in the army? Sure you and Mr. Connell are my supariors in law if ye are my juniors in years and chiverones."
The officers gave a dance one evening, and Pops and Connell, as was perfectly proper, attired themselves in their newest gray coats, with the gleaming chevrons and lozenge of first sergeants, and immaculate white trousers set off by the sash of crimson silk net. The ladies, young and old, declared the cadet uniform far more effective than the army blue; and some of the young matrons who had first seen their future husbands when wearing the cadet gray were quite sentimentally affected at sight of it again. Then there were three or four very pretty girls at the fort, visiting their army home for vacation, and others in town, and all attended the hops; and both Geordie and Connell were thankful they had been so well drilled in dancing. Altogether, they had ten days of bliss they never will forget; and when Connell had to go, everybody at Reynolds saw that Miss Kitty Willet, the major's bonny blue-eyed daughter, was wearing on her bangle bracelet a new bell button that must have come from right over Jim Connell's heart.
And then, all too soon for the loving mother, it was time for Pops to hasten back to the banks of the Hudson, and gird up his loins for the great race of the third year.
"Pops," said McCrea, "you are going back to what I hold to be the hardest of the four years, and going withal to duties which, more than any others in the cadet battalion, call for all the grit there is in a man. A young fellow who does his whole duty as first sergeant must make enemies among the careless, the slouchy, and the stubborn in his company. I hold that no position in the battalion is so calculated to develop all that is soldierly and manly in a cadet as that of first sergeant. There are always upper class men who expect to be treated with consideration, even when they set bad examples; then there are yearlings always trying to be 'reekless' just to excite the envy of the plebes. You'll find it the toughest place you ever had to fill; but go at it with the sole idea of being square and soldierly, and in spite of all they may say or do you'll win the enduring respect of the very men who may buck against you and abuse you in every way. As for popularity, throw all idea of it to the winds; it isn't worth having. Teach them to respect you, and their esteem and affection will certainly follow."
Again and again, on the long way back to the Point, Geordie pondered over what his friend had said, and made up his mind to act accordingly.
"Sergeant-major may sound bigger," said Connell, as the two comrades, reunited on the journey, were having their last night's chat together in the sleeper, "but in point of importance in the corps of cadets it simply isn't in it alongside that of first sergeant. My father can't break himself of the old fashions of the war days. He was 'orderly' sergeant, as they called it in '61, and he takes more stock in my being 'orderly' than my being in the 5's."
One day later and they were again in uniform and on duty, and Pops found himself calmly looking over his company, just seventy strong. The very first names he saw gave him a twinge of premonition – Frazier and Jennings. The latter, found deficient in one of his studies and accorded a re-examination in June, had been turned back to join the new Second Class; and he and Frazier had decided to live together in Company B, taking a third-floor area room in the fourth division, while Geordie, with Ames for his mate, moved in opposite Cadet Captain Bend, who occupied the tower room on the second floor. Everybody was surprised at Jennings's transfer from Company A, where he had served three years, to B, with whose captain and first sergeant both he had had difficulty in the past. Moreover, there was no little comment on his living with Frazier, for the few who are known as "turnbacks" in the corps are usually most tenacious about living with some member of their original class. But Randal, the new first captain, was glad to get so turbulent a spirit as Jennings out of his ranks, and Jennings was of such a height as to enable him to fit in very well, as the battalion was sized in those days on the left of A or the right of B.
Frazier's class rank was now only 17. A story was in circulation that he had written to no less than five of the class, begging them to room with him, and promising to "brace up" this year; but this was confidential matter, and the cadets whose names were given could neither affirm nor deny. One thing was certain: Frazier had not been benefited by his furlough. He was looking sallow and out of condition. His father's health showed no improvement, so he told his chums; neither did his father's affairs, but this he told nobody. Like a number of other deluded people, Benny believed wealth essential to high repute.
For the first week no friction was apparent. Pops had speedily memorized his roster, and mapped out his plans for the daily routine. He had to attend guard-mounting every morning now, which took away something like forty minutes from possible study-time, and perhaps twenty minutes to half an hour were needed in making out the morning reports and other papers. On the other hand, he had the benefit of more exercise by day, and a light after taps until eleven o'clock. All through the Fourth Class year cadets are compelled to attend daily gymnastic exercise under a most skilful teacher; after that it is optional, and, as all get a fair amount of out-door work except during the winter months, very many cadets fail to keep up the training of the plebe year. Not so Pops and Connell. Regularly every day these young athletes put in half an hour with the Indian clubs, determined that when the drills were discontinued they would keep up systematic training in the "gym." But within the first fortnight after their return to barracks, Connell, coming over to compare notes as usual, quietly said they might as well add sparring to the list.
"We may need that more than we think, Pops. That fellow Jennings is stirring up trouble, unless I am mistaken."
Now there are all manner of little points against which a cadet first sergeant has constantly to be warring, or his company will become lax and unsoldierly. Unless promptly and firmly met, there are always a number of old cadets who want to saunter to their places at drum-beat, who will be, if allowed, always just a little slow, whose coats are not buttoned throughout or collars not adjusted when they fall in, who are unsteady in ranks, who answer to their names either boisterously or ludicrously, who slouch through the manual when not actually on parade, holding it to be undignified in an old cadet to observe the motions like a plebe, who are never closed up to the proper distance at the final tap of the drum – in fine, in a dozen little ways, unless the first sergeant is fearless and vigilant, and demands equal vigilance of his assistants, the morale of the company is bound to go down. First Class men and yearlings are generally the men at fault; plebes, as a rule, do the best they know how, for otherwise no mercy is shown them.
Very much in this way did the "custom" strike Connell and Pops. What with roll-calls, recitations, riding, and the brisk evening drills and parade, Geordie had no time to think of anything beyond his duties. But Connell said that Jennings had been over talking to some of his former class-mates, who were old stagers in Company D, and who were doing a good deal of talking now among themselves about the impropriety of appointing as their first sergeant a fellow from the right wing of the battalion who was not imbued with the time-honored tenets and traditions of the left-flank company. First Class men, said they, had always enjoyed certain privileges, as became gentlemen of their high standing, who were to become officers in less than a year, and one day it was decided they should sound Connell as to what his views might be, and the result was not at all to their liking. Connell couldn't be made to see that, because they were speedily to don the army blue, they should meantime be allowed to discredit the cadet gray.
"There's no reason that I can see," said Connell, "why First Class men shouldn't be just as soldierly in ranks as other cadets, and every reason why they should."
Then a B Company committee of two informally dropped in on Pops with a similar query, and got almost the same answer. Whereupon the committee said that the class had taken counsel together on the subject. They courted no trouble whatever, but simply gave Graham to understand that it wasn't "customary" to hold a First Class man in the ranks to the same rigid performance of the manual and the same precise carriage that would be exacted of a plebe. Neither could they be held to strict account in such trivial affairs as falling in for roll-call with coats unbuttoned or collars awry or belts twisted, or for other little matters of the kind, and any reports given them for such would be "regarded as personal." Whereupon they took their leave, and Geordie met Con with a broad Scotch grin on his face.
"Jennings is at the bottom of it all," said Connell. "He wants them, however, to start the move over in D Company, because he can't initiate anything of the kind under Bend. You understand."
"Well, to my thinking, and according to the way I was brought up," said Geordie, "such specimens should be court-martialled and dismissed the service. Men who have no higher idea of duty than that are not fit to be officers in the army."
"We-el," said philosopher Con, "they are boys only a little older than plebes, so far as knowledge of the world is concerned. The more I look at it the more I see just how comically juvenile we are in a way. When we were plebes, dozens of our class were never going to speak to those fellows of the yearlings, and never, never going to devil plebes. Within a year most of us were hobnobbing with the class above and lording it over the class below. As yearlings, lots of our fellows hated the first sergeants, who made us stand round, and we weren't going to have anything to do with them. Now we who are sergeants not only mean to make the yearlings toe the mark, but the First Class men as well, and they are going to force a fight on us for doing the very thing that in three or four years from now any one of their number who happens to be on duty here as an instructor will report a first sergeant for not doing. The whole corps says that when 'it' comes back here as an officer it won't forget it ever was a cadet, as every officer seems to do the moment he gets here, and you can bet your sash and chevrons it will do just exactly as the officers seem to do to-day. Now these fellows have an overweening idea of their importance because they are so soon to be graduates. That seems something very big from our point of view, and yet about the first thing a second lieutenant has to learn when he gets to his regiment is that he doesn't amount to a hill of beans. He's nothing but a plebe all over again. There's Jim Forester; when he was cadet officer of the day and we were plebes, didn't we think him just a little tin god on wheels? Recollect what a bully voice he had, and how he used to swing old D Company? But what did he amount to at Fort Reynolds last summer? Nothing but a low-down second lieutenant going on as officer of the guard, drilling squads, and – do you remember how the colonel jumped him that morning for some error in the guard list? Why, Geordie, you and I were of much more account at the fort than he was. And now here are these fellows kicking against the pricks. They don't want to be soldierly, because it's too plebelike in view of their coming shoulder-straps. We-el, they've just got to, that's all there is about it. Where are the gloves?"
And with that the two Westerners doffed their coats, donned the "mittens," and hammered away at each other as they were in daily habit of doing, and had been doing more or less for many a month of their Third Class year, Sayers and other experts coaching and occasionally taking hold for a brisk round or two on their own account. It was well understood that both Badger and Coyote were in tip-top trim and training. Meanwhile no trouble occurred in Connell's company worth speaking of, and little of consequence in B, but it was brewing. Three or four seniors had been deservedly reported for minor offences exactly as Geordie said they should be, but they were gentlemen who took it without audible comment and as a matter of course. Then came an experiment. Mr. Curry, a First Class man of rather slender build and reputation, one of the Jennings set, backed deliberately into ranks one morning at reveille, and stood there leisurely buttoning his coat, glancing at Graham out of the corner of his eye. Geordie had just about reached the B's in his roll, and stopped short.
"Curry, fall out and button that coat."
Curry reddened, but did not budge.
Pops budged, but did not redden. If anything he was a trifle paler as he stepped quickly over opposite the left of the company. His voice was low and firm:
"Curry, fall out at once and button that coat."
Only two buttons were by this time left unfastened. It took but a second to snap them into place. And then —
"My coat is buttoned," said Curry.
"It was unbuttoned throughout when you fell in ranks, and you know it. You also heard my order to fall out, and disobeyed it," was Graham's answer. Then back to his post he went, finished roll-call, reported "All present, sir," to Cadet Captain Bend, who had silently watched the affair, very possibly thinking it just as well to let Graham settle it for himself. And the next night after parade the following reports were read out in the clear tones of the cadet adjutant:
"Curry – Buttoning coat in ranks at reveille.
"Same – Continuing same after being ordered to fall out.
"Same – Replying to first sergeant from ranks at same."
Before Graham had thrown off his belts Mr. Jennings appeared, and with much majesty of mien proceeded to say:
"Mr. Graham, you have taken advantage of Mr. Curry's size, and in his name and in that of the First Class I am here to demand satisfaction."
"Go for Connell," said Geordie, with a quiet nod to Ames.
Next morning Mr. Jennings did not appear at reveille at all. It seems that the demand was honored at sight. Cadet Captain Bend cut supper and risked his chevrons to see that fight. Connell's heart was up in his mouth just about half the time as he seconded his sergeant comrade. It was a long-fought, longer remembered battle, and ended only within five minutes of call to quarters – Jennings at last, as had been predicted two years before, utterly used up, and Geordie, though bruised and battered, still in the ring.
CHAPTER XVI
Time flies at the Point, even in the hardest year of the four, as McCrea had called that of the Second Class. What with mechanics and chemistry, "tactics" and drawing, riding and drills, winter was upon them before our boys fairly realized it. Every day seemed to make Graham feel more assured in his position, and to strengthen the esteem in which he was held. The cabal of the few First Class men had reacted upon the originators like a boomerang. Jennings was in hospital a full week, and Curry walked punishment tours until January. Now, while Jennings was probably not the best man, pugilistically speaking, whom they could put up against the first sergeants, the better men were as sound morally and mentally as they were physically. Some of them expressed regret that Graham felt it his duty to make such serious reports against their class-mate, but it was conceded by every soldier and gentleman that Curry had brought it all on himself. As for Jennings, he richly deserved the thrashing that he had received, and a more humiliated and astonished fellow there was not in the corps. There was no more trouble in Company B. Geordie ruled it with a hand that never shook, yet without the faintest bluster or show of triumph. The First Class men, as a rule, were a very pleasant set, with a pride in their company, a pride in the corps, and a readiness to sustain Graham; and so he and his fellow-sergeants were spared further complication of that description. "In time of peace prepare for war, however," laughed Connell. "There's no surer way of keeping the peace than being ready for anything that may turn up."
Almost before they knew it the short days and the long, long evenings were upon them again. Mechanics and chemistry seemed to grow harder, but Graham had gained confidence and his instructors wisdom. They found that by digging under the surface there was much more to Geordie's knowledge of a subject than was at first apparent, and his mind as well worth cultivating as many a quicker soil. As for the corps, it is remarkable how many there were who knew all along that Jennings was a vastly overrated, over-confident fellow, whose fame was based on victories over lighter weights, and whose condition had been running down as steadily as Coyote's had been building up. In his own class Geordie was now the object of an almost enthusiastic regard, while the plebes looked upon him with hero-worship most extravagant. He had his enemies, as strong and dutiful men must ever have, but they were of such a class as Curry and Frazier and Jennings. "And what decent man in the corps cares for the ill-will of such as they?" asked Ames. "It's proof of a fellow's superiority."
Midwinter came, and one day Frazier was "wired" for suddenly. "Bad news from home," said Jennings, in explanation, when the battalion was gathering between the first and second drums for dinner. This time the superintendent did not deny a leave, but extended it a few days to enable the boy to remain for his father's funeral. Benny came back looking years older, sallow, and unhealthy. The broad, deep mourning band on his left arm was explanation of his non-appearance at the Thanksgiving hop. Geordie, Ames, and Connell went over to look on and hear the music.
"We'll have to be doing this sort of thing next year, Pops," said Connell, "so we may as well go and pick up pointers." There were not many girl visitors – at least, not enough for the cavaliers of the senior class, so that many of the corps did not dance at all. About ten o'clock Graham decided he had seen enough and would go home to study a while. The wind was blowing hard from the east. There was a mild, pallid moon vainly striving to peep through a swift-sailing fleet of scud, and throwing a faint, ghostly light over the barracks and guard-house. Out from the shadows of the stone-wall back of the mess building suddenly appeared a figure in the cadet overcoat with the cape thrown over his head. Catching sight of Graham, and recognizing apparently his step and form, the figure slipped back again whence it came, but not so quickly that Pops did not know it was Benny Frazier. Half a minute later, as he sprang up the steps of the fourth division, he came upon two cadets standing just within the doorway – plebes.
"Oh, Mr. Graham," said one, "the officer of the day is inspecting for men in confinement, and Mr. Jennings and Mr. Frazier are both out."
Not an instant was to be lost. Pops could hear the clink of the cadet sword and the slam of doors in the second division. In two minutes the officer would be over in the fourth, and "Benny and Jenny," as the pair were occasionally termed, would be "hived" absent. Arrest and heavy punishment must surely follow. Pops never stopped to follow the chain of thought. Back he sped on the wings of the wind. Five seconds and he reached the corner. Not a sign of the recent prowler, yet Geordie felt sure he had seen Frazier dart back behind that wall barely half a minute before – engaged in some clandestine bargaining with one of his messengers from the Falls, probably – and Jennings with him. Not a sign of the party down the dark, narrow lane behind the wall, not a sign of them up the grassy slope to the west back of the area retaining wall.
"Frazier! Jennings! Quick!" he called, loud enough to attract their attention if they were near at hand.
No answer.
It was off limits if he ventured either way, west or south, from the corner where he stood, and "off chevrons" if caught. Why risk his prospects for First Class year to save men who had ever been his enemies, and never would have lifted a hand to save him? Only the swaying of the branches and the sweep of the wind answered his excited hail. Not an instant to lose! Bounding up the westward path he ran until beyond the guard-house, and there came suddenly upon a shadowy group of four.
"Back to your room, Frazier! Inspection!" he gasped, halting short.
Two cadets rushed at the word. The two other forms slunk away, as though seeking to hide themselves among the trees up the hill-side. One was a civilian, a stranger to him; the other the drummer with whom Frazier had had the altercation more than a year previous. What were they doing now? Graham never stopped to have a word with them. Quickly he retraced his steps, and succeeded in regaining the area unnoticed. The officer of the day was just coming out of the fourth division as Geordie went in.
"Hello, Coyote! Tired of the light fantastic? or didn't you hop to-night?" he jovially asked.
"Had to come back to bone," was the reply.
It was evident from the cheery manner that nothing had been found amiss. The pair had managed to reach their den in safety, then; yet only in the nick of time. Geordie went to his room and to work, yet the thought of that unseemly stolen interview between Frazier and Jennings, the drummer and the stranger, kept intruding itself upon his mind. Presently a stealthy step came down the stair and to his door. Enter Frazier, still pale, still nervous and palpitating.
"Graham, you did me a great service – me and Jennings – to-night. I – I know – we haven't got along as well as we should, and I suppose I am partially to blame; but I don't want you to think I can't appreciate the risk you ran to save us, though either of us, of course, would have done as much for you – any time. You know that, I hope. We had some business out there, and d-did you see the others – so as to know them?"
"I knew the drummer well enough," said Graham, his blue eyes full on Benny's nervous face.
"Well, the other one's a cit. who's doing something for us. Say, one good turn deserves another. Don't tell anybody about where you saw us, or who were with us, will you? I wouldn't like it to get out on Jennings's account. He's got to work like a dog to graduate, as it is."
And before Graham could answer, in came Ames, astonished at sight of Frazier, and to him Benny began a hurried explanation of how Pops had heard of the inspection, and had rushed down to warn him. Then saying "Remember what I asked you" to Graham, he awkwardly let himself out.
"How are the mighty fallen!" soliloquized Ames, as Benny disappeared. "They say he's going 'way down in both Phil. and Chem. in January. He has no French to help him now. Benton thinks he'll tumble into the low thirties. What did he want of you?"
"Nothing to speak of," answered Pops, with that quiet grin of his. "He-e – said he came to thank me for giving that warning."
"Oh, thanks be blowed! He never came to thank you, Pops. That was only a pretext. He came to ask you to do or not to do something on his account, and I know it."
So did Geordie, by this time, but could not say so.
Four days after this episode leave of absence from 9.30 A.M. until 11 P.M. was granted Cadet Frazier on urgent personal business. A letter from an executor of the Frazier estate was the means of getting the order. It was known in the corps that, being now twenty-one, Benny was master of some little property, though nowhere near what he had expected would be his own. Making all allowances for the sadness and depression naturally following the loss of a loved parent, it was remarked that every day seemed to add to the trouble and dejection in Frazier's sallow face. He took little exercise, except the enforced tramp in the area on Saturday afternoons. He smoked incessantly. He seemed petulant and miserable in Jennings's society, yet Jennings was his inseparable companion. Wherever he went, there was Jennings. "What in the world is the tie that binds those two?" was the question often asked. They were utterly unlike. Their antecedents were widely opposed. Frazier had been reared in luxury and refinement; Jennings in nobody knew just what. He was the representative of one of the "toughest" congressional districts, originally known as the Sanguinary Second, in a crowded metropolis. He was smart in a certain way that spoke of long association with the street Arab and saloon sports. He was useful in plebe days when his class was standing up for what few rights a plebe is conceded to have, but lost caste as rapidly as his comrades gained wisdom. Only among the few weaklings of the Curry stamp had he a vestige of influence left before the long-expected fight with Graham, and after that and his utter and unlooked-for defeat his name seemed held only in derision. Yet he lorded it over Frazier. "You can hear them snapping and snarling at one another at any hour of the day or night," said their near neighbors. "If Frazier hates him so, why on earth doesn't he 'shake' him? They're getting enough demerit between them to swamp half a dozen men." These comments were almost universal.
By this time Frazier's downward course had brought him, both in philosophy and chemistry, into Geordie's sections. Once in a while he would rouse himself and make a brilliant recitation, but as a rule he seemed apathetic, even reckless. Time and again the young fellow's dark-rimmed eyes were fixed upon his old plebe room-mate's face with such a hungry, wistful, woful look that it haunted Geordie for days. Every time the latter surprised him in the act, however, Benny would turn quickly and dejectedly away. But more than once Graham almost made up his mind to go and beg the boy to say what was his trouble, and let him help him out.
At last the opportunity came. It was just before the January examination. Going one night to Frazier's room to notify him of a change in the guard detail, he found Benny alone at the table, his head buried in his arms, his attitude one of hopelessness and despair. He sprang up the instant he heard Geordie's voice.
"I – I – thought it was Jennings," he stammered, all confusion. "What's wanted?"
"I came to tell you Ewen would go on sick report, and you'd have to march on guard in his place."
This was said at the door. Then, impulsively stepping forward, Graham laid a hand on his shoulder.
"But, Frazier, I hate to see you looking so miserable. If you're in trouble, can't you let us help you out? There are plenty of fellows left to be your friends. It doesn't become me to say anything against your room-mate, but lots of us think you would do well to cut loose from him."