Dick Prescott's Third Year at West Point Part 37

Haynes glanced down, saw the thing, and pretended to be greatly astonished.

"How did I get that thing in my shoe?" he cried.

Then, with an appearance of indolent indifference that was rather overdone, the turnback stooped low enough to extract the pin.

But his fingers trembled in the act, and half a dozen cadets noted the fact.

"That's a reckless bit of business, Haynes," continued Anstey in a voice that did not appear to be accusing.

"Reckless?" gasped Greg Holmes. "It's criminal!"

"What do you mean?" demanded Haynes, straightening himself and glaring coldly into Holmes's eyes.

But Greg was one of the last fellows in the world to permit himself to be "frozen."

"I mean what I say, Haynes," he retorted plumply. "With that thing in the toe of your boot something would be likely to happen when some other horse's flank b.u.mped you on the right. And, by George, it's Prescott who rides at your right in platoon or column of fours!"

Greg shot a look full of keen suspicion at the turnback.

"And it was Prescott who rode on your right the day he was thrown from Satan!" flashed Greg, his face going white from the depth of his sudden feeling. "Haynes, did you have that pin in the toe of your boot the day that Prescott was thrown in the riding hall?"

"You-----" Haynes began, at white heat, clenching his free fist.

"Answer me!" broke in Greg insistently.

"I did not!"

"I don't believe you!" shot back Cadet Holmes

"Confound you, sir, do you mean to call me a liar?" hissed the turnback.

"Yes!" replied Greg promptly.

Haynes dropped his bridle, stepping toward Greg Holmes, who, however, neither flinched nor looked worried.

"Hold my lines, Dobbs," urged Pierson, pa.s.sing his bridle over to a fellow cla.s.sman.

Then Pierson sprang in front of Greg, facing his roommate.

"Softly, Haynes!" cried Pierson warningly.

"What is this to you?" demanded the turnback hotly.

"I am under the impression," replied Pierson, "that this is not a personal matter so much as it is a cla.s.s affair."

But Haynes, feeling that he was almost cornered, became reckless and desperate.

"This is a personal matter, Pierson. Stand aside until I knock that cur down."

"From any other man in the detachment," spoke Greg bitterly, "I would regard the use of that word an insult. Haynes, if you hit me, I shall knock you clean into the Hudson River. But I will not accept any challenge to fight until the cla.s.s has pa.s.sed on this matter."

"The cla.s.s has nothing to do with it," insisted Haynes.

"I think the cla.s.s has," broke in Pierson. "When the time comes I shall have considerable to say."

"Then say it now!" commanded Haynes, glaring at his roommate.

"I will," nodded Pierson. "The other night, Haynes, I was awakened to find you walking about the room in your sleep. You also talked in your sleep. At the time I could make nothing of it all. Now, I think I understand."

Then Cadet Pierson swiftly recounted what he had seen and what he had heard that night in the room.

"You were fingering something on the left front of your blouse, and while doing so, you made the distinct remark that this was what had done the trick for Prescott," charged Pierson. "I did not see what it was that you were fingering, but the next day, the first chance I got, I, too, examined the left front of your blouse. I found a small, black pin fastened there. It has been fastened there every time since when I have had a chance to look at your fatigue blouse hanging on the wall."

"I am not responsible for what I say when I'm sleepwalking," cried Haynes in a rage. "And, besides, Pierson, you're lying."

"I'll wager that not a man here believes I'm lying," retorted Pierson coolly.

"No, no! You're no liar, Pierson!" cried a dozen men at once.

"Is there a black pin inside your blouse at this moment?" challenged Greg.

"None of your business," cried the turnback hoa.r.s.ely.

"I demand that you show up, or stand accused," insisted Cadet Holmes.

"I'll show up nothing, or take any orders from anyone who tries to lie my good name away," retorted Haynes. "But at least two of you will have to fight me mighty soon."

"I won't fight you," retorted Greg bluntly, "until the cla.s.s declares you to be a man fit to fight with."

"Nor I, either," rejoined Pierson decisively. "Stand aside, you hound, and let me get at that cur behind you!" cried Haynes hoa.r.s.ely.

"Attention!" called the detachment marcher formally. "The instructor for the day!"

Captain Alb.u.t.t rode out of the nearest cavalry stable, mounted on his own pure white horse.

At the order of the marcher each cadet fell back to the lines of his own mount.

When Captain Alb.u.t.t reached the detachment he saw nothing to indicate the disturbance that had just occurred.

CHAPTER XXIII

THE DECREE OF "COVENTRY"

"Prepare to mount! Mount!"

Some preliminary commands of drill were executed. Then the serious work of the hour began.