Dick Prescott's Third Year at West Point Part 38

Never had Captain Alb.u.t.t commanded at a better bit of cavalry work than was done this afternoon by members of the first and second cla.s.ses.

The wheelings, the facings and all the manoeuvres at the different gaits were executed with precision and dash. All the movements in troop and squadron were carried out to perfection.

To the instructor, it was plain that the most perfect esprit de corps existed. The cadets were acting with a singleness and devotedness of purpose which showed plainly that the perfect trooper was the sole subject of thought in their minds. At least, so the instructor thought, from the results obtained.

Even Haynes's face was inexpressive as he rode.

Greg was as jaunty as though he had not an unkind thought toward anyone in the world.

Cadet Prescott did not betray a sign of any thought save to do his duty perfectly.

Yet, every time that his horse was brought close to Haynes's, Prescott had his eyes open for any foul play that might be attempted by the turnback.

"If the young men do as splendidly to-morrow before the Board of Visitors," thought Captain Alb.u.t.t, "I shall feel that my year of work here has been a grand success. Jove, what a born trooper everyone of these young fellows seems to be!"

At last the drill was finished. In detachments, the young cadet troopers returned to the road between the administration building and the academic building.

Here each detachment dismounted, surrendered its horses to a waiting detail of enlisted cavalrymen, and then marched in to barracks.

As soon as the young men had removed their riding leggings, and the dust from their uniforms, most of them descended into the quadrangle.

Haynes reached his room just an instant behind Pierson.

"See here, Pierson, you cad, what did you-----"

"Oh, shut up!" replied Pierson, with a weary sigh.

"Don't you speak to me like that, sir!" cried Haynes warningly, as he stepped over to where his roommate was busy with a clothes brush.

"I don't want to talk with you at all," retorted Pierson.

"You'll talk to me a lot, or you'll answer with your fists!"

"Fight with you? Bah!" growled the other man in disgust.

"You cad, you deliberately li-----"

But Pierson, having put his brush away, turned on his heel and left the room.

Haynes paused for an instant, his face white with a new dread.

A cadet stands low, indeed, when another cadet will not resent being called a liar by him.

"This has kicked up an awful row against me, I guess," muttered the turnback, as he hastily cleaned himself. "I must get down into the quadrangle, mix with the fellows and set myself straight."

Full of this purpose, for he was not lacking in a certain quality of nerve and courage, Haynes went down to the quadrangle.

"I am afraid a good deal of feeling was aroused this afternoon, Furlong," began the turnback.

Then he gulped, clenched his fists and lost color, for Cadet Furlong, without a word, had turned on his heel and walked away.

"Griffin, what does Fur-----"

Cadet Griffin, too, turned on his heel, pa.s.sing on.

"Dobbs-----"

It was Dobbs's turn to show his back and stroll away.

"What the deuce has got into them all?" wondered Haynes, though his heart sank, for, much as he wanted to ignore the meaning, it was becoming plain to him.

Another cadet was pa.s.sing along the walk. To him Haynes turned with an appealing face.

"Lewis," began the turnback, "I am afraid I shall have to ask you-----"

Whatever it was, Lewis did not wait to hear. He looked at Haynes as though he saw nothing there, and joined a little group of cadets beyond.

"Confound these puppies!" growled Haynes to himself. "They're all fellows that I hazed when they were plebes, and they haven't forgiven me. I see clearly enough that, if I am to have an explanation, or get a chance to make one, I must do it through the members of my old cla.s.s."

Some distance down the quadrangle stood Brayton and Spurlock, first cla.s.smen and captains in the cadet battalion.

"They're high-minded, decent fellows," said Haynes to himself.

"I will go to them and get this nasty business set straight."

Past several groups of cadets stalked Haynes, affecting not to see any of the fellows. But these cadets appeared equally indifferent to being recognized.

Brayton and Spurlock were talking in low tones when the turnback approached them.

"Brayton," began Haynes, "I want to ask you to do me a bit of a favor."

Brayton did not stop his conversation with Spurlock, nor did he show any other sign of having heard the turnback.

"Brayton! I beg your pardon!"

But the first cla.s.sman did not turn.

"Spurlock," asked Haynes, in a thick voice, "are you in this tommy-rot business, too?"

Spurlock, however, seemed equally deaf.

"Then see here, both of you-----" insisted Haynes, choking with anger.

The two first cla.s.smen turned their backs, walking slowly off.

There was no chance to doubt the fate that had overtaken him.

Haynes had been "sent to Coventry." Henceforth, as long as he remained in the corps of cadets, he was to be "cut." No other cadet could or would speak to him, under the same penalty of also being sent to Coventry.

Henceforth the only speech that any cadet would have with him would be a necessary communication on official business. Socially there was no longer any Cadet Haynes at West Point.