On Guard Part 4

There was vague uncertainty after that, changing to horror at the next speech.

"Miss Fuller," said Mark, smiling, "has proclaimed herself an ardent sympathizer and admirer of the purposes and principles of the Banded Seven. Miss Fuller desires to be known as a 'Daughter of the Revolution.' Miss Fuller knows about Bull Harris, and doesn't like him, and suggests a first-rate method of busting--if you will pardon my slang, Miss Fuller--to-night's celebration. Miss Fuller likes to hear cannon go off at night. She offers to procure the powder if we will do the loading; she even offers to fire it, if we'll allow her. Also, gentlemen, allow me to propose member number eight of the seven, and incidentally to suggest that the name Banded Seven be changed and that in future we go down to posterity as----"

Mark paused one solemn moment, and cleared his throat----

"The Banded Seven and One Angel!"

And after that there was a deep, long, wide, and altogether comprehensive silence, while the six stared at Mark and his thoroughly amused friend in incredulity, amazement, alarm, horror--who can say what?

It was fully a minute before any of them found breath. And then a perfect torrent of Bah Joves! Durnations! B'gees! Bless my souls! and By Zeuses! burst out upon the air, to be followed by another silence even longer and larger than the last.

What on earth had happened! The six couldn't seem to get it through their heads. Could it be possible that this girl, the belle of West Point, the beauty over whom half the cadets were wild, the daughter of a famous judge, was sympathizing with a few, poor, miserable plebes in an effort to upset West Point? And that she had actually offered to help them in a trick, the boldness of which was enough to make the boldest hesitate? Good stars! The world must be coming to an end! No wonder the amazed plebes gasped and stared, and then stared and gasped, unable to believe that they stood on the same earth as half a minute previously.

Mark and his companion, who understood their perplexity entirely, and who seemed to have gotten amazingly in sympathy during a brief afternoon's conversation, stood and regarded them meanwhile with considerable amus.e.m.e.nt.

Well, it must be true! Mark said so, and the girl heard him and seemed to say "yes" with her laughing blue eyes.

That was the conviction which finally forced itself upon the incredulous and befuddled six, and with it came a dim, undefined consciousness of the fact that possibly they were not doing the very politest thing in the world in staring at their "angel."

First to realize it was Texas, last of all to whom one would have looked for any species of gallantry.

Texas sprang forward and seized the girl's fair white hand in his own mighty paw.

"Hi, Miss Fuller!" he cried, "I'm glad to have you join! Whoop!"

Which broke the ice.

CHAPTER V.

THE SCHEME SUCCEEDS.

Dress parade in all its Fourth of July holiday splendor had pa.s.sed, and the sunset gun marked the ending of that day of celebration. Through the dusk of evening the battalion had marched back from supper, to the tune of "Marching Through Georgia" from the band and the popping of sundry small firecrackers from mischievous small boys on the way. And then the cadets had scattered, still in their dress uniforms, each to join his own party of friends and go to the evening's entertainment.

Cadets are famous as "ladies' men," and during the gay holiday season, which was now on, West Point was crowded with girls, so that every cadet had his opportunities for gallantry, excepting, of course, the plebes, who do not go into "society."

As the hour approached, the big gymnasium hall took on a lively aspect.

It ceased to be a gymnasium for a while; rings and trapezes were hung up, and rows of seats occupied the floor, instead of parallel bars. The big West Point Band was seated in front, and the rest of the room was devoted to pretty girls and their cadet escorts. The Fourth of July celebration was a cadet affair; the "president" occupied the small platform in solitary grandeur; the commandant and his staff were present, but they sat among the audience.

The plebes were there, too, on sufferance. The gallery was given up to their use, and they filled it entirely, and gazed on the scene below.

The room with its decorations of flags and bunting, making them feel very patriotic indeed.

The plebes we are interested in were there with the rest. They sat off in one corner where they could whisper and keep their secret all to themselves. If any one had overheard them, which they took good care should not happen, he would have learned, to his amazement, that the night's plot was all perfected. He might have learned that "George" had done his duty with fully as much delight as any of the Seven.

He might have learned that having been taken into the secret "George"

had not only gotten the powder, but had volunteered to do the work himself, to save the seven "young gintlemen" all danger of discovery. He might have learned that down in a secluded woody hollow just east of camp lay three big siege guns in "Battery Knox," loaded and stuffed to the muzzle with powder and paper and rags.

There was lots more he might have learned. He might have learned that at the present moment the jolly, red-faced butler was lurking about the neighborhood of the Battery, anxiously surveying his watch at intervals of every minute or so, waiting for half-past nine, the precise minute when he was to touch off the fuse and run. Also that Grace was down with her father, in the audience, occasionally stealing a sly glance at Mark; also that Mark was bearing a good deal of merry banter upon his conquest; also that the Seven, having spent two hours or so with Grace, were vowing her the most original, daring and altogether charming girl that ever was anywhere, a most undoubtable and valuable ally of Mark and his anti-hazing society.

The seven were about as nervous and anxious as seven plebes could possibly be. What if "George" should be found out? What if the guns should not go off? It was such a colossal and magnificent plot that the mere thought of its failure was enough to make one's hair turn gray.

What if the thing should begin too late, the guns go off before Bull started? Or on the other hand, suppose his speech was short and he shouldn't be interrupted!

Mark had calculated the time carefully. He had allowed five minutes for the "prelude." But suppose it should be longer, or shorter, or should begin after eight-thirty? As the hour drew near Mark and his friends sat and wriggled in their seats and glanced at their watches and----

"It's half past now," growled Texas. "Durnation, it's a minute after that! Ain't they ever--ah!"

The bandmaster arose from his seat, and raised his baton in the air. It was the "Star Spangled Banner," and the sound shook the flags that graced the walls and shook the hearts of the audience, too, and made them rise as one man.

"'Tis the Star Spangled Banner And long may it wave.

O'er the land of the free And the home of the brave!"

The notes died out and the Seven remembered that for a moment they had forgotten to be nervous.

The grave young chaplain arose, and raised his hands. His prayer was earnest, and his voice trembled as he spoke of the flag and its country.

But alas! our friends had no eye or ear for beauty. It was time--time!

Would he take more than the calculated five minutes? It was time for him to stop! Plague take it--six!--six and a half!--ah! There he had said "Finally," no, he was going off on another tack! Gee whiz--eight--thank heavens!

The sigh of relief that came at last from the Seven almost shook the roof.

Then came "music;" that had been problematical. Music might mean anything from two minutes to twenty. But there is no need of torturing the reader, even if the seven were tortured correspondingly. The piece took some ten minutes of agony, and then Cadet Captain Fischer stepped forward on the platform.

Fischer was an immensely popular man with his cla.s.s, and they applauded him to the echo. He looked handsome, too, in his chevrons and sash. He read "The Declaration of Independence," and he read it in the voice that had made him first captain, a voice that was clear and deep and ringing, a voice that sounded in the open above the thunder and rattle of artillery drill, and that sounded still better in the hall, as it spoke the words that had made a continent tremble.

There was nothing in that to worry the Seven--they had gotten a copy of the "Declaration" and practiced it by the watch. Fischer finished on schedule time; but then came the tussle. And some poor plebes up in the gallery nearly had apoplexy from waiting.

There were fifteen minutes left. That allowed say ten minutes for the music, and five for Bull to get warmed up to his work.

The bandmaster arose; he played "Hail Columbia." The audience, wild with fervor, stormed and shouted; he played it again. The minutes fled by.

The Seven gasped! The audience kept up their applause, and the music struck up "My Country, 'Tis of Thee," while the time fled yet faster still.

Great heavens! and still the fools--the fools!--in that crowd clapped and waved handkerchiefs--would they never stop, would they never let Bull step forward? He was dying to. The Seven could see him in his seat, half-risen, waiting doubtless as impatiently as they. And still the people wouldn't behave themselves.

Bull rose up. Ah, at last. There was a cessation in the infernal racket!

The amount of torture the plebes suffered during those brief moments cannot be told. The gun might go off at any moment now! It might go off before Bull started, might ruin the whole thing. Plague take him, what made him walk so slowly? Would he never get up on that platform? And the foolish audience, why didn't they stop and let him start? What did they want to be applauding that ugly old yearling for? And why didn't he stop that fool bowing and sc.r.a.ping? Some people are such chumps!

The applause stopped at last. An expectant hush fell upon the crowd.

Bull Harris stood pompous and self-conscious, gazing upon the scene for a moment, and then began. The Seven gasped: "We've got him."

"Ladies and Gentlemen: We have a.s.sembled upon this memorable occasion to celebrate (Now let that gun go, b'gee!) one of the most glorious achievements (You bet we have!) that ever was attained by man. We have a.s.sembled (What on earth's the matter with "George?") to applaud with the voices of the present, words that echo from memories of the past, (Can his watch have stopped?) words that will ring through the halls of time (Plague take the luck!) as long as time shall be counted in the heart throbs of living men. The deeds of our ancestors live in the----"

At last!

With a boom and a rattle and a crash gun No. 1 of Battery Knox thundered out upon the still night air. Bull stopped in amazement; the audience sprang up in alarm; the seven shrieked--silently--for joy. And then----

Boom!