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CHAPTER XI A LARK

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captain hawkesbury received tom with a grim smile. in his heart tom felt a deep dislike for this man who, in some manner or other, had so profited by mr. taylor’s tangled property affairs.

it was an open secret in and around chester that captain hawkesbury and aaron doolittle had made a small fortune simply out of the sale of the land to the railroad company, for instead of taking all cash they had been given certain shares in the company, which shares had doubled in value very shortly.

“and my mother might have had those shares if things—well, if things had gone differently,” mused tom. “i wonder if there’s any chance of ever getting back part of that money—or having a claim on the land which the railroad company would have to settle for with us?”

tom had often had these thoughts, but he was no day-dreamer, and the hard realities of life left him little time to indulge in such speculations.

[pg 84]

“i guess i’ll just have to grind along until i graduate,” he mused. “then i may make enough so that mother won’t have to work any more.”

he, as well as the other cadets at west point, was paid a small salary while studying, the money being held for them until the completion of their four years’ service.

“i’ll have that to start with, anyhow,” tom reasoned, as he faced the grim old army officer.

“mr. taylor,” began captain hawkesbury, in rasping tones, “you don’t seem to show the right spirit at drill.”

“i’m sure i didn’t mean to do anything out of the way, sir,” tom replied, after his salute.

“don’t answer me back!” was the snapping retort. “you haven’t a good carriage. i think i can improve it. stand up straight now and i’ll give you some exercises. straighter!” was the sharp order, and tom threw back his shoulders until he had a pain in the middle of his back.

and then for over an hour captain hawkesbury made him stand in a strained position, at times ordering him to go through certain exercises, more tiring than the standing. and all the while there was a mean grin on the face of the crabbed old man. he seemed to take delight in tom’s discomfiture, and no doubt he did. he was strictly within his rights—tom knew that—but, none the less, our hero was sure the ordeal he had[pg 85] to go through was devised solely as a personal punishment to gratify the spleen of captain hawkesbury because tom had defeated the captain’s nephew.

tom was as limp as a rag when he was allowed to go back to his room, and his chums commiserated with him as he told them of what he had gone through.

“the old scab!” ejaculated sam.

“we ought to haze him!” declared harry.

“i’m afraid you won’t get a chance to do that,” tom said. “the only thing for me to do is to keep as much out of his way as possible. and that isn’t going to be easy. this is certainly fierce!” and he drooped his aching shoulders to ease them from the long strain.

“cheer up! there’s a little relief in sight,” harry said.

“what’s that?” tom asked.

“orders have been published saying we’re to go to camp. it will be different there, at least.”

“good!” tom cried, animation showing on his face. “it’s getting too hot in barracks.”

the new cadets had had three weeks of almost constant drilling, in setting-up exercises, marching, and the manual of arms; and now came a change. each lad received four pairs of white duck trousers, in anticipation of camp life, at least that number being necessary to enable them to look neat,[pg 86] for the white material soiled quickly, and neatness is one of the fundamental requirements at west point.

up to now the new cadets had not mingled in the least with the upper classmen. there would be no association for the following year, it being the policy at the military academy to keep the first-year men separated from the second, third and fourth year classes. but though there would be no mingling there would be more or less association in camp with the third and fourth year men. the second class was on furlough, there being but one during the four years’ course, coming at the conclusion of the second year.

divided into companies, according to the height of the men, tom and his friends were marched over to camp, where the white tents, in precise rows, nestled under the shade of the maple trees near the banks of the historic hudson. the “plebes” had been looking toward it for some time with longing eyes, but it was a place they were forbidden to approach until sent there to spend part of the summer receiving instruction.

with brooms, buckets, bedding and personal property, the new cadets tramped over the cavalry plain toward the rows of cool and inviting-looking tents. naturally the arrival of the “plebes” attracted the attention of the upper classmen, who indulged in all manner of good-natured[pg 87] gibes against the unfortunates. this went on until the new lads were divided off into different companies.

as but two cadets would occupy the same tent tom, harry and sam were to be separated. but only one tent apart, they were glad to note. tom and sam bunked together, while harry went in with a lad named chad wilson, from new jersey, a lad to whom tom and his chums had taken a great liking.

“well, now let’s get straightened out,” tom suggested to sam as they piled their belongings on the floor of the tent. some of the older cadets kindly showed our friends how to sling their “stretchers,” a canvas holder that hung from the ridge-pole of the tent. in this stretcher is put clothing and everything that cannot be gotten in the lockers that stand on the floor. the tent of tom and sam was soon in proper and perfect shape for inspection.

“say, they’re all right—those fellows!” exclaimed sam, as the two upper classmen left, having spent some time showing him and tom how to arrange their tent. “i like them.”

“don’t let ’em know it,” advised tom.

“why not?”

“because they’ll freeze to us and make us their ‘special duty’ men. they probably will anyhow.”

[pg 88]

“what’s ‘special duty’ men?” sam wanted to know.

“you’ll find out soon enough.”

and sam did. a little later he and tom were detailed to keep in order the tent of the two third-year cadets who had showed them how to arrange their bedding that first day. and for the remainder of that camp the two “plebes” were obliged to do all sorts of services for the upper classmen, from making contraband lemonade to going on errands and writing their less important letters.

in exchange the protection of the upper-class cadets was thrown around their special duty men. no other cadet was allowed to utilize their services, nor even to haze them mildly. and tom and sam also were given much friendly advice, help in their studies, and acquired some cast-off, but very good, clothing that came in very handy for lads whose spending money was limited.

so life at camp began, and it was a welcome change, in a way, from the former system of drilling. not that it was any easier, for the plebes had much to learn. more than once did tom fall under the stern eye of captain hawkesbury who seemed to single our hero out for special reproof.

one day when tom was sent to the old army officer’s tent, he saw, on a table amid a pile of other letters, one that bore the scrawling signature[pg 89] of aaron doolittle. a puff of wind blew the epistle to the floor, and tom, who picked it up, could not help seeing part of one sentence.

these words seemed fairly to stare out at him: “the railroad company is not altogether satisfied about bridge land title. we’ll have to get together on it soon.”

“now what in the world can that mean?” thought tom, as he placed the letter back with the others. “if i could only get a good lawyer to take up our case i might find there was something coming to my mother from that land. but i guess it isn’t of much use. poor mother! if captain hawkesbury knows anything about any money due us he’s keeping it mighty secret.”

but tom’s speculations concerning the strange meaning of the sentence in the letter were brought to an abrupt end, at least for the time being, that same night.

there had been hard and gruelling drill, and a mild spirit of revolt was abroad among some of the “plebes.” word was passed around that a lark was in prospect. some of the boys were going to play a trick on one or two of the sentries. tom had a chance to go in on it but refused, and he was glad, later, that he had stayed out.

for the lark was a fizzle. the sentries had been informed beforehand about the trick, and nearly captured those who intended to take their[pg 90] guns away from them. the officer of the day, the officer of the guard and the sergeant came out on the alarm and a chase of the luckless cadets resulted.

tom was in his tent when sam entered hurriedly, barely managing to slip in past the sentinel in the company street.

“narrow squeak!” sam murmured. “mum’s the word, tom, old man.”

“sure!” tom answered. in the next tent he could hear harry and chad going in hurriedly, to undress and get into bed before a general inspection was made.

and hardly had sam pulled the clothes over him before one of the sentries with a dark-lantern came in.

sam gave an audible snore, and tom followed his example.

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