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CHAPTER XII TOM’S REFUSAL

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“mighty good sleepers in here!” muttered the sentry as he flashed his lantern in the faces of tom and sam. “mighty good!”

he was an experienced man, and, doubtless had played the same trick himself many a time. he stooped and looked under the cots where the shoes of the “plebes” should have been. tom knew what was going on and he felt sure that sam must have left his soil-begrimed shoes in plain sight.

but tom had not given his tent-mate credit for some common sense. sam had guessed that shoes would be looked at, since there was some mud about the camp that day. so sam had put his shoes in his locker, and had taken out a clean pair which he put at the foot of his cot.

the sentry grunted as he detected no signs of mud on the leather, and again flashed his light in[pg 92] the faces of the two lads, having, by a quick look, ascertained that the tent was in proper order.

“um!” grunted the sentry, as he was about to leave, baffled.

“eh? what’s that? who’s here? what’s the trouble?” asked sam, pretending to awaken suddenly and blinking his eyes at the light. “i say, tom!” he went on, with an air of innocence that became him well. “something’s going on all right!”

“there’ll be more before there’s less,” growled the sentry. “mighty innocent, you two!”

he went out and tom and sam refrained from talk for some time, for they realized that he might come sneaking softly back to overhear any words that might give him a clue.

at last, however, as several minutes passed, and nothing happened, sam ventured to whisper, and told tom all that had occurred. though tom was not in on the lark he had all the facts, and knew those who had taken part in it.

for some time search went on through the streets of white tents but, as far as could be learned, none of the culprits was discovered. finally quiet settled down over the camp, and tom and sam really slept.

the next morning, of course, there was an effort made to discover those responsible for the attempted outrage, as captain hawkesbury[pg 93] termed it. he was one of the chief investigators, and he stormed around, telling what he would do to the culprits when he discovered them.

“but first you’ve got to catch them,” murmured harry, who had, like sam, escaped by a narrow margin. “nobody will peach.”

of course that was not to be thought of, and the code of morals at west point would allow of no lying. if any of the guilty ones had been asked directly if he had taken part in the fracas of the night, not one would have denied it.

but it was not the policy of the investigators to ask the direct question. they wanted to be in a position to make an accusation, have the necessary evidence, and then mete out the just punishment. that is, it was the policy of all but one man, and that was the old army officer, captain hawkesbury. whether he had forgotten the code of morals to which he had formerly subscribed when at west point or whether he chose to ignore it, was not plain.

at any rate he seemed determined to find out, by hook or crook, who were the guilty ones, and he took the meanest method of doing this. he sent for tom and demanded to know of him whether or not sam, harry or chad had had a part in the night’s lark.

at first tom was too surprised to answer. though he had not been long at west point he[pg 94] realized that this questioning, to make one cadet report on another, was without precedent.

“i refuse to answer, captain hawkesbury,” tom said.

“what! you dare refuse me?”

“i feel that i must.”

“then you know some of the guilty ones?” and the old officer leered up into tom’s face.

“i refuse to answer that also.”

“it won’t do you any good. i have positive information that you know the guilty ones, and i demand that you give me their names!”

“and i, much as i regret it, respectfully refuse,” said tom, firmly.

“then i’ll make you tell!” declared the captain in angry passion.

tom felt that he was in trouble.

for a moment or two the man who had so benefited by tom’s father’s money—legally or illegally—seemed to be considering the case. then, he appeared to make up his mind.

“six hours of guard duty as a starter!” he snapped. “if that doesn’t bring you to your senses i’ll try something else. if you want to tell,” he went on, in a wheedling tone, “i will be in a position to get you some special privileges. perhaps even a furlough.”

this was almost unheard of for a plebe, and tom knew it. he also knew that captain[pg 95] hawkesbury had some underhand power, but whether he could exert it over army officers, however much he might with politicians, was a matter of conjecture.

“are you going to tell?” he demanded, banging his fist down on his table so that the papers danced.

“no, sir,” answered tom, quietly.

“then go on guard! i’ll see you later!” was the cold retort.

doing guard duty on a hot day, in a stiff uniform, carrying a heavy gun in the broiling sun, is not an easy task. tom found it very trying, but not for an instant did he falter in his determination to refuse to tell what he knew.

his companions waxed indignant, and there was a hurried meeting of the “plebes.” the guilty ones offered to confess to save tom from further punishment, but he heard of it, and refused to accept the sacrifice.

“i can stick it out!” he said.

“but what if there is more to come?” asked sam. “he may lock you up as a prisoner, and cut off every privilege.”

“let him,” said tom.

but captain hawkesbury did not go that far. whether he dared not, or whether those higher in authority stepped in and released tom, never became known.

[pg 96]

certain it was that tom was relieved from guard duty, and nothing was said about further punishment. he went to his tent worn out and weary, but his spirit was not broken, and he had not told.

“but he’ll be more my enemy than ever,” mused tom, for he felt that the old army officer would be chagrined that he could not inflict some punishment on the guilty ones.

however, those taking part in the frolic, were never officially known, and the matter passed into west point history, with other similar cases.

meanwhile, the drill work at the camp went on, and tom was beginning to feel that he was slowly getting on to the road which would lead him to his place as an officer in the united states army. from time to time he wondered how his mother was getting on. he had letters, of course, and they seemed to be bright and cheery ones. but tom knew that even if she suffered she would write that way.

“hang it all!” he would exclaim. “if i could only get hold of some money for her—some of the money i feel sure father must have left. but where is it?”

then would come the memory of that letter in the tent of captain hawkesbury.

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