dress parade in all its fourth of july holiday splendor had passed, 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;[pg 37] 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-[pg 38]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[pg 39] 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.
[pg 40]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 class, 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![pg 41] 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 scraping? 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 assembled upon this memorable occasion to celebrate (now let that gun go,[pg 42] b'gee!) one of the most glorious achievements (you bet we have!) that ever was attained by man. we have assembled (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!
it was no. 2. the room rang with shouts of confusion; cadets stared and ran hastily about; women cried out in alarm.
boom!
it was no. 3, and at the same instant from a hundred throats came the dreaded cry of "fire!"
three guns is west point's fire alarm. quick as a flash, before the audience had time to think of flight, of panic, the commandant of cadets sprang to the platform.
[pg 43]"company fire battalion form on the street outside, immediately!"
at the same moment, in response to a command from outside, a drum orderly sounded the "long roll." the band struck up a quick march, and tramp, tramp, tramp, the grave cadets marched out of the hall, forgetting friends and entertainment, forgetting everything in the one important thought—discipline—obedience to orders.
and in half a minute more the gymnasium was empty; the street was crowded with the anxious audience, and the battalion was tramping steadily across the parade ground in a vain search for an imaginary fire.
in that battalion were seven wildly delighted plebes. they hugged themselves for joy; they gasped, choked with repressed laughter. they punched each other in the ribs and whispered:
"didn't we do it? oh, didn't we do it? three cheers for the banded seven—b. b. j.!"
the fire, of course was not found. near camp the corps halted, to wait for the person who fired the alarm guns to come out and lead the way. he didn't do it, and gradually it began to dawn upon the commandant and the assembled "tacs" that the whole thing was a hoax. "and then indeed the philistines were wroth."
captain quincey, the commandant, stepped to the head of the line, determined to investigate the matter on the[pg 44] spot. roll call disclosed the fact that no one was absent; that made him think the guns were fired with a time fuse, and so he tried another way to find out the culprits.
it is not good form in west point to lie; cadets who do soon find themselves cut by the class. so captain quincey, knowing that, gave this order:
"parties who fired those guns will remain standing. those who are innocent will advance one step. march!"
now that any plebe had dared to do such a bold trick had never occurred to the cadets. they were convinced that some of their number were guilty, and they protected them in the usual way. not a man moved. they refused to obey the order.
the commandant was furious, of course. he tried it the other way, ordered the guilty ones to advance. whereupon the whole corps stepped forward to share the blame. to punish them he tried the dodge of keeping them standing at attention for half an hour or so, but several dropped from well-feigned exhaustion, which stopped that scheme.
he ordered one of the "tacs" to march them around the parade ground. the cadets, who were out for fun by this time and angry besides, guyed the unpopular "tac" with a vengeance. it was too dark for him to distinguish any one, and so every one obeyed orders wrong, pro[pg 45]ducing chaos and finally compelling him to summon the commandant to preserve order.
with the commandant watching, those weary cadets marched for an hour more. then he asked some questions and again got no answers. and finally in disgust he sent them off to their tents, most of them still puzzled as to who did it, some of them wild with joy.
these last were the banded seven—"b. b. j."
