the summer season is a gay one at west point. during the winter cadet life is a serious round of drill and duty, but after that comes a three months' holiday, when cadets put on their best uniforms and welcome mothers and sisters and other fellows' sisters to the post. there are hops then, and full dress parades, and exhibition drills galore.
it was one of these drills that was going on that morning, perhaps of all of them the most showy and interesting to the stranger. and the mothers and sisters and other fellows' sisters were out in full force to see it.
"light artillery drill" is practice in the handling and firing of field cannon. the cadets learn to handle heavy guns also, practicing with the "siege and seacoast batteries" that front on the southern shore of the hudson. but the drill with the field pieces is held on the cavalry plain, a broad, turfless field just south of the camp.
the field presented a pretty sight on that morning. it was surrounded with a wall of trees, behind which, to the south, the somber gray stone of barracks stood out,[pg 92] with the academy building, the chapel and the library. to the north the white tents of the camp shone through the trees and a little further to the left, the battle monument rose above them and caught on its marble sides the glistening rays of the sun. beneath the trees all around the plain and crowding the steps of the buildings, were scattered groups of spectators, the gay dresses of the women helping to make a setting of color.
there was a jingling of harness, a rumbling of wheels, and a murmur of excitement among the spectators as the cadet corps put in an appearance, natty and handsome in their uniforms, the officers riding on horseback, and the privates mounted on the cannon or the caissons. platoon after platoon they swept out upon the field; then formed in accordance with the sharp commands of the officers; and in a few minutes more "artillery drill" was under way.
it is rather an inspiring sight at times. there are over a dozen of the cannon, with four horses each to draw them, and when the whole squadron gets into motion at once, there is a thundering of hoofs and a cloud of dust behind to mark the path. and then when they wheel, and aim and fire, the roar of the discharge echoes among the hills and makes the post seem very military and warlike indeed.
so thought the spectators as they sat and watched, too[pg 93] much interested to have any eyes for what might happen elsewhere. but those who sat on the southern edge of the plain, where the road from highland falls emerged, were destined to witness a far more exciting incident than that, an incident which was not down on the programme, and which the tactical officers and the commandant of cadets, who stood by their horses at one side, had not planned or prepared for.
the last discharge of the morning's drill was yet ringing in the spectators' ears, and the sound barely had time to make its way down the road, before it was answered and flung back by another volley that was all the louder for its unexpectedness.
bang! bang!
the people turned and gazed in alarm. the cadet captain out upon the field stopped in the very midst of a command and leaned forward in his saddle to see; a sentry marching up the street forgot his orders and wheeled about in surprise. there was the wildest kind of excitement in a moment.
a horseman was racing up the road, galloping blindly ahead at full tilt. he wore the uniform of a cadet, and his face was red with excitement. he leaned forward over his horse, firing right and left into the air, while from his throat proceeded a series of yells such as no one in that vast crowd had ever heard before.
[pg 94]"wow! wow! whoop!"
there was no time for exclamations from the spectators, no time for questions or anything else. it was scarcely a second more before the wild rider was upon them and he drove straight through the crowd with the speed of an express train, neither he or his horse heeding any one.
the panic-stricken people fled in all directions, some of them barely escaping the flying animal's hoofs. and in a moment more he was out on the open plain, heading straight for the squadron.
"wow! wow!" yelled the rider. "expel me, will ye? what ye got them guns for, hey? hold up yer hands! whoop!"
shouting thus at the top of his lungs, he was almost upon the cadets when the frightened spectators heard another rattle of hoofs and another rider burst through the open space in full pursuit. it was mark, and he was desperate then, galloping even more furiously than the cowboy in front, for he knew that no one but he could ever stop texas now.
the amazement and fright of the spectators cannot be pictured; nor the anger of the officers who saw it all. these latter put spurs to their horses and galloped out to the two; but texas and mark behind him had already reached the dumfounded cadets.
[pg 95]texas had emptied the two revolvers in his hands, and he raced yelling across the plain. with a whoop he flung them at the nearest cadet, and whipping two more from his belt, opened fire point-blank.
"wow! whoop!" he howled. "expel me, will ye? take that!"
bang! bang!
half the horrified cadets turned to run; some dropped down behind the cannon and the horses, when texas fired there was not a man in sight.
mark was almost upon him when the first bullet struck. it hit one of the horses upon the flank, and tore a deep gash. the animal reared and snorted with terror. his companions in harness took the alarm, and almost at that same instant started on a wild dash across the field, the four of them whirling the heavy cannon along as if it had been a toy.
a few yards ahead was the end of the field, and there, crowded in a dense mass, people who had rushed to that side to avoid the texan's flying speed. and toward that surging, frightened mass the four horses plunged with might and main.
it was a terrible moment. those who saw the danger gasped, cried out in horror, but those who stood in the path of the flying steeds were too frightened to move. the move had come so suddenly, so unexpectedly. the[pg 96] crowd stood huddled together; the crash came before they had time to realize what was happening.
in the moment's excitement, the two horsemen had remained unnoticed. texas had seen the runaway, seen the crowd an instant later. through his confused and excited brain the consequences of his acts seemed to flash with the sharpness of a thunderbolt. he had acted with the quickness of a man who lives, knowing that at any moment he may be called upon to "pull his gun," and defend his life. he had wheeled his horse about, plunged his heels into the horse's sides, and at that moment was sweeping around in a wild race for the leaders of the runaway four.
quick as texas was, mark was a moment ahead of him. as he raced across the plain toward his friend he had seen the horses start and swerve and made for them, approaching from the opposite side to the texan.
all this had happened in the snapping of a finger—the dash of the four, and two racing from each side to head them off. and it was all over before the imperiled crowd could turn to flee.
texas was seen to leap out over his horse's head and seize the bridle of one of the leaders as he fell. the crowd saw mark's horse, dashing in from the other side, barely a foot from the mass of the spectators, crash into the texan's flying steed. they saw the horse go down;[pg 97] they saw mark disappear. and then in the crush that followed he was lost to sight beneath the plunging hoofs of the four.
there was a moment of blind confusion after that in which each one in the crowd had time to think and see for himself alone. the spectators were pushing wildly back before the onslaught of the approaching horses. several of the cadets and officers had sprung forward to seize the horses' heads; texas was clinging to the bridle with all his strength. and mark—mark's was the greatest peril of all. he had fallen over his horse's neck; he had seen the two leaders plunging toward him, stumbling over the body of his own prostrate horse, crushing down upon him—and then before his dazed eyes had swept a flying rein. he saw it, and clutched at it, as a drowning man might do; raised himself upon it with a mighty tug, and then a moment later was hurled far out over the plain, as the horse he clung to, stopped in its rush, went down in a heap with the cannon on top.
it was all over then. the spectators had been saved as by a miracle, the barrier interposed by mark's horse. and there was left a pale, half-fainting lot of people crowded around a tangled mass of horses and harness, with texas clinging to one of the bridles, unconscious from a wound in his head.
they loosened his deathlike grip, and laid him on the[pg 98] ground, while mark, having picked himself up in a more or less dazed condition, burrowed frantically through the crowd to reach his side.
"is he hurt? is he hurt?" he cried.
the surgeon was at that moment bending over the texan's body, where he had hurried as soon as he saw the accident.
"it is only a scratch," he said, hastily. "he will get well."
and mark breathed freely again; he turned pale, however, a moment later, as he saw the doctor, catching the odor of the lad's breath, shake his head and look serious.
"he knows! he knows!" mark muttered to himself, "and it is all up with poor texas."
they carried the lad over to the hospital; and then west point set to work to get over its amazement and alarm as best it could.
they cleared up the wreck for one thing. two of the horses had broken their legs and had to be led off and shot. the rest trotted behind the corps as it marched away—marched, for no amount of excitement could interfere with west point discipline. and then there was left down at that end of the cavalry plain only a crowd of curious people, with a scattering of army officers and plebes, all discussing excitedly the amazing happenings of scarcely five minutes ago, and wondering what on earth[pg 99] had taken possession of the two reckless cadets that had started all the trouble.
they looked for mark, but mark had disappeared while the excitement was at its height. he did not welcome the questions or the stares of the curious. moreover, he saw the superintendent, colonel harvey, excitedly questioning several of the staff about the matter. mark feared that the superintendent might turn upon him any moment, and he wanted time to think before that happened.
he dodged behind the library building, the parson with him, and made his way around to the now deserted camp. once beneath its protection, the two sat down and stared at each other in dismay. there was no need to say anything, for each knew how the other felt. texas was up the spout; mark was but little better off; and the universe was coming to an end.
that was all.
"well," said mark at last, "we're busted!"
and the parson assented with a solemn "yea, by zeus!" and relapsed into a glum silence again.
neither of them felt called upon to say anything after that; neither could think of the least thing to say. there wasn't a glimmering of hope—they were simply "busted," and that was all there was to it.
[pg 100]there is a saying that in multitude of council there is safety. the tent door was pushed aside a few minutes later and indian's lugubrious, tear-stained, horrified face peered in. indian followed, and seated himself in one corner, and then the tent relapsed into silence and solemnity once more.
three more disgruntled persons it would be hard to find, excepting possibly the other three of the banded seven, who at the moment were wandering disconsolately about the camp. the whole situation was so unutterably amazing, dumfounding. texas had often talked in his wild texas way about getting on a "rousing ole spree jest once," and of his intention to "hold up" the cadet battalion some fine day just for a joke; but nobody had ever taken him seriously. and now he had gone to work and done it, and killed two horses, and heaven only knew how many people besides—for who could say what the crazy cowboy might not have done down at highland falls? why, it made his friends shiver to think of the whole thing! but the situation only grew worse with the thinking; and the three in the tent stared at one another in undiminished consternation and despair.
"well," muttered mark a second time. "we're busted!"
and he had two to agree with him.
[pg 101]they would probably have sat there all morning if it had not been for a small drum orderly outside—the drum orderly sounded the "call to quarters," and a few minutes later the plebes were lined up in the company street, muskets in hand, for drill. and it did not take a very sharp eye to notice that every man in the class was staring curiously at mark mallory, the plebe who but a few minutes before had been riding across the parade ground in an attempt to put a whole artillery squadron to flight, and that, too, under the superintendent's very nose.
"i wonder if he's crazy?" muttered one.
"or drunk?" suggested another, laughing. "oh, say, but i'd hate to be in his place!"
which last sentiment was held unanimously by the class, and by the rest of the corps, too, as they scattered to their tents. a storm was going to break over mallory's head in a very, very short while, the cadets predicted.
the prediction proved to be true. one of the cadet officers had barely managed to run over the list of names at roll call before an orderly raced into camp and handed him a message. he read it, and then he read it again, aloud:
"cadet mallory will report to the superintendent at once."
[pg 102]and a moment later, while a murmur of excitement ran down the line, mark stepped out and hurried away down the street.
"the storm breaks now in just about five minutes," thought the corps.
