that beautiful july evening, while those precious rascals sat whispering and discussing the details of their plan, while first classmen and yearlings were all down in the academy building at the "hop," a certain plebe sat in a tent of company a, all by himself. a candle flickered beside him, and he held a writing pad in his hand. the plebe was mark, his clear-cut, handsome features shining in the yellow light.
"dear mother," he was writing. "it is hard for one to get time to write a letter here. we plebes have so much to do. but i have promised you to write once a week, and so i have stolen off from my friends to drop you a line.
"this is the fifth letter i have written now, the close of the fifth week. and i like west point as much as i ever did. you know how much that is. you know how i have worked and striven for this chance i have. west point has always been the goal of all my hopes, and i am still happy to have reached it. if i should forfeit my chance now, it would be by my own fault, i think; i know that it would break my heart.
"we plebes have to work hard nowadays. they wake us up at five with a big gun, and after that it is drill all day. but i like it, for i am learning lots of things. if[pg 266] you could see me sweeping and dusting i know you would laugh. texas says if 'the boys' saw him they'd lynch him 'sho'.
"i told you a lot about texas the last time i wrote. he is the most delightful character i have ever met in my life. he is just fresh from the plains, and his cowboy ways of looking at things keep me laughing all day. but he is just as true as steel, and as fine a friend as i ever knew.
"i believe i told you all about the banded seven, the secret society we have gotten up to stop hazing. well, we are having high jinks with 'the ole ya'rlin's,' as texas calls them. we have outwitted them at every point, and i think they are about ready to give up in despair. we plebes even went to the hop the other night. i can hear the music of the hop now as it comes over the parade ground. it is very alluring, so you must appreciate this letter all the more.
"i shan't tell you about the fight i had, for it would worry you. and i haven't time to tell you how i saved the life of a girl last week. i inclose a newspaper clipping about it, but you mustn't believe it was so absurdly heroic. the girl's father is a very rich man here, and, mother, she is very sweet and attractive. she has joined the seven to help me fool the yearlings.
"i guess i shall have to stop now. i hear some sounds that make me think it is time for tattoo, and besides, i am getting very homesick, writing to you way out in colorado. you need not be fearing any rival to my affections, mother dear, even if i am fond of grace fuller. i wish i could see you just once to-night to tell you how much i miss you. and i am still
"your devoted son,
"mark."
[pg 267]mark laid down his pencil with a sigh. he folded the letter and sealed it, and then arose slowly to his feet. outside of his tent he heard quick steps and voices, and a moment later the rattle of a drum broke forth.
"tattoo," he observed. "i thought so."
he turned toward the door as the flap was pushed aside—and a tall, slender lad entered, a lad with bronzed, sun-tanned features and merry gray eyes.
"hello, texas!" said mark.
"hello," growled texas. "look a yere! what do you mean by runnin' off an' hidin' all evenin'? i been a huntin' you everywhere."
"i've been right here," said mark, "writing a letter home. did you want me to go to the hop?"
"no, i didn't. but i wanted you to tell me all 'bout that crazy mary adams last night an' what you did. you ain't had time to tell me all day."
mark told him the story then. they were still discussing it when they turned out and lined up for roll call; and that ceremony being over, they scattered again, texas still eagerly asking questions about the strange affair.
taps sounded half an hour later—ten o'clock—"lights out and all quiet." they stopped then.
sentry no. 3 that night was "baby" edwards. his beat lay along the northern edge of the camp, skirting the[pg 268] tents of company a. and baby edwards let quite a number pass his beat that night.
for instance, he was on duty from midnight until two. it was bright moonlight then, and baby could have seen any one who crossed his post; but he heard a signaling whistle and faced out in order not to see any one. the person who entered was a boy clad in a blue uniform, an "orderly," as they are called.
he ran silently and swiftly in and made straight for one tent. when he got there he hesitated not a moment, but stepped in and crept up to one of the sleepers.
it was mark who awoke at his touch, and mark sat up in alarm and stared at him.
"sh!" said the boy. "sh! don't wake any one."
"what do you want?" mark demanded.
"i've a letter, sir, a letter from her again."
mark stared at the boy and recognized him at once as a messenger who had given him a note from mary adams about a month ago. and he sprang to his feet in surprise.
"she writing again!" he whispered. "quick, give it to me."
he broke the seal, stepped to the tent door, where, in the white moonlight, he could read every letter plainly. and this was what he saw:[pg 269]
"dear mr. mallory: oh, once more i have to write you to call upon you for aid. you cannot imagine the terrible distress i am in. and i have no one to call upon but you. if you respect me as a woman, come to my aid to-night and at once. and come alone, for i could not bear to have any one but you know of my terrible affliction. oh, please do not fail me! you may imagine my state of mind when i write you like this. and let me call myself
your friend,
"mary adams."
mark finished the reading of that letter in amazement, even alarm.
"did she give you this?" he demanded of the boy.
"yes, sir, she did, not five minutes ago," replied the lad. "and she told me to run. she seemed scared to death, sir, and i know she'd been crying."
mark stared into his earnest face a moment, and then he turned away in thought.
"you may go," he said to the boy. "i know my way to her house alone."
the lad disappeared; and mark, without a moment's hesitation, went over and woke one of the cadets.
"wake up, texas," he whispered. "wake up and read this."
texas arose from his couch in surprise and sleepy alarm. he read the letter, gasping; then he stared at mark.
"do you think she wrote it?" he inquired.
[pg 270]that problem was puzzling mark, too. he had received two letters before from the girl, under exactly similar circumstances. one had been a trick of the cadets to lure him out. the other had been genuine, and had resulted in mark's saving the girl's brother from disgrace and ruin. but which was this?
mark made up his mind quickly.
"i think she wrote it, old man," he said. "the drum boy who gave me this gave me the other she wrote, too, and he swears she wrote this. he said she was frightened and crying. texas, she lives way off there with her old mother, who's blind and helpless. and there's no telling what may have happened to her. just see how urgent that note is. i must go, old man. i'd be a coward if i didn't. she don't know a soul to call on but me."
and mark, generous and noble to a fault, had turned and begun to fling on his clothing. texas was doing likewise.
"i'm a-goin' too," he vowed.
"she says not," whispered mark.
"i know," was the answer. "she ain't a-goin' to know it. i'm a-goin' in case it's them ole yearlin's. ef i see it's all right, and she wrote it, i reckon i kin sneak home."
nothing could deter the faithful and vigilant texan from his resolution, and when mark stole out of his tent his friend was at his heels. they passed the sentry,[pg 271] baby edwards, with the usual signal, mark fooled for once, was chuckling at his deception, thinking baby thought them yearlings. but baby knew who it was, and laughed.
the two, once clear of camp, set out on a dead run. they dashed across the cavalry plain and down the road to highland falls. it was nearly a mile to where mary adams lived, but mark never stopped once, not even when he came to the dreaded cadet limits, to be found beyond which meant court-martial and dismissal in disgrace. he took the risk grimly, however, and ran on. when they finally reached the girl's house the texan was panting and exhausted.
"you stay there," whispered mark, pointing to a clump of bushes nearby.
texas crouched behind them, and doubled his fists in determination. mark just as promptly stepped up to the door and softly rapped.
there was a light in one of the rooms on the ground floor. the curtain was carefully drawn, but texas, watching closely, saw a shadow swiftly flit across. and just after that the door was flung open, and the girl stood before them.
"i knew you would come!" texas heard her cry. "oh, thank fortune!"
then mark stepped inside, and the door shut again.
[pg 272]texas waited in suspense and curiosity. he did not know how long mark might be in there, but he was resolved to stick it out. then suddenly, to his surprise, the door was opened again, and mark and the girl stepped out.
she was leaning upon his arm, and hurrying him forward quickly. she was evidently in great distress, and from what the hidden listener heard, mark was striving his best to comfort her. the two figures hurried across the clearing and vanished in the woods. texas arose from his position.
"i reckon it's all right," he muttered. "it's blamed mysterious, but there's nothin' mo' fo' me to do."
and suiting the action to the word the faithful southerner turned and set out rapidly for camp.
mark, when he entered mary adams' house, found her standing before him, a picture of misery and fright. he demanded to know what was wrong.
"come, come!" the girl cried. "quick. i cannot tell you. oh! come and see."
she flung a shawl about her shoulders, seized mark by the arm in a convulsive grip, and together they hurried through the woods.
it was a little footpath they followed. mark had no idea where they were going in the deep black darkness. he abandoned himself entirely to the girl's guidance,[pg 273] trusting that no slight matter could have taken her there, and he was right.
the girl said not a word during the trip. she kept her face hidden in the shawl, and only a sob told mark the state of her feelings. he was growing more mystified and curious every moment.
on, on they went. they must have been hurrying continually for at least five minutes, the girl dragging the cadet faster and faster, when suddenly she turned and left the path.
there was a dense thicket before them; she paused not a moment to hesitate, but plunged into the midst of it. the briars tore her clothing and hands, but she forced her way in. and when they were in the very center, without a word, she stopped and faced about.
she pushed aside her veil and hair and stared wildly at mark. he gazed at her blood-red, burning cheeks and saw her black eyes glitter.
"what is the matter?" he cried.
she made not a sound, but suddenly to mark's infinite horror flung herself upon him and wrapped her arms about his neck.
"why, miss adams," he gasped. "i——"
his words stuck in his throat. his surprise changed to the wildest dismay and consternation. for he felt a pair of sinewy arms flung about his ankles, binding his[pg 274] feet together as in a vise. he had only one free arm, the other being bound to his chest with the bandages of the surgeon; the free arm was seized by the wrist with a grip that almost crushed it. and to his mouth another pair of hands were pressed, making outcry impossible as it would have been futile anyway.
mark was as motionless and helpless as if he had been turned to stone!
the swift emotions that surged through his excited brain defy description. he saw the plot in an instant, apprehended it in all its fiendish heartlessness; and he knew that he was ruined. he could not see behind him; he could not identify his assailants; but he was sure they were cadets, bull and his crowd leagued with this wretched girl to play upon his kind-heartedness.
and that girl! oh, what a figure she was! she made no attempt to hide herself, however much bull harris might. she stood before her helpless victim's eyes a perfect figure of vengeance and triumph.
there is a famous painting by sichel of the grecian sorceress, medea. the woman is standing clad in white that contrasts with her jet black hair. in one hand, half hidden, she clutches a shining dagger; her mouth is set in a firm, determined way, and her eyes are dark and gleaming. imagine that figure in the moment of victory, every[pg 275] feature convulsed with joy, with hatred gratified, and that is the girl mary adams. she was dancing about mark in fury, flinging her hands in his face, taunting him, jeering at him, threatening him so as to frighten even the desperate cadets.
they, meanwhile, were working quickly; they bound his legs together, his arms to his side. they forced a gag into his mouth, and then lastly shut off his view of the wildly shrieking girl by tying a handkerchief about his eyes. and then they tumbled him to the ground and turned away and left him.
mary adams stayed behind them a moment to vent her fury upon the helpless prisoner.
"satisfied!" she cried. "how do you like it? i told you i would have revenge. i told you i hated you! and now, and now it is mine! you are mine, too! do you hear me? i can do what i please with you!"
mark could not see her, but he felt a stinging pain in his cheek and he felt the warm blood flow.
the girl's sharp heel had cut his flesh. and a moment later he heard a low voice mutter:
"come away, you fool! come on."
they dragged her reluctantly with them. mark heard the steps recede into the distance, heard the silence settling down about the place. they had left him alone, de[pg 276]serted and helpless, lost in the midst of the woods, left him to die for all he knew, certainly to be missed, to be expelled, to be ruined.
and the poor fellow groaned within him as he realized the triumph of his enemies.
