Dick Prescott's Second Year at West Point by H. Irving Hancock (feel good books to read .txt) 📖

in these fireplaces come up as easily as a naval apprentice's dinner. Anse, we've got to work at this brick until we have loose. It surely hides something."

"We mustn't damage either the wooden or brick flooring," warned
Furlong. "If we did find anything, after all, think of the row
Dodge could raise over the vandalism in his room."

So the time slipped by, faster than any of them knew. But these five cadets, now satisfied that the obdurate brick really did hide a secret toiled on with no thought of surrender.

At last they struck the combination. The brick back of the one that so resisted their efforts was finally pried up, after a good deal of effort. This opening laid bare a neat but powerful spring.

Had they had, at the outset, the whole secret of this spring, they could have raised the resisting brick in a second's time.

"Get it up—-must have a look!" cried Prescott hoarsely.

It was Greg who raised the brick that had resisted their efforts for so long. Underneath Cadet Holmes found a collection of things that chained the attention of all, as each took eager looks in turn.

"Going to put the stuff back, for the present?" asked Anstey, with an odd quiver in his voice The honorable Virginian was upset by what he had seen.

"Not never!" retorted Greg with ungrammatical emphasis. "It won't be just the thing for old ramrod and myself to have it, either. Milesy, you and Dunstan take it along with you. Now, old ramrod, just what had we better do?"

"I don't see anything for it but to root out again after taps and the subdivision inspector's visit tonight," muttered Dick, who was alternately pale and flushed over the discovery, and all that it meant. "Gentlemen, will you come softly to my room fifteen minutes after the sub-division inspector's official visit at taps?"

Greg and Anstey restored the bricked flooring of the fireplace so that nothing indicated the late search.

Then, Dunstan and Furlong carrying away the discovered stuff, the five prowlers turned out the gas and separated.

CHAPTER XXIII THE "COMMITTEE ON CLASS HONOR"

At a few minutes after eleven, that same April night, five cadets fully dressed stole down the corridor, and the leader laid a hand on Dodge's doorknob.

In another moment they had stepped inside and their arrival awakened
Cadet Brayton.

"Plebes' quarters next floor up, brothers," called Brayton in drowsy good nature.

"I'm sorry to say, Brayton, we're on the right floor, and in the right room," responded Dunstan. "But this visit won't bother you!"

The noise of voices awoke Bert Dodge with start. He awoke with a snort, then sat bolt upright, peering in the dark.

"Wh—-who's there?" he demanded hoarsely.

"A committee on class honor, Mr. Dodge," replied Furlong, while
Anstey added, with ironic politeness:

"Don't be alahmed, suh. We do not believe you to be possessed, suh, of any of the commodity of which we are in search."

"Brayton" asked Greg, "will you be good enough to slip into your bathrobe and hang your blankets over the window? Then we can have some light. That's one thing we're going to need," he added significantly.

"Don't you do it, Bray," broke in Dodge stiffly. "As for you fellows, the best thing you can all do is to go back to your cradles. Bray and I want to sleep the night through. And you've no business here, anyway."

"I'm afraid you've missed the point, suh?" replied Anstey with bored patience. "That is exactly why we're here, suh—-because we have business here."

Brayton had slipped into his bathrobe and was now crossing the room with blankets on one arm.

"Chase 'em out, Bray; don't hang any blankets for them to run a light behind," begged Dodge.

"I'm afraid I'd better," murmured Brayton, as he stood on a chair and reached up to put the blankets in place. Didn't you hear the announcement that this is a committee of honor? The class has a right to send one to any man, and Prescott, the class president, is here. There, those blankets will hold and shut in all light. Turn on the gas, Holmesy, if you will."

"You'd better get into robe and slippers, too, Mr. Dodge," hinted Dunstan strongly. "Our business is with you, and I think you'll feel more at ease on your feet."

"What is all this nonsense about, anyway growled Dodge, as he slipped out of bed and wrapped himself in his dressing gown.

"That's what we'll ask you to explain," retorted Greg. "But let us go about this in a regular manner. In the first place, Brayton, please understand that you are not being investigated. It is Mr. Dodge who is under suspicion."

"Yes; under fine suspicion!" snarled Dodge. "You mean I'm to be the victim of a plot hatched by my two old enemies back in the home town."

But Greg, ignoring him, turned to his chum.

"Dick, old ramrod, as you're the aggrieved one, I don't suppose you can exactly act as class president in this case. But you can designate some other member of the class to act in your place."

"Then I'll name Mr. Anstey," replied Dick. "I believe he will be satisfactory to everyone."

"Not to me!" snapped Bert Dodge, his uneasy gaze roving from one face to another. "The class president can't name his own substitute."

"Silence!" commanded Brayton, turning on his roommate. "Of course the class president can delegate his duties, temporarily, to another."

"Take this matter in charge, Mr. Anstey," begged Dick, turning to the Virginian.

"Mr. Dodge," continued the Virginian, "be good enough, suh, to pay good heed to what I have to say. That will be necessary, in fairness to yourself, suh. I'll begin at the beginning."

Anstey began with the handkerchief-borrowing episode in barracks area. He dwelt upon the accusation against Cadet Prescott, the court-martial, and the further fact that even the verdict of acquittal had not, at first, been fully accepted by all members of the corps of cadets clearing Dick of the fearful suspicion against his honor.

"What has all this to do with me?" snarled Dodge. "Is Prescott trying to revive his old and infamous hints against me?

"Wait a moment, Mr. Dodge," continued Anstey patiently. "Now will now move along to the drill in the riding hall yesterday afternoon."

Anstey then described the bared cuff that Prescott had seen on
Dodge's left wrist.

"That's a lie," rasped out Dodge.

But Anstey heeded him not; Prescott merely smiled. But the sight of that smile maddened Dodge, who sprang up, crying:

"Yes! You think you have it all cooked up against me, Dick Prescott!
But you'll find that truth and right will win."

Dick did not answer, but Anstey, looking impressively at the culprit, declared:

"Mr. Dodge, tonight, while you were away, we pried up that brick!"

Every vestige of color fled from Bert's face. He seemed about to fall, but he clutched at the chair back and remained standing.

"Of course, Mr. Dodge, you know what we found there. Brayton, you don't so you will interested in seeing the things. Milesy, be good enough to spread the collection on that table. Here, you see, first of all, is the cuff of yesterday. Even the writing, in India ink, remains on it. And here are reddish stains, made by the impact of that cuff with the tan-bark of the riding hall. Here are slips of paper on which the main features of the hardest math. problems of each day have been noted down, ready for writing on a cuff. Here is the water-proof ink and the pen with which the writing on the cuff was done. And here are some other slips of paper, evidently older, on which other problems have been written out more fully. These older slips of paper contain problems of last November and early December—-the time when Prescott was in his deep trouble. Now, these older slips are of paper just like the piece that fell from the handkerchief that Prescott took out of his blouse on that tragic day. Somewhere in the files the authorities have that slip that figured in the charges at Prescott's trial by general court-martial. I imagine, on comparison, that slip will be found to be on paper identical with these slips containing older problems. And you will note that these older slips are written on with a typewriting machine, with crude figures drawn in, just as in the case of the slip that figured Prescott's trial. Now, Mr. Dodge, isn't it plain to even the dullest mind that you have been systematically cribbing at math., and that it is to that fact you owe your present high standing in the yearling class?"

"Now that I think of it," remarked Brayton, turning and fixing his roommate with a frigid, hostile stare, "I have, on at least two occasions, entered this room just in time to see Mr. Dodge spring up hastily from near the fireplace. But I am a dull-witted fellow, I suppose, and I didn't suspect.

"Have you anything to say, Mr. Dodge?" demanded Anstey.

"Nothing," barely gasped the detected wretch.

"Then I will say something instead, suh," continued the Virginian. "I would rather the task fell to someone else, but this work has been delegated to me, and I must see it through, suh. Mr. Dodge, we are all satisfied that you are a miserable, lying, sneaking hound, suh, not worthy to associate with gentlemen. We are satisfied, suh, that you are without honor or principle, and that you will never be fit to become an officer of the Army."

"Now, see here, fellows," broke in Dodge in a whining tone, "if you'll be generous and give me another chance, I can live this down."

"Then you admit that which we have been stating against you, do you, suh?" questioned the Virginian. "It will be best for you to be wholly honest, suh!

"Yes—-yes—-I—-admit—-it," cried Dodge brokenly. "But I didn't deliberately plan for Prescott's undoing—-on my honor, I didn't! What happened was this: When I took Prescott's handkerchief with one hand, I had that crib in the other hand. After using the handkerchief, I found that I couldn't pass it back without either letting the crib be seen, or else tucking the crib into the handkerchief. So I had to do the latter thing. But that was as far as I was guilty—-on my honor, gentlemen!"

"Then you expect us to believe in the honor of a cadet who dishonors himself by sneaking cribs into a section room?" demanded Anstey with mild but withering sarcasm.

"Give me just one more chance, gentlemen!" faltered Dodge. "I pledge you my word that, henceforth, I'll do everything that is creditable and honorable, and nothing that isn't!"

"We have a somewhat different proposition for you, Mr. Dodge," observed the Virginian. "We want no more of your stripe. We would degrade the entire Army, and the whole people of the United States of America if we allow you to remain here. Tomorrow, at an early hour, you will hand in your resignation as a cadet, to take effect upon acceptance. If you fail, we will lay before the superintendent and the commandant of cadets all the evidence that we have against you, including your own confession. You will then have to face a general court-martial and be dismissed from the service in the deepest disgrace that can come to a cadet."

Bert Dodge sank to his knees, holding his clasped hands up before him.

"Don't insist on that, gentlemen! Don't! Spare me the disgrace!
Spare my parents!

"Mr. Dodge," replied Anstey sternly, "honor is the watchword in the United States Military Academy, and all through the Army. We couldn't spare a dishonorable wretch like you, suh, without sharing in your disgrace. And I have not told you all that we require. As soon as you have gone to your home you will write a letter to the superintendent, exonerating Mr. Prescott from all suspicion in that fearful affair. You will admit that you alone were guilty. According to custom, that letter will be read before the battalion in special orders and the entire corps will then know how fully Cadet Prescott is worthy of being one of us."

"Write that letter?" demanded Dodge, leaping to his feet, but cowering. "Never!