A Cadet's Honor: Mark Mallory's Heroism

  CHAPTER XII.

  THE EMBASSY OF THE PARSON.

  "What's happened?" cried Texas, as soon as he'd managed to get calmenough to talk coherently. "What's happened?"

  "Sit down," said Mark, laughing in spite of himself. "Sit down and stopyour dancing. Everybody in the place is staring at you."

  Texas sat, and then Mark described to him just what had happened. Asmight have been expected, he was up in arms in a moment.

  "Where is that feller? Now, look a 'yere, Mark, leggo me. Thar he goes!Say, if I don't git him by the neck an'----"

  The excitable youth was quieted after some ten minutes' work or so, andimmediate danger was over.

  "And now," said Mark, "where's the Parson?"

  "Over in library," responded the other, "a fossilizin'. What do you wantwith him?"

  "You be good," said Mark, "and I'll let you see. Come on."

  They found the Parson as Texas had said, and they managed to separatehim from the books and drag him over to barracks. Then Mark, who by thistime had recovered his usual easy good-nature, told of "Mr. Murray's"insult again.

  "Now, I haven't the least objection," he continued, "of being sent toCoventry. In fact, so long as it means the cadets' leaving me alone, Irather like the idea. But I don't propose to stand a thing like thatwhich just happened for a moment. So there's got to be a fight, and ifthey won't let me, I'll have to make 'em, that's all."

  "Um," said the Parson, looking grave. "Um."

  "Now, as for that fellow Murray," added Mark, "I don't propose to fighthim."

  "Wow!" shouted Texas. "What in thunder do you mean? Now if you don't, byjingo! I'll go and do it myself!"

  "Take it easy," said Mark, laughing. "You see, Williams is the man theclass has selected to beat me; he's the best fighter. Now, if I beatanybody else it won't do me the least bit of good; they'd still say I'mafraid of Williams. So I'm going to try him first. How's that, Texas?"

  "Reckon you're right," admitted Powers, rather sheepishly. "I 'sposeyou'll let me go and arrange it, hey?"

  "I'd as soon think of sending a dynamite bomb," laughed Mark. "You'd bein a fight before he'd said three words. That's what I wanted the Parsonfor. I think he'd be grave and scholarly even if they ate him."

  "Thank you," said the Parson, gravely. "I should try."

  "Wow!" growled Texas.

  And thus it happened that the Parson set out for "Camp McPherson," ashort while later, his learned head full of prize fighting and themethods and practice of diplomacy.

  It was rather an unusual thing for a plebe to do--this venturing into"camp;" and the cadets stared at the Parson, wondering what an amount ofcuriosity he must have to go prospecting within the lines of the enemy.The Parson, however, did not act as if curiosity had brought him; with abusinesslike air and a solemn visage he strode down the company street,and, heedless of the cadets who had gathered at the tent doors to seehim, halted in front of one before which he saw "Billy" Williamsstanding.

  "Mr. Williams?" said the Parson.

  Mr. Williams had been engaged in vigorously drying his face; he paused,and gazed up out of the towel in surprise, and one of his tent mates,Cadet Captain Fischer, ceased unwinding himself from his long red sashand stared.

  "My name is Stanard," said the Parson--"Peter Stanard."

  "Pleased to meet you," said Williams, stretching out a long, brawny arm.

  There was a twinkle in the yearling's eye as he glanced at the skinnywhite fingers which Stanard put out in return. And, taking in thestranger's lank, scholarly figure, Williams seized the hand and squeezedwith all his might.

  He expected to hear a howl, but he was disappointed. The Parson drew uphis "prehensile muscles," as he called them. The result was that CadetWilliams turned white, but he said nothing about it, and invited thestranger into his tent.

  The Parson deposited himself gently in one corner and drew up his longlegs under him. Then he gazed out of the tent and said--"ahem!"

  "Warm day," said Williams, by way of a starter.

  "It is not that the temperature is excessively altitudinous," respondedthe Parson, "but the presence of a larger proportion of humidity retardsperspiratory exudation."

  "Er--yes," said Williams. "Yes, I think that's it."

  "I have come--ahem!" continued Stanard, "as a representative of Mr.Mallory."

  The other bowed.

  "Mr. Mallory desires to know--if you will pardon my abruptness inproceeding immediately to the matter in hand--to know if it is notpossible for you to fulfill a certain--er--engagement which you had withhim."

  "I see," said Williams, thoughtfully, and he tapped the floor with hisfoot for a minute or so.

  "Mr. Mallory, of course, understands," he continued at last, "that Ihave no grudge against him at all."

  "Certainly," said the Parson.

  "In fact, I rather admire Mr. Mallory, on the whole, though some of hisactions have been, I think, imprudent. In this matter I am simply thedeputy of the class."

  "Exactly," said the Parson, bowing profusely.

  "Therefore, I fight when the class says so, and when they say no, whatreason have I for fighting? Now, the class thinks that Mr. Mallory hashad chance enough, and----"

  "But they don't know the circumstances!" protested Stanard, with moresuddenness than was usual with him.

  "They do not," responded the other. "But they'd like to."

  "I do not know them myself," said the Parson. "But I have faith enoughin Mr. Mallory to take his word that it was unavoidable."

  "You must have a good deal," added Williams, his handsome face lookinggrave, "a good deal to risk being sent to Coventry."

  "I am willing. Examples of yet higher devotion to a _fides amicus_, soto speak, are by no means extraordinary. Take the popular instance ofDamon and Pythias, or, if you look for one yet more conspicuous, I wouldmention Prylocates and Tyndarus, in the well-known play of 'TheCaptive,' by Plautus, with which you are doubtless familiar."

  And the Parson closed his learned discourse with his favorite occupationof wiping his brow.

  "The risk is your own," responded the yearling, calmly. "You must notmind if the class resents your view of the case."

  There was a few moments' silence after that, during which the Parsonracked his head to think what to say next.

  "You refuse, then, to fight Mr. Mallory?" he inquired at last.

  "Absolutely!" responded the other. "Absolutely, until the class sodirects."

  Then the Parson drew a long breath, and prepared for the culminatingstroke.

  "What I say next, Mr. Williams," said he, "you will understand is saidwith all possible politeness and good feeling, but it must be said. Mr.Mallory has been insulted by some cadets as a coward. He must freehimself from the suspicion. Mr. Williams, if a plebe should strike anolder cadet, would that make a fight necessary?"

  "Most certainly," said Williams, flushing.

  "Well, now, suppose he simply threatened to do so," continued Stanard."Would that be cause enough?"

  "It might."

  "Well, then, Mr. Williams, Mr. Mallory desires me with all politenessto beg permission to threaten to strike you."

  "I see," said the other, smiling at the solemn air with which the lankstranger made this extraordinary request. "I see. I have no objection tohis so doing."

  "Thank you," said Stanard. "A fight is now necessary, I believe?"

  "Er--yes," said Williams. "I believe it is." The fact of the matter wasthat he saw that Mark was in a position to force a fight if he chose,and the yearling was by no means reluctant, anyhow.

  "I thank you for your courtesy," he continued, bowing Stanard out of thetent. "Tell Mr. Mallory that I shall send my second to see him thisevening. Good-day."

  And Stanard bowed and strode away with joy in his very stride.

  "We have met the enemy," was his report to Mark. "We have met the enemy,and there's going to be a fight!"