CHAPTER IX.
HEROISM OF THE PARSON.
The cadets of the academy are organized into a fire department for thesafety of the post. It is the duty of the cadets upon the sounding ofthe alarm--three strokes of the bell, or a long roll on the drum, orthree shots, as the case may be--to fall into line immediately andproceed to the scene of the fire. One brigade has charge of a handengine, another forms a bucket line, etc.
West Point was, of course, thrown into the wildest excitement on theinstant that the cry was raised. The cadets poured in from everydirection, and in a few moments were on the way at double-quick. Armyofficers, the soldiers of the regular army at the post, infantry andcavalry, all made for the scene.
The Observatory Building was found to be in imminent peril, apparently;there were no flames in sight, but smoke was pouring from every crevice.Prompt and quick to act, some heroic young cadet leaped up the steps andburst in the door with an ax, though it was not locked and needed onlya turn of the knob to open it. The moment an opening was made a cloud ofsmoke burst forth that drove the party back before it, and at the sameinstant a cry of horror swelled up from the fast-arriving crowd.
With one accord everybody glanced up to one of the windows on the floorabove. There stood a figure, nothing but the head visible in the smoke,a figure of a badly-frightened lad, yelling at the top of his lungs forhelp! help! help! And the crowd gazed at him in terror. It was Indian,apparently in peril of his life!
Who should save him? Who? The thought was in everybody's mind at themoment, and yet every one hesitated before that barrier of blindingsmoke. And then--then suddenly a roar of cheers and shouts swelled up asa hero came to the fore. When every one else trembled this hero alonewas bold. He had dashed wildly from the woods, a tall, lanky,long-haired figure. He had fought his way through the craven crowd, hiscoat tails flying and his long elbows working. He had dashed up thesteps, his light green socks twinkling with every stride. And now, whilethe crowd shouted encouragement, he plunged desperately into the thickof the smoke and was lost to view.
The crowd waited in breathless suspense--one minute--two--and still theimperiled lad stood at the window and the hero did not appear. Could itbe that he was lost--overcome by smoke and flame? The throng below hatedto think of it and yet--no, there he was! At the doorway again! Had hefailed to accomplish his noble purpose? Had he been driven back from thework of rescue? No! No! He had succeeded; he had gotten what he wanted!As he dashed wildly out again the people saw that he carried under hisarm a great, leather-bound volume.
"Dana's Geology" was safe!
And a moment or two later somebody put up a ladder and the unfortunate"Mormon" climbed down in haste.
Meanwhile, what of the fire? Encouraged by the example of the "hero,"the cadets rushed in to the attack. But, strange to say, though they hadhand engines and buckets and ladders, they could find no fire to attack.Several windows having been smashed, most of the smoke had escaped bythis time--there had really been but very little of it, anyway, justenough for excitement. There is a saying that where there is smokethere must be flame, and, acting on this rather dubious statement, thegallant fire brigade hunted high and low, searching in every nook andcorner of the building, and even searching the desk drawers to see ifperchance the cunning fire had run away and hidden there. And still nota sign of flame.
The mystery got more and more interesting; the whole crowd came in--thesmoke having all gone by this time--to see if, perchance, a little morediligent search might not aid; and the people kept coming until finallythe place was so packed that there was no room for the fire anyway. Andso finally every one gave it up in disgust and went home, including thegallant fire brigade. And the three conspirators in the woods went, too,scarcely able to hide their glee.
"It's jest one on them ole cadets!" vowed Texas.
Of course, the Army Board ordered a strict investigation, which wasmade--and told nothing. All that was found was a few bits of brokenglass in one room, and an "examination paper" in another. Indian washauled up, terrified, to explain; he described his hazing, butsteadfastly refused names--which was good West Point etiquette--hevowed he knew nothing about the fire--which was the truth--also WestPoint etiquette. And since Indian was mum, and there was no one else toinvestigate, the investigation stopped, and the affair remained a WestPoint mystery--a mystery to all but three.