CHAPTER I.
A LOSS OF TEMPER.
"Battalion, right forward, fours right, march! Guide left!"
The command was sharp, distinct, soldierly. The first set of foursmoved straight to the front with unhesitating firmness and uniformityof step; the orderly sergeant took his place to the left of the setwith ease and rapidity. The remainder of the battalion broke intofours, wheeling to the right with promptness and precision, and in thenext moment the entire column was on the march.
The Riverpark Academy corps of cadets were the best-drilled troopsoutside of West Point. The uniform was dark blue; the belts, gloves,and shoulder-belts were white, and the breastplates were of polishedbrass. The barrels of the cadets' muskets glittered in the Aprilsunlight, as they marched and counter-marched, wheeled to the right andleft, marked time, and halted.
There was a short interval of rest. The boys in the ranks talkedfreely, laughed, shouted at one another, leaning out from the line todo so, making strenuous efforts, nevertheless, to keep one foot inplace, according to the rule.
Major Drumlist, the drill-master, wiped the perspiration from his face,exchanged a few words with the members of his staff, and then calledthe troops to attention.
He divided the battalion into four platoons, and placed each platoonin charge of an officer, with directions to instruct the men morethoroughly in the art of wheeling. Upton's infantry tactics, which hadrecently been adopted in the United States Army, had but lately comeinto use at Riverpark; and as the excellence of the new system dependedlargely on the perfection attained in the wheelings, it seemednecessary to give much time and attention to that particular branch.
The third platoon, in the absence of Lieutenant Smeath, of CompanyB, was placed in charge of Adjutant Brightly, who marched his mento the southerly part of the parade-ground, and began a systematicdrill, as directed. The adjutant was a lad of sixteen years. Hewas well-proportioned, stood erect, and looked the typical soldierthroughout. He was well versed in the tactics and an excellentdrill-master, but it was apparent that to-day he had little heart inhis task. The men in the ranks noticed his indifference, and tookadvantage of it. The major came down to them in his round of inspection.
"Lieutenant Brightly," he said, "you are too easy with your men to-day.Give your commands as though you meant they should be obeyed, and seethat strict discipline is maintained in the ranks."
This admonition roused the lad's spirit,--not so much a spirit ofemulation as of impatience at reproof. As the major passed on to thenext platoon, Brightly became more strict; but his severity was nowapparently without effect. The loose discipline of the first tenminutes had so demoralized the men that they were awkward and slow, andit seemed impossible to keep them in good alignment while they were inmotion. Now the centre would bow out and then in; now the pivot wouldturn too rapidly, or the flank break away and come crowding up withbroken step. Nothing went well. The adjutant became heated, annoyed,impatient, and finally quite lost his temper.
There was one man near the centre of the line who particularly vexedhim. He was constantly either too far to the front or to the rear, orbreaking touch toward the guiding flank. Brightly had spoken severelyto him several times. At last he said,--
"Belcher, if you don't do better, I shall send you to the awkwardsquad. You are a disgrace to your company."
The boy looked out angrily from the ranks, and made as if to reply.
"Stop!" exclaimed the officer. "Not a word! There's no possible excusefor you. You have eyes; you can see. You have arms; you can keep touch.Now pay attention to your duties."
Again the platoon was wheeled, and again Belcher pushed out ahead ofthe line, and broke it hopelessly in the centre. Brightly, who was atthe pivot, watching the alignment, was exasperated beyond endurance. Hepassed swiftly down the front, and struck the flat of his sword againstBelcher's breastplate with force enough to make it clatter.
"Keep back!" he shouted; "keep back! An idiot would know enough to keepthe line!"
The platoon was no sooner halted than Belcher stepped one pace to thefront, and brought his hand up against his musket at the shoulder witha force that made it rattle, thus signifying his desire to speak.
"Step back into the ranks, sir!" ordered Brightly. "Take your place,I say!" as the lad hesitated. "I'll do what talking's to be done, andyou'll obey orders!"
Belcher stepped back, muttering angrily, his face pale with passion andhis eyes flashing fiercely.
Up by the color-staff the bugle sounded the recall. The officersmarched their platoons to common ground, wheeled them into line, andreported to the major. The battalion was then broken into companies,and these were marched to company grounds and dismissed by the firstsergeants.
Lieutenant Brightly crossed the parade-ground leisurely, entered theacademy building, mounted three flights of stairs, and passed to hisroom in the southwest angle. He threw his cap, gloves, and sword on thebed, drew a chair to the window, seated himself, and looked listlesslyout.
The beautiful landscape, with the Hudson River in the distance, hadlittle attraction for him. Indeed, nothing interested him that hecould see either on land or water. It was evident that his mind waspreoccupied, and the look of discontent and discouragement on his faceshowed that his thoughts were not pleasant ones.
There was a quick step in the hall, and presently Harple came intothe room. Harple was Brightly's room-mate. He and Brightly had roomedtogether for nearly two years, and aside from little wordy encounterscarried on in jest rather than in earnest, they had never had aquarrel. Harple was captain of Company B. He was a good soldier, a goodstudent, a good fellow, and as fond of Brightly as if they had beenbrothers.
"Come on, Bright!" he exclaimed, as he entered. "Roberts and I aregoing to get a permit for a walk, and we're going down to the pinegrove. Come along with us; it's a charming day, and we'll have a goodtime."
"Oh, I don't care about going out this afternoon, Charley; I'm tooindolent. Besides, I have some letters to write;" and Brightly threwhis arms up and locked his fingers behind his head with a yawn.
"I'll tell you what it is," responded Harple, earnestly, "you'll getindolent and careless and everything else if you keep on in this way.You haven't been out of the grounds for a week; you haven't studieda lesson with vim for a fortnight; you haven't cared for three monthswhether school kept or not. I tell you, Bright, you've got to brace up.If you keep this thing going much longer, you'll wake up some day andfind yourself--"
The speaker paused for an appropriate word; then snapping his thumb andforefinger high in the air in such a way as to indicate something beingsent whirling into space, he continued, "eliminated. Now you know whatthat means."
Brightly looked up, evidently annoyed.
"I haven't asked you for any advice, have I, Charley?" he said.
"No, but I propose to give you some, all the same," responded Harple,throwing his red-silk officer's sash across the foot of his bed, andseating himself astride the only other chair in the room. "I've hadthis thing on my mind for some time," he continued; "and to-day,when I saw you make such a fool of yourself with Belcher--pardon theexpression--I concluded to let out on you.
"I can't conceive what you're thinking of, Bright! For a year and ahalf you were _the_ A No. 1 fellow in this school; but for four months,without any reasonable cause, you've stood still in your tracks. You'vekept up with your classes because you couldn't help it; but you'vesat and moped and growled till you're fossilized and moulded, and themoss is growing on you. To-day you woke up long enough to get into anundignified squabble with a private in the ranks, and now you're goingto drop off to sleep again. Brace up, Bright! For goodness' sake, braceup, and don't let yourself go to the dogs this way!"
Brightly looked a little surprised at first, then slightly indignant,and then, with a forced air of weariness, he replied,--
"Don't worry about me, Charley. I feel fully competent to take care ofmyself." After a moment's pause, he continued with more vigor: "But Iwill be obeye
d in the ranks. Belcher was obstinate and ugly. I lost allpatience with him, and I went further than I ought; I admit that, butthe circumstances were a sufficient excuse."
"No, they were not. They were aggravating; so much the more reason whyyou should hold your temper. You remember Colonel Silsbee warned us,when we were commissioned, to exercise patience as well as firmness,and to--"
"Oh, don't quote Colonel Silsbee to me! If he doesn't want me toreprove his blockheads he's not obliged to keep me in commission. Hemight as well have left me in the ranks in the first place, so far asthat is concerned."
Harple drew his chair a trifle nearer.
"Bright, look here! I know what the trouble is; it's all about thatmatter of the appointments. You ought to have been captain of CompanyA,--I admit that freely; you deserved it on every account; but what'sthe use in giving up to disappointment? You have a good thing as itis. There isn't a more showy, responsible, soldierly position in thebattalion than that of adjutant. And then there are only two of us whoout-rank you, Brede and I; and as for me, you know I'd lay down mysword and shoulder-straps and go back into the ranks to-morrow if itcould help you, or bring you to yourself again."
"Oh, yes, I know that. I don't care so much about your ranking me,Charley; that's all right. You're fitted to fill any position you get,and you deserve the best. It simply occurs to me that after a fellowhas been here two years, and has stood at the head of the school instudy-marks, and has behaved himself reasonably well, he shouldn't beinsulted by having such an egotistical fool as Brede is placed over himin rank."
"Well, Brede can't really help being stuck up and silly; it's in him.But he makes a good officer in many respects; he doesn't get easilyembarrassed, has plenty of self-esteem--"
"Oh, yes, lots of it; struts around in his shoulder-straps as thoughhe owned the school; is constantly showing his infinite superiorityover everybody in general and me in particular. It's a good thing I'mon the staff and not under his immediate command. I wouldn't stand hisinsolence for an hour. I detest the fellow,--absolutely detest him!"
"Well, I'll admit that he's not a lovable character; but ColonelSilsbee had some good reason for making him the ranking cadet-officer,you may be sure, and it's our duty as soldiers to accept the situationand make the best of it."
"Good reason, did you say? Good reason! Harple, I'll tell you whyBrede is captain and I'm only lieutenant; it's because his father is ageneral in the army and worth a hundred thousand dollars, and my motherhas to stint herself in order to pay for my schooling. Now, that's whathurts me; it's the rank injustice of it!"
Brightly had risen to his feet, and was pacing the floor savagely."Bright," exclaimed his friend, "Bright, don't say that! You do wrongto believe it; you can't believe it. I tell you if it isn't all amistake there's some good reason for it, and one that does no discreditto you, or to Colonel Silsbee either. Why can't you let it rest atthat, Bright, and brace up. Get back to where you were three monthsago, and stay there, and don't give Brede and his set the chance to seeyou go to pieces.
"And there's another thing, too," continued Harple, as Brightly seatedhimself again in the chair by the window. "I'm afraid there's going tobe trouble here before the term is over. There's a kind of uneasinessamong the boys; they've been up to a good deal of mischief lately, andthe colonel's drawing the lines pretty tight, and they're chafing under'em. It gets that way every year,--it seems to come in with the springair; but I've never seen it so bad before as it is now. It wouldn'ttake much to start a first-class insurrection. If such a storm comes,Bright, I don't want you to get swept away in it. I'd be awfully sorryto see you lose your head entirely."
Brightly appreciated his friend's unselfish anxiety and earnestness onhis account, but he was not deeply impressed with Harple's argument.There was a tender pitch to his voice though, as he laughed a little,said he guessed there was no danger, and continued, more earnestly:"But I'm much obliged to you, Charley; you mean well by me, and you'rea good fellow. I'll try not to disgrace you anyway."
"All right! I must go now; Roberts'll wonder what's become of me.Say, Bright," turning back into the room, "look out for Belcher! He'sbreathing out threatenings and slaughter against you. Keep your temper;don't let him draw you into a quarrel,--he's a bad lot. That's allto-day. No charge. Good-by."
"Good-by."
At six o'clock, when the signal for retreat was sounded, a steady stormhad set in, and the line was formed in the drill-hall. Brightly camedown while the roll was being called, and, in the absence of the major,received the salutes and reports of the inferior staff-officers. Itgrew to be so dark in the hall that the wall lamps were lighted.
After retreat the boys usually remained downstairs until thesupper-bell was rung; and to-night, on account of the storm, nearlyevery one was in the drill-hall. Some were gathered in groups, somepromenaded up and down the hall, some ran about playing jokes on theircompanions.
Among these last was a boy of twelve or fourteen, whom capriciousnature had rendered so extravagantly obese that he resembled a great,overgrown baby. He had a round, good-natured face, a complexion as fairand rosy as a girl's, and a voice that would have done credit to a missof fifteen. When he walked or ran, the flesh on his body shook andtumbled about like jelly.
Those upon whom his pranks were being played turned on him at last, adozen of them, and backing him up against the wall, amused themselvesby running full tilt against him and rebounding from his elastic body.
Finally they dragged him to a corner of the drill-hall, where alarge box stood on end, and hoisting him to the top of it with muchroughness, they bent before him in mock reverence, hailing him as "HisFatness the King of Hogland." He beamed down upon them good-naturedlyfor a moment, and then replied, in his peculiar, falsetto voice,--
"I thank you kindly, my dear little pigs. You shall have an extraallowance of pig-feed to-night to pay you for these marks of highesteem."
The next moment his round face took on a look of feigned horror; herolled awkwardly down from his perch, and fled with ludicrous hasteacross the hall, followed by an increased crowd of tormentors.
Brightly stood in a corner watching the rude play, and laughinglistlessly. Captain Brede and Cadet Belcher were walking up and downthe south side of the drill-hall, conversing together in low tones.
"I wouldn't stand it," said Brede, looking furtively at Brightly asthey passed. "I'd let him know he couldn't insult me if I was inthe ranks. And he struck you with his sword; why, I heard the blowmyself. It's an outrage,--it's a brutal outrage. He wouldn't use aman that way the second time that belongs to my company, I can tellyou; but Harple, your captain, why Harple'd lie down and roll over tolet Brightly stamp on him. No, sir! You'll never get any satisfactionunless you take it yourself."
Belcher looked across to where Brightly was still standing, as ifmeasuring with his eye the muscular strength of the young adjutant.
"I've a mind to tackle him now," he said. "I can tell him what I thinkof him, anyway."
"I would; I'd do it. And if he gives you any of his impudence, slap hisface for him. You've got a right to; he's no better than you are, outof ranks. He deserves a good thrashing, anyway, and I'd like to see himget it."
They were crossing the hall now, toward Brightly. Belcher was workinghimself into an appropriate frame of mind for the attack on hisintended victim.
"Give it to him, Belch!" urged Brede again, in a whisper; "give it tohim! I'll stand by you. I'll see you through it."
Thus encouraged, Belcher loosed his hold on the captain's arm andwalked directly up to Brightly, while Brede, standing at a littledistance from them, looked on with a cruel light in his gray eyes and acruel smile on his thin lips.
He did not care so much that Belcher should be protected as he did thatBrightly should be punished. He was shrewd and unscrupulous; he wasproud and boastful. By his craft he had gained standing in his studies;by his self-laudation he had gained a following in the school.
But Brightly had seen through him, had m
easured him, had dislikedhim from the start. Brede knew it, and it angered him. He employedevery means in his power to hurt Brightly without incurring therisk of a personal encounter. His triumph when he obtained theranking cadet-office was great but short-lived. Brightly ignored himand snubbed him more after that than he ever had before, and thisengendered hate in his heart.
He longed to see this fellow humbled, subdued, punished, degraded. Thiswas why he was urging Belcher on. He knew that Belcher would probablyget worsted in an encounter; he did not care for that if only Brightlywere disgraced.
Belcher stepped before the adjutant in a threatening attitude, with hishands clinched at his side.
"I want to know," he said, "what right you had to insult me in theranks to-day, and to strike me with your sword?"
Brightly folded his arms, and looked coolly at his antagonist.
"I do not," he replied, "explain my conduct as an officer to a privatein the ranks."
"Your conduct as a bully!" exclaimed Belcher. "An officer who is agentleman wouldn't be guilty of doing what you did to-day. You weregiven the office of adjutant because it was a place where you coulddo the least mischief, and you wouldn't have got that if your motherhadn't come here and begged it for you. You got it out of pity."
Brightly's eyes began to flash, but his arms still remained folded.
"That's a lie," he said deliberately.
Already a crowd had gathered around the two boys. Some had heardBelcher's loud words, others had scented the trouble from afar. Theyswarmed to the scene of conflict, as boys always do, like honey-bees toa field of clover.
They were pressing in wildly toward the two disputants. They hadexpected a quarrel between them, and now it was on. They were bound tosee and hear the whole of it.
Belcher had worked himself into a white heat.
"Officer!" he exclaimed sarcastically; "officer! You're nothing but acowardly bully!"
Brightly's arms were loosed and dropped to his side. His face grewpale. His fingers twitched convulsively, the veins on his foreheadstood out dark and prominent. "One more word," he said slowly, "andI'll strike you."
"A hundred words if you like," replied Belcher, passionately, "andstrike if you dare! I repeat it that you're a cowardly bully and adisgrace to--"
He had not time to finish the sentence. Brightly's hand came up like aflash; but his stroke was parried and returned. Blows fell from eachin quick succession; then the combatants clinched, and the next momentthey were struggling in each other's arms with the fury of wild beasts.