Part 11

In some things he had stood firm. The first brandy snap he got hold of at Mrs. Beguile's picnic went over the cliffs at Fort Putnam, to the great excitement of a nest of young squirrels. And the first bonbon drugged with rum followed: first, and last.

"But, easy and cheap!" he repeated to himself. "I was not going to be tricked into taking that stuff. I had said I wouldn't."

What else had he "said"?

Coming off next morning with O. G. P., Magnus got leave to go to the trunkroom, and hunted out a little copy of the Church covenant which he knew his mother had packed in with his other things. Then, under one of the shadowing trees of Fort Clinton, he lay on the grass and read it over.

"Unto Him, the Lord, you do now give yourself away, in a covenant never to be revoked, to be His willing servant forever."

Was it like a good servant to listen to slighting talk about his Master's laws? To be silent when the Name that is above every name was lightly spoken? Could he not rise and go from any company? How long would he be quiet if his mother's name was handled so? He did always wince, he was glad to remember, but who had been the wiser?

"Not even a poor little storm flag!" he said bitterly to himself. "And these are but catspaws that come to me."

Magnus turned over on his elbow, and looked across to the flagstaff, where the colours were having a lively time in the breeze; looked and looked, his eyes growing very grave, his lips firm.

"You're worth a half hundred of me, old comrade," he said, with a reverent wave of his cap. What was that his mother had said in her last letter?

"Thou, therefore, my son, endure hardness, as a good soldier of Jesus Christ." Turning back after a while to his former position, Magnus found himself face to face with a pile of muslin and lace, of which Miss Saucy was the fair centre. She stood a little away, gazing pensively at him, her white kids clasped in what might be either entreaty or dismay.

"Oh, there's nothing the matter, is there?" she said. "I was _so_ afraid you'd had a sunstroke, or something. And you know you promised me a walk this morning."

"Did I?"

"Yes, and it's very rude of you to forget it."

"Well, it is not too late for the walk," said Magnus, slipping the little book up his sleeve, and putting himself by the young lady's side. "Which way?"

"Round the plain. I mustn't get out of sight, because I have to walk with Mr. Chapman at twelve."

"'Have to' expresses it."

"You shan't make fun of him," said Miss Saucy. "Of course, he's not some people,--but then he never forgets his walks, which some people do. What was that book you were studying?"

"Regulations."

"Blue book?"

"No, white."

"Then it was the black one. Boning discipline! I don't believe it. Not you."

Magnus bowed.

"Let me see, then," she said. "I know it's just some old thing with a love letter inside. Give it to me!"

Magnus drew out the little book and handed it over, but Miss Saucy was a very bewildered girl indeed, as she turned the pages.

"_What?_" she said. "I can't make head or tail of this thing. What sort of stuff is it, anyhow?"

"Stuff that will wear."

"It'll wear you--wear you out," said Miss Saucy. "You are at least two years older than you were last night. Oh, I don't know anything about religion, except the outside of course, don't you know; but that's enough. So the Chaplain has given you the points, and you're going to pose; Cadet Kindred, the serious man. Well, it'll be a variety. Come, let's go; I'll be the first to have a walk with him, anyhow. Will this do-o-o?" said the girl, drawling out her words, and bringing the corners of her little mouth as far down as they would go. "Mr. Kindred, what will be a profitable subject for us to discuss, as we take our solemn way under the brooding trees that shadow the path once called Flirtation? The low state of grace in the Corps, and what to do about it? Then when we've settled that we might turn our brilliant light upon the girls and go for them."

"You said you wanted to walk on the plain," Magnus answered her.

"Plain's too gay. Do you think, Mr. Kindred, you could lend me your lovely book just till to-morrow? It might do me no end of good. And you know how much I need it."

"The book would do you no good at all," said Magnus, trying to keep cool. "If that is what you want, you had better read your own Bible."

"Haven't one to my name,--so there!" said Miss Saucy. "Oh, I never dare read the Bible, for fear of what I might find. I suppose you see me there quite often, all done up in black, and labelled like old letters. 'To be----'"

"Stop!" Magnus said, so sharply and suddenly that Miss Saucy did stop for sheer amazement.

"Well, I vow!" she said. "I wonder what right you have to speak to me so, Mr. Cadet Kindred."

"No right at all," said Magnus. "Only, if you play with Bible words, you will cut your own fingers; and I'm not going to stand by and see you do it. That is all. So if I should leave you and go back to camp, you'll know why." And Magnus strode on at a pace quite beyond the usual Flirtation saunter.

"I never--was--so talked to--in all my--many years of existence," said Miss Saucy, pretending to whimper. "I know I'm an awfully bad girl--and it's awfully sweet of you to tell me so. Such a nice time, too, when there's nobody round to take my part. Really looks as if you _cared_," added she, with soft intonation. "Don't go so fast, Mr. Kindred, please! I won't say another word--not half a word. Not if we meet a procession of snakes. Or my best man with another girl. Or your best girl with another man."

"You will not meet her," said Magnus. "She is too far away."

"Well, that is abominable," said Miss Saucy, as a turn of the walk brought them face to face with another couple. "That is awfully, savagely cruel. Oh, Nina Dangleum! Here is Mr. Kindred telling me he is engaged to be married! How are we all to live on and smile?"

"Excuse me; I said nothing of the sort," said Magnus.

"Awfully of the sort, I should say," retorted Miss Saucy. "Ought to be, if you're not. With a faraway girl that hides all the rest of creation."

"Then we are not to congratulate _both_ parties?" said the second man in grey, Mr. Short.

"Yes, me, by all means--that I'm not the other girl," said Miss Saucy. "We've been having the awfullest quarrel! I never guessed Mr. Kindred had such a temper: he always struck me as one of the sweet-milk division. Like the Zulu's dog, you know, that eat up all the missionary's Bible and could never fight any--more."

"Naturally," said Magnus.

"Well, the dog didn't die--if that's what you mean," said Miss Saucy. "Only his popularity."

"What do you know about missionaries?" said Short, with a laugh. "That's a story made to order."

"It isn't! I guess I can hear things; I've got ears."

"Two pink shells," Mr. Short suggested. Miss Saucy made him a sweeping courtesy.

"Positively, the first decent word I've had said to me this morning. Mr. Kindred has been simply savage. But, do you know, Nina," she went on, half aside, "I think he believes it suits his style. Very fetching, don't you know. Why his eyes just glowed! If I wasn't so awfully afraid of him, I vow I'd make him angry every day."

"Nothing left for you two, that I see, but coffee and pistols," said Short. "I suppose you can shoot, Miss Saucy?"

"I suppose I can't."

"Shall I take the job off your hands?"

"Oh, no use!" said the girl. "Mr. Kindred can't fight. He's the Zulu's dog."

Magnus coloured; but with a quiet steadiness of face and voice that held the essence of bravery, he said:

"True, Oh, Miss Saucy! So, as it is to be peace and not war, shall we walk on?"

And Miss Saucy actually behaved herself, for the rest of the way; and declared afterwards that she never _had_ known Mr. Kindred so fascinating.

Late in the afternoon, Rig coming into the tent was much astonished to find Magnus with his arms on the locker, and his head on his arms.

"Whatever's to pay now?" he said. "Just seen Pretty Newcomb go by with Carr? I wouldn't mind, Kin! There's several girls left."

"Rig," said Magnus, looking up at him, "if you bring all your brilliant intellect to bear in September, I'm afraid the Institution will blow up."

"Couldn't get the old thing started. Well, what is it, then? What are you at, all by yourself here? We've been having lots of fun in D Company."

"Good place for it," said Magnus; "your sort."

"What are you about, anyway?"

"Adding up two and two, and trying to make them six."

"Talk of blowing things up!" said Rig; "if _that_ isn't inflation! You'll find it a quicker job, Kin, to fetch in two more, if time is any object to you."

"When you want sense," said Magnus, "go straight to the man who hasn't got any, and he'll give you his whole stock. I'll pit you against the world. Clear out and curl your hair; I've got something to do."

And Magnus took from his Bible the slip of paper Mr. Upright had given him a year ago, then turned over to the fourth chapter of the first epistle of Peter, and put it in there for a mark. But he looked long and steadily at the staunch words:

"Yet if any man suffer as a Christian, let him not be ashamed."

After a little Rig came and peered over his shoulder again.

"Hard at it yet?" he said.

"Yes," said Magnus, "and like to be. Just look at this! 'If ye be reproached for the name of Christ, happy are ye.' And I don't feel happy, worth a cent. I feel just as cross as two sticks."

"But you can't take that as a _command_," said Rig, looking puzzled. "Folks don't feel happy to order."

"Not a command, no; it merely states the case. How I should feel if the cause were as dear to me as it ought to be."

"Well, I'd like to know what you're cross about," said Rig gloomily. "All the girls at your feet, and never twitted with anything by the Com. If it was me, now! You know how I shone in the blue list the other night."

Magnus nodded.

"Well, I hadn't really done anything," said Rig; "not worth mentioning, you know; and so I put in an explanation. And it was disallowed."

"Naturally."

"What do you mean by 'naturally'?"

"The way of the world, or the tactical part of it."

"But I wasn't going to stand it, if it was, you know; and I polished up my buttons, brushed the top of my head, swept my face, and went to see the Supe."

"Submitted your explanation to him?"

"Another, Kin, another, with variations. Told him I didn't really know the act was against rules. Which I didn't, except by hearsay; and that's not evidence in law."

"Haven't you a copy of the blue book?" demanded Magnus.

"Always sleep with it clasped to my heart, so as to know when to wake up," said Rig. "But now, Kin, what do you think the Supe did? Passed right over my innocent face and guileless bearing, my spotless gloves and inky shoes, and went for me like a Bengal tiger."

"'Mr. McLean,' he said, 'ignorance in your case is no excuse, sir. You have been reported for breaking almost every rule known to this Institution. That will do, sir.'"

"And you came away, as usual, sadder and wiser?"

Rig heaved a deep sigh.

"Yes," he said, "'sadder and wiser' will be my motto, Kin, as long as I stay here."

Magnus laughed and held out his hand.

"I mean to make you better that, this year," he said.

XXIII

THE GRIM GRAY WALLS

I'm older'n you,--and I've seen things a many; And my experience,--tell ye what it's ben;-- Folks that worked thorough was the ones that thriv; But bad work follers ye's long's ye live.

--_Biglow Papers._

Next day the tents were struck; and the manifold delights of Camp Golightly drifted away beyond recall. But how pretty--and how gay--the scene was, that last morning.

A perfect day to begin with; the air crisp enough to herald the coming fall; everything at its best, and the crowd at its largest. Mothers, brothers, sisters, cousins, friends, and strangers, the whole Post, and half the neighbourhood. The groups are always very varied, often picturesque.

Here stands a tall first classman, perfectly hemmed in by the dear people from home. His cap is off, and his face aglow; and lifted high up in his arms is the pet of the family; the little girl's hand straying round his neck, her soft childish dress and his gleaming chevrons setting each other off in a very perfect way.

Beyond them is a many-coloured group of girls and dresses, but the girls look sleepy, and the muslins a trifle tired. The small hours of the hop last night have been too much for both. They are languidly talking over supposed conquests, rousing up now and then to say good-bye to special cadet friends, with many promises to come back next June for graduation. Under another tree is another party in the freshest of dresses, but themselves in the dumps.

"Why, Amy!" says one of the calmest of the group, "you are almost crying!"

"Oh, it is too awful to have it all go!" said Miss Amy, never taking her tearful gaze from the white tents. "I asked Ella this morning how she could possibly sit there and eat all that chicken and egg. I couldn't touch a thing!"

And beyond these again stands a camera and its attendant genii, where a half-dozen mothers and their cadet sons are getting photographed together.

Great army wagons pass back and forth between camp and barracks, bearing away bedding, lockers, brooms, and looking-glasses; and over the same short road go men in grey, with private effects too precious for the wagon, or perhaps only a belated broom.

Out in the company streets there gathered and grew the while, this day, an array of rubbish; old shoes and gloves, old boxes that had once held boodle, white jars that _must_ have known tobacco, and yet had baffled (somehow) all tactical noses. White handkerchiefs--this one, indeed, duly marked "Smith, J." but this other, alas! filmy and fine with embroidery and lace. Once coveted and begged for and hid away, now tossed out among mess-hall spoons, stray towels, and broken glass. Had it even, perhaps, belonged to the fair damsel now weeping over the coming wreck of Camp Golightly? Take warning, young ladies, and do not waste your pocket handkerchiefs.

As time went on, the grey element gradually faded out from about the seats, and the white canvas began to shrink and fall from its smooth shapeliness, with cadets clustering in and about every tent.

The drummers came, and the first drum sounded. The tents shivered and swayed, the cadets took new positions, the breeze played over their heads and threatened to strike the tents at its own pleasure. Another drum, and now every eye and hand are needed to maintain even the semblance of a camp. Another--and the pretty little white town falls prostrate, and the grey men have the field.

Then fold and bundle up, with some cheers for the quickest; the full band marches in, the Commandant leads off on horseback--and away goes the grey-and-white host, plumes waving, arms glancing, all down the old road to the officers' row, and so on to barracks. And over the plain in all sorts of groups and combinations, goes a motley crowd of the sovereign people, vainly striving to get there first.

Poor little Miss Amy! Your cambric handkerchief lies limp and low in D Company street; and the man who was to keep it "always" marches past in the battalion, his head high in air.

A day or two of freedom follow, for getting settled; a few last bewitching walks are taken by some, while others peep into their study books and try to brush off a little of the summer's dust which dims that respected pile. And so comes the 1st of September.

I think Magnus Kindred was glad to get back to barracks, if only to tackle the year which should bring in furlough, and the yearling course certainly gave him enough to do. But who could not work with furlough before him? and of late another thought had taken new hold of his heart. He was but one, yet the honour of the name he bore was just so far in his keeping. If he stood high, it would be one answer to the taunt that religion made muffs of men. That would surely be said, if he were low in discipline, careless in dress, idle in studies.

So for one cause and another, Magnus worked with all his might; stood one in discipline, and in other things went steadily up. And his example told; there was a strong, sound atmosphere about him that other men could feel.

His dose of bitter-sweet thoughts about himself had done him good; and though he could not help hearing and seeing many things he did not like, join in them he would not, even if people laughed at him. More stringent orders than any blue book shows had taken new hold of the boy's heart, drawing him back from evil, speeding him on to good. "I have sworn unto the Lord, and I will perform it." Magnus and the flag had a good deal to say to each other in those days.

What busy days they were! New studies, new drills, riding among the rest; but that was a delight. The days shortened, the girls drifted away to less studious regions, the leaves fell--then the snowflakes; and the winter settled down into the long, steady stride which brought furlough nearer with every step.

January's first week sifted out several men from the yearling class; Mr. Carr among the rest. But as for some reason Mr. Carr took up his abode in the neighbourhood, he was still at least as useful an ally in helping them break regulations as he had been while in the Corps.

"If you want some fun," Rig said to Magnus one day, "just hang round the west wall of the Academic after supper."

"What about? I'm not going to put my fingers into a dark pocket."

"Nobody wants 'em in. There'll be enough without yours," said Rig. "But Carr is going to bring up a grocery store, and I thought you might like to see it."

"Bring up a grocery! Look out it doesn't turn into light prison for some of you."

However, groceries being rare in that particular locality, when Magnus went out for his evening walk he did stroll towards the old Academic. The night was moonless, and not overbright with even stars; but the white spread of snow made things quite plain enough. And presently, as Magnus stepped down the walk, he saw a dark huddle of figures near the appointed west wall. A small sled and a very big box, with a half-dozen cadets playing stevedore.

Then an officer came along the walk, meeting Magnus, who saluted and passed on. The officer glanced rather curiously down towards the dark group, but, with his mind full of something else, he merely took a short cut across the area, and so through the sallyport from the inside.

It was at a critical moment. Box after box of chickens, mince pies, cakes, ham, sweets, celery, and so forth, had been pounced upon, stowed in bags, and carried off. Rig's turn came last.

"I believe it's a mistake, you all going the same way," he said, as he seized the last bag of chickens. "I'll slip round the corner, and come in from the plain."

So round he went in the dusky light and met Lieutenant Benton in the very mouth of the sallyport. Rig saluted, and slipped in. But dark as it was under the grey arch, the officer's practised eyes found something unusual about the cadet outlines, and the next moment he turned and gave chase.

Rig had the start, and would have got off out of sight in another second if Mr. Benton had not suddenly shouted:

"Cadet, halt!"

Then it was all up.

"What have you there, sir?"

"Chickens, sir."

"Go to the guard-house and turn them in."

Crestfallen and sour, Rig crossed the area, set his bag down at the door of the guardhouse, and went in with his report. Being promptly ordered to produce his plunder, Rig stepped to the door--and behold! one chicken only was left. The light-fingered, light-footed boys in grey had in that two minutes rifled the bag and vanished. And Rig felt smaller than his own chicken when he turned it in, with the big bag, to the officer of the day.

"Just my luck!" he said gloomily. But he never knew who ate the chickens.

XXIV

NINETY-NINE DAYS TO JUNE

The bargain must be, That, as long as I choose, I am perfectly free. For this is a sort of engagement, you see, That is binding on you, but not binding on me.

--_Nothing to Wear._

It is impossible to put in words what furlough means to a two-years-from-home boy. For "boy" he is still, to the dear home group, as well as in West Point pranks and frolics. But from the time the Hundredth Night is over there is a steadily growing pressure of excitement. It is not long till, for themselves, the men begin to count the hours.

A great deal of outdoor work comes with the softening skies and freshening earth. Company drills, dress parades, make the Point all alive again, and the cadets full of growls. Not all the prospective laurels for perfect marching can make the means to that end a pleasure. They have no time for it, they say; time is so precious, when you do not want to spend it in some particular way. But rides on the road are good, after the winter drills in the Hall; and Saturday afternoons just perfect--except on the area. Springing grass, opening flowers, scented air, and in the distance--June.

For at West Point June has a gift for everyone. In the first class, graduation; to the old second class, first-class camp and privileges; for the old third class, furlough. While the plebs become yearlings, and call themselves the happiest of all.

As the time comes on, all sorts of tradesmen invade the Point; men with samples of cloth for uniforms and for "cits"; with sashes, swords, hats, gloves, helmets, and handbags; with trunks, class albums, studs, canes, and umbrellas. Each Saturday afternoon is weighted with the most perplexed sort of shopping. For when you have lived two years, or four years, in a forage cap, it takes a good deal of study to know whether you will be most Adonis-like in a stove-pipe, or a wide-awake, or a plain straw hat. The cut of coats, the colour of trousers, cause deep debate, as also the probable worth of one tradesman's word as against another's.

With first-class questions Magnus had nothing this year to do, but over one furlough point he had a sharp fight with himself. The "cit" clothes in which he had come as a candidate were odious to him on that very account. All the same, one way to save money was to wear them home. So Cadet Kindred braced up mentally, and said that was just what he would do. And then, to put an extra touch to his goodness, he thought he would try them on and see how ugly they were; break it to himself gently, and by degrees, before he walked out through the sallyport in open day.

It was a splendid plan. For lo and behold! under the hard, despised West Point training, Mr. Kindred had grown and filled out and developed until he could not possibly wear those old clothes.

Magnus tossed the coat up to the ceiling, regardless of what might happen to the plaster, and joined the shopping band that very day.

It was delightful now, in the soft spring weather, to go out at every release from quarters, for a stroll round the plain, or down by the river. How lovely Flirtation was! An army of "Dutchman's breeches" held all the best posts among the rocks by the wayside, scaling the cliffs even down by the landing. And in the deeper shade north of Battery Knox, whole beds of dog-tooth violets filled the spots of damper ground, lifting their elegant heads like the highbred beauties that they are.

Among the tougher growths, iron wood and black birch were charming with their tresses, and the young tufts of maple and oak and hickory leaves were a joy to see. Shad blossoms and dogwood "picked out" the green; from some far-down hidden corner the spice bush spiced the air. Saxifrage spread whole sheets of bloom; and Lowell's "dear common flower" gleamed everywhere.