Dick Prescotts First Year at West Point | Page 4

fever has gone up above one hundred and three degrees!"
"Form in line, and each one of you turn in all his money," directed the
treasurer crisply.
Each candidate was required to deposit with the treasurer the sum of
one hundred dollars. In the event that the candidate "passed"
successfully to enrollment in the cadet corps, then this money was to be
applied to the purchase of things necessary for the new cadet to have.
In case the candidate did not pass he would receive his hundred dollars
back again-enough, in almost any case, to take the young man safely
back to his home.
The first three men to step before the treasurer each turned in a few
dollars in excess of the hundred.
Each was handed the treasurer's receipt for the exact amount that he
deposited.
Then came a rather dazzlingly attired young man of at least twenty-one.
He had watched the others and now, with an air of some importance,
drew out a roll of considerable size. He detached two fifty-dollar bills
and handed them to the treasurer, with the query:
"A century covers the deposit, doesn't it?"
Though the treasurer frowned slightly at the slang use of "century," he
replied briskly:

"You must deposit all the money you have, Mr. Geroldstone."
"But that doesn't seem like a square deal," protested young Geroldstone.
"I'll need some money for personal expenses, some for little dinners,
something to spend on the young"
"You'll need no money here, Mr. Geroldstone. Cadets are allowed no
spending money outside of the so-called confectionery allowance, and
that is charged to you from your pay."
"But I'm a big candy eater," urged Geroldstone, with a grin.
"No argument, if you please, sir!" rapped the treasurer rather sharply.
"Turn over all your money and remember that you are on honor in the
matter."
Mr. Geroldstone received a receipt for nine hundred and sixty-two
dollars, plus a few small coins. As he turned away he muttered to one
of his predecessors:
"Say, ain't that a good deal like a hold up?"
"Remember, young gentlemen, all the money you have," admonished
the treasurer, as the line started to move again.
Thus commanded, the candidates went through all their pockets while
standing awaiting their own turns.
Dick and Greg had so well calculated their traveling expenses that each
turned in about twenty dollars above the required one hundred dollars.
This little transaction completed, the orderly turned and marched them
back at once to the hospital.
By this time some of the candidates had sufficiently overcome their
nervousness to realize how raw and chilly this first day of March was.
All of the candidates wore overcoats, though the outer garments worn
by some of the young men, especially those who had journeyed hither
from Southern States, were not of a weight to meet the March demands

at hilly West Point, which lies exposed to the icy northern blasts down
the Hudson River.
It looked as though it might snow at any moment. There was "ice in the
air," as Greg Holmes expressed it.
So it was a welcome relief to all of the young candidates to find
themselves once more inside the hospital building.
They were taken into the same room. During their absence the hospital
corps orderly had distributed blankets, one on each chair.
"Each of you will please strip now," announced the same young
medical officer, coming briskly into the room. "Strip as quickly as you
can. Each man take a blanket and wrap it around himself while
waiting."
Some of the young men looked startled, but all obeyed. In this stripping,
and in the varied degrees of orderliness with which the different stacks
of discarded clothing were piled it was rather easy to pick out the
young men who had previously undressed in the dressing quarters of
schools or colleges where athletics are a big feature.
"If we had a few tom-tom players we'd be ready with a fine imitation of
an Indian war dance," muttered one of the candidates, gazing about him
at his blanketed companions. There was a laugh, of course. These
highly nervous youngsters were ready to laugh at anything just now.
"Is Mr. Geroldstone ready ?" asked the hospital orderly, marching into
the room.
"I will be, in five minutes or so," replied Geroldstone, slowly pulling
his shirt off over his head.
"Mr. Danvers, then," called the orderly, consulting a slip of paper in his
right hand.
Candidate Frank Danvers, a good-looking young man, self-contained,

slight of build, not very tall, but very black as to hair, stepped forward.
"In here, sir," requested the hospital orderly, holding open the door.
After Danvers had gone the other young men held their breath for a few
moments-all except Geroldstone, who was still leisurely disrobing.
Back came Danvers after