Dick Prescotts First Year at West Point | Page 6

Greg discovered that it was merely the way in which all candidates were treated by the cadet officers.
"You'll draw your bedding and other things presently," said Brayton coldly. "In the mean-time you will remain here until you are ordered out. When you hear the order for candidates to turn out, obey without an instant's delay."
With that the corporal was gone, leaving the chums to gaze wonderingly about their new quarters.
Luxury? Not a bit of it. The room was severely plain. At one end was a double alcove, separated by a wall. In each alcove stood a bare-looking iron bedstead. There were two washbowls, two chairs and two desks that looked as though they had served the needs of generations of cadets. There was a window that looked out on the quadrangular area of barracks.
"Well, we're actually here, anyway," breathed Dick, his eyes sparkling. "We're living in cadet barracks, and we're halfway through the ordeal of becoming new cadets at the wonderful old United States Military Academy!"
CHAPTER II.
THE TYRANNY OP THE CADET CORPORAL
D IC K hung up his coat and hat, and Greg did the same, for the heat was turned on and the room wholly comfortable as to temperature.
"I've heard," murmured Greg, "that fellows usually get most woefully homesick at West Point."
"Then they've no business to come here," retorted Prescott, with spirit. "Such tender ones won't make soldiers anyway."
"I suppose we shall be awfully looked down on at first," mused Greg aloud.
"Well, we can stand it," laughed Dick. "If we can't, we can't endure lots more of things that are ahead of us."
"Just now I could endure a good, filling meal," sighed Holmes comically.
"Yes?" laughed Prescott. "Then just press the button and the waiter will bring us the bill of fare. I understand that candidates are allowed to have their meals served in rooms. Although I believe it's forbidden for any candidate, or cadet, either, to eat his breakfast in bed."
"Quit your 'kidding,'" begged Greg.
"I don't know that the authorities will bother to feed us, anyway, until we've passed and it's known that we are going to stay and be cadets," laughed young Prescott, feeling around his belt-line, for he, too, was hungry.
"Candidates turn out promptly!" rang, from below, a voice full of military command.
Greg was in the middle of a comforting yawn and stretch. He dallied to finish it, but Dick, snatching down his overcoat and hat, was already out on the landing and racing below, while behind him floated the advice:
"Come on, Greg! Get a boost on!"
"Get along there, beasts," commanded a cadet corporal in the lower hallway sternly. "This is no sleeping match!"
Out in the yard several candidates had already run. Some of these young men at home, had been accustomed to being waited on by mothers and sisters. Yet here, in the seemingly freezing and hostile air of the Military Academy, these same young men were fast learning that everything has to be done by one's self, and at steam-engine speed.
"Mr. Danvers, come with me, and I'll place you as right guide," called Cadet Brayton with the air and tone of a budding military martinet.
Candidate Danvers followed meekly. Brayton looked at the lad's stooping shoulders with frigid, utter disapproval.
"Mr. Danvers, take your hands out of your pockets, sir."
"All right," laughed Mr. Danvers, obeying, and trying to laugh nonchalantly. "Anything to please."
"Don't address a superior officer, sir, unless he addresses you in a way to make a reply necessary. And when you do address a Superior officer, or any other cadet or candidate on official business always add 'sir.'"
Danvers nodded, but the nod Cadet Corporal Brayton ignored by turning on his heel and stepping, with a magnificently military air and carriage, over to another luckless candidate.
When ordered, the candidate fell in next to Mr. Danvers. Then the other anxious youngsters fell into line.
"Candidates turn out promptly!" sounded snappily in another part of barracks.
Another lot of newcomers began to tumble downstairs and out of doors with feverish haste, to be confronted by another cadet corporal who awaited them.
"Never mind that other squad!" admonished Cadet Corporal Brayton sharply. "Favor me with your whole attention. Now, then, listen, and do each thing as I tell you. Button your jackets and overcoats all the way down! Stand erect, with your heels together, and your toes pointing out at an angle of sixty degrees. Stand erect. Throw your shoulders back, your chests out and hold your heads up. This is called 'the position of the soldier.' Stand as I do."
Corporal Brayton favored his awkward squad with a profile view of himself, as he took the exact position of a soldier. How the anxious candidates wished they really could stand as this handsome young son of Mars did! To them it seemed impossible ever to acquire such truly military carriage. They did not