Dick Prescotts Second Year at West Point

Dick Prescott's Second Year at West Point

The Project Gutenberg EBook of Dick Prescott's Second Year at West Point
by H. Irving Hancock This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net
Title: Dick Prescott's Second Year at West Point Finding the Glory of the Soldier's Life
Author: H. Irving Hancock
Release Date: July 5, 2004 [EBook #12819]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ASCII
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SECOND YEAR AT WEST POINT ***

Produced by Jim Ludwig

DICK PRESCOTT'S SECOND YEAR AT WEST POINT or Finding the Glory of the Soldier's Life

H. Irving Hancock

CONTENTS

CHAPTERS
I. The Class President Lectures on Hazing II. Plebe Briggs Learns a Few Things III. Greg Debates Between Girls and Mischief IV. The O.C. Wants to Know V. "I Respectfully Decline to Answer, Sir" VI. Greg Prepares for Flirtation Walk VII. The Folks from Home VIII. Cadet Dodge Hears Something IX. Spoony Femme--Flirtation Walk X. The Cure for Plebe Animal Spirits XI. Lieutenant Topham Feels Queer XII. Under a Fearful Charge XIII. In Close Arrest XIV. Friends Who Stand By XV. On Trial by Court-Martial XVI. A Verdict and a Hop XVII. "A Liar and a Coward" XVIII. The Fight in the Barracks XIX. Mr. Dennison's Turn is Served XX. A Discovery at the Riding Drill XXI. Pitching for the Army Nine XXII. Greg's Secret and Another's XXIII. The Committee on Class Honors XXIV. Conclusion

CHAPTER I
THE CLASS PRESIDENT LECTURES ON HAZING
Leaving the road that wound by the officers' quarters at the north end, turning on to the road that passed the hotel, a hot, somewhat tired and rather dusty column of cadets swung along towards their tents in the distance.
The column was under arms, as though the cadets had been engaged in target practice or out on a reconnaissance.
The young men wore russet shoes, gray trousers and leggings, gray flannel shirts and soft campaign hats.
Their appearance was not that of soldiers on parade, but of the grim toilers and fighters who serve in the field.
Their work that morning had, in fact, been strictly in line with labor, for the young men, under Captain McAneny, had been engaged in the study of field fortifications. To be more exact, the young men had been digging military trenches---yes---digging them, for at West Point hard labor is not beneath the cadet's dignity.
Just as they swung off the road past the officers' quarters the young men, marching in route step, fell quickly into step at the command of the cadet officer at the head of the line.
Now they marched along at no greater speed, but with better swing and rhythm. They were, in fact, perfect soldiers---the best to be found on earth.
Past the hotel they moved, and out along the road that leads by the summer encampment. The brisk command of "halt" rang out. Immediately afterwards the command was dismissed. Carrying their rifles at ease, the young men stepped briskly through different company streets to their tents.
Three of these brought up together at one of the tents.
"Home, Sweet Home," hummed Greg Holmes, as he stepped into his tent.
"Thank goodness for the luxury of a little rest," muttered Dick Prescott.
"Rest?" repeated Tom Anstey, with a look of amazement. "What time have you, now, for a rest?"
"I can spare the time to stretch and yawn," laughed Dick. "If I am capable of swift work, after that, I may indulge in two yawns."
"Look out, or you'll get skinned for being late at dinner formation," warned Greg.
There was, in truth, no time for fooling. These cadets, and their comrades, had reached camp just on the dot of time. But now they had precious few minutes in which to cleanse themselves, brush their hair and get into white duck trousers and gray fatigue blouses. The call for dinner formation would sound at the appointed instant and they must be ready.
Sound it did, in short time, but it caught no one napping.
Nearly everyone of the young men in camp had just returned from a forenoon's work, and hot and dusty at that.
But now, as the call sounded, every member of three classes stepped from his tent looking as though he had just stepped from an hour spent in the hands of a valet.
Not one showed the least flaw in personal neatness. Moreover, the tents which these cadets had just quitted were in absolute order and wholly clean. At West Point no excuse whatever is accepted for untidiness of person or quarters.
With military snap and briskness the battalion was formed. Then at brisk command, the battalion turned to the left in column of fours, marching down the hot, sun-blazed road to cadet mess.
Despite the heat and the hard work of