Dick Prescottss Fourth Year at West Point | Page 4

down the bridge," ordered Dick, after having saluted the Army
instructor.
Working as hard as before, the young men of the third and first classes
began to demolish the bridge that they had constructed.
When this had been done, and Dick had officially reported the fact,
Lieutenant Armstrong replied:
"Mr. Prescott, you will form your detachment and march back to
camp."
"Very good, sir."

Always that same salute with which a man in the Army receives an
order.
Some thirty seconds later, the detachment was formed and Dick was
marching it back up the inclined road on the way to the summer
encampment. By that time, a sergeant and a squad of Engineer
privates---soldiers of the Regular Army---were busy taking care of the
pontoon boats and other bridge material.
Marching his men inside the encampment, Dick halted them.
"Detachment dismissed!" he called out.
There was a quick break for first and third class tents. These young
men were in field uniforms---sombreros, gray flannel shirts, flannel
trousers and leggings. Most of them were dripping with perspiration
under the hot August sun.
They were all hot and dusty, and their hands stained with tar. Within a
very few minutes every man in the detachment must be washed
irreproachably clean, without sign of perspiration. They must be in
uniforms of immaculate white duck trousers and gray fatigue blouses,
wearing cleanly polished shoes, and ready to march to dinner.
A great deal to be accomplished in a few minutes by the average
American boy! Yet let one of these cadets be late at dinner formation,
without an unquestionably good excuse, and he must pay the penalty in
demerits. These demerits, according to their number, bring loss of
prized privileges.
Cadet Jordan, having done little, was among the first to be clean and
presentable. Immaculate, trim and trig he looked as he stepped from his
tent, but on his face lay a scowl that boded ill for his appetite at the
coming dinner.
Dick was a master of swift toilets. He was on the company street
almost immediately after Jordan had stepped out under the shadow of a
tree.

"Prescott," began Jordan stiffly, "I want a word or two with you."
"Yes?" asked Dick, looking keenly at his classmate. "Very good."
"Why did you report me this morning?"
"Because you performed the work in an indolent, laggard manner, even
after I had cautioned you."
"Do you consider yourself called upon to be a judge of your
classmates?"
"When I am detailed in command over them in any duty---yes."
"Shall I tell you what I think of you for reporting me?"
"It would be in bad taste, at least," Dick answered. "It is against the
regulations for a cadet to call another to account for reporting him
officially."
"Oh, bother the regulations!"
"If that is actually your view," replied Dick, with a smile, "then I will
leave you to the enjoyment of your discovery concerning the
regulations."
"Prescott, you are a prig!" snapped Mr. Jordan.
"If it were necessary to determine that, as a matter of fact," answered
Dick coolly, though he flushed somewhat, "I would rather leave it to a
decision of the class."
"Oh, I know you have plenty of bootlicks," sneered Jordan. "I also
know that you are class president. But that is no reason why you should
act as though you thought yourself a bigger man than the President of
the United States."
"Jordan, has the sun been affecting your head this forenoon?"
demanded Dick, with another keen look at his classmate.

"Well, you do act as though you thought yourself bigger than the
President," insisted Jordan sneeringly.
"I am a cadet, not yet capable of being a second lieutenant, in the
Army," Dick replied, regaining his coolness. "The President is
commander-in-chief of the combined Army and Navy."
"You are utterly puffed up with your own importance," cried Jordan
hotly, though in a discreetly low voice. "Prescott, you are-----"
Something in Jordan's eyes warned Dick that a vile insult was coming
in an instant.
"Stop!" commanded Prescott, shooting a look full of warning at his
classmate. "Jordan, don't say anything that will compel me to knock
you down in plain sight of the camp. It's years since such a thing as that
has happened at West Point!"
"Oh, you lordly brute!" sneered Jordan, his face alternately white and
aflame with unreasoning anger. "Prescott, you had it in for me. That
was why you reported me this morning. That was why you put me in
line for demerits and punishment tour walking. You are bound to use
your little, petty authority to humble and humiliate me. I shall call you
out for this!"
"If you do," shot back Dick, "I shall decline to fight you. It would be
against regulations and against all the traditions of