Dick Prescottss Fourth Year at West Point | Page 3

Prescott but swagger and cheap airs," decided Mr. Jordan, idly tossing pebbles. "It's a pity he can't be taken down a peg or two! And now I'm in for demerits before the academic year starts. Probably I shall have to walk punishment tours, too!"
Somehow, Jordan had come along through his more than three years in the corps without attracting much attention.
He had made no strong friends; even Jordan's roommate, Atterbury, felt that he knew the man but slightly.
True, Jordan had not so far been strongly suspected of being morose or surly; he had escaped being ostracized, but he certainly was not popular. If he had made no strong friendships, neither had he so deported himself as to win enmity or even dislike. He was regarded simply as a very taciturn fellow who desired to be let alone, and his apparent wish in this respect was gratified.
Dick Prescott was of an entirely different character. Open, sunny, frank, manly, he was a born leader among men, as he had always been among boys.
Dick was a stickler for duty. He was in training to become an officer of the Regular Army of the United States, and Prescott felt that no man could be a good soldier until the duty habit had become fixed. So, in his earlier years at West Point, Dick had sometimes been unpopular with certain elements among the cadets because he would not greatly depart from what he believed to be his duty as a cadet and a gentleman.
Readers of the _High School Boys' Series_ will recall that Prescott, in his home town of Gridley, had been the head of Dick & Co., a sextette of chums and High School athletes. It was in his High School days that young Prescott had developed the qualities of manliness which the Military Academy at West Point was now rounding off for him.
Readers of the preceding volumes in this series, _Dick Prescott's First Year at West Point_, _Dick Prescott's Second Year at West Point_ and _Dick Prescott's Third Year at West Point_, are already familiar with the young man's career as a cadet at the United States Military Academy. Our readers know how hard the fight had been for Dick Prescott, who, in addition to his early struggles to keep his place in scholarship in the corps, had been submitted to the evil work of enemies in the corps. Some of these enemies had been exposed in the end, and forced to leave the Military Academy, but many had been the bitter hours that Prescott had spent under one cloud or another as the result of the wicked work of these enemies.
At last, however, Prescott and his roommate and chum, Greg Holmes, had reached the first class. They had now less than a year to go before they would be graduated and commissioned as officers in the Army.
On reaching first-class dignity, both Dick and Greg had been delighted over their appointment as cadet officers. Prescott was captain of A company and Greg Holmes first lieutenant of the same company.
With Anstey chasing the balk carriers, and all the other squads attending briskly to business, the pontoon was quickly built, so that a roadway extended from shore to shore.
Now came the supreme test as to whether Prescott had done his work well.
In the shade of the nearest trees a team of mules had dozed while the bridge construction was going on. Behind the mules was hitched a loaded wagon belonging to the Engineer Corps.
"Sir," reported Prescott, approaching Lieutenant Armstrong and saluting, "I have the honor to report that the bridge is constructed."
Lieutenant Armstrong returned the salute, next called to an engineer soldier.
"Carter!"
"Sir," answered the engineer private, saluting.
"Drive your team over the bridge and back."
Mounting to the seat of his wagon, the soldier obeyed.
Dick Prescott and his mates did not watch this test closely. They were sure enough of the quality of the work that they had done.
Reaching land at the further side of the bridge, the engineer soldier turned his team in a half circle, once more drove upon the bridge and recrossed to the starting point.
"Very well done, Mr. Prescott," nodded the Engineer officer, with a satisfied smile.
"Take 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