CHAPTER VIII.
THE RESCUE PARTY.
Mark and Texas were seated on the steps of barracks when the Parson camethrough the sally port. The two were listening to the music of the bandat the Saturday afternoon hop in the Academy Building, and also watchingseveral cadets paying penalties by marching sedately back and forth inthe area.
Stanard strolled in slowly with no signs of excitement. He came up andsat down beside the two in his usual methodical way.
"Good-afternoon, gentlemen," said he. "Good-afternoon. I have somethingto deliberate upon with you if it is perfectly agreeable."
It was agreeable, and so the Parson told his story, embellishing it withmany flourishes, classical allusions and geological metaphors. And whenhe finished Texas sprang up in excitement.
"Wow!" he cried. "Let's go up thar an' clean out the hull crowd."
"It is best to deliberate, to think over our plan of attack," returnedthe Parson, calmly, and with a mild rebuke in his tone, which remindedTexas of his promise never to get excited again, made him sit downsheepishly.
"I think," put in Mark, "that we ought to think up some scheme to scare'em off, or get away with Indian, or something. It's a harmless joke,you know, so what's the use of fighting over it?"
"Oh," growled Texas, in disgust.
"If we could only manage to turn the tables on them," continued Mark."Shut up a while, and let's think a few minutes."
And then there was silence, deep and impressive, while everybody got his"ratiocinating apparatus," as the Parson called it, to work. Mark wasthe first to break it.
"Look here, Parson," said he, "what's the name of all those chemicals ofyours that you hid up the chimney for fear the cadet officers 'd makeyou give 'em up?"
The Parson rattled off a list of unpronounceable names, at the mentionof one of which Mark sprang up.
"Get it! Get it! you long-legged Boston professor, you!" he shouted."Never mind why! But I've got something in my pocket that'll--gee whiz!Hurry up!"
The Parson did as he was commanded, and in about as much of a hurry aswas possible for him. And Mark tucked the bottle under his coat and thethree set off in haste to the rescue, Texas grumbling meanwhile andwanting to know why in thunderation a square stand-up fight wasn't justas good as anything.
An Indian war party could not have made a more stealthy entrance thandid the three. They climbed in one of the windows on the lower floor,the basement, and then listened for any sound that might tell them whatwas going on above. They heard voices conversing in low tones, but nosigns of hazing; the reason of that fact being that Indian was just thenlocked in another room hard at work on his "mental examination," thesame one that had been given to Stanard. And poor Indian was strivinghis best to think of the name of any undiscovered island which he hadever heard of.
Mark took the big bottle from under his coat, set it on the floor andtook out the cork. From his pocket he took a paper containing a thickblack powder. This he poured carefully into the bottle, put in the cork,and then turned and made a dash for the window. Outside, the three madefor the woods nearby and hid to watch.
"Just wait till enough of that dissolves," said Mark. "Just wait."
Meanwhile, upstairs, the hilarious cadets were chuckling merrily overthe predicament of their two victims. The lord high, etc., andsuperintendent had carefully timed the hour that the Parson was to havefor his answers; the hour was up, and the official had arisen, turnedthe key, and was in the very act of opening the door when suddenly--
Bang! a loud report that shook the doors and windows of the building andmade the cadets spring up in alarm. They gazed in one another'sfrightened faces, scarcely knowing what to think. And then up thestairway slowly rolled a dense volume of heavy smoke, that seemed tofill the building in an instant.
"Fire! Fire!" yelled the whole crowd at once, and, forgetting both theirvictims in the mad excitement, they made a wild dash down the stairs forthe door.
"Fire! Fire!" rang out their cries, and a moment later a big bell downat barracks sounded the alarm--"Fire! Fire!"
And over in the woods three conspirators sat and punched one another forjoy.
A Cadet's Honor: Mark Mallory's Heroism Page 8
