CHAPTER XIX.
THE ALLIANCE IS COMPLETED.
Having been thus easily rid of their unpleasant enemies, the plebes setout in high feather for home.
"I must get back in time to dress for dinner, don't ye know," said thedude.
"I'm 'bliged to yew fellows," put in the farmer, getting up from hisseat with a lazy groan. "My name's Methusalem Zebediah Chilvers, andI'll shake hands all raound."
"And mine's Chauncey Van Rensallear Mount-Bonsall, don't ye know," saidthe other, putting on his immaculate white gloves. "Bah Jove! I've losta cuff button, quarreling with those deuced yearlings!"
Chauncey's cuff button was found at last--he vowed he wouldn't go todinner without it--and then the party started in earnest, the twostrangers giving a graphic and characteristic account of the scrimmagewe have just witnessed.
Mark in the meantime was doing some thinking, wondering if here werenot two more eligible members of the "alliance." While he was debatingthis question the "dude" approached him privately and began thus:
"I want to say something to you," he said. "Dye know, I can't see why weplebes suffer so, bah Jove! I was thinking aw, don't ye know, if some ofus would band together we could--aw--chastise the deuced cadets and----"
Master Chauncey Van Rensallear Mount-Bonsall got no further, for Markcame out then and told the secret. In a few moments the alliance hadadded Number Six and Number Seven.
"And now, b'gee, I say let's organize, b'gee!" cried Dewey.
The sound of a drum from barracks put a stop to further business then,but before supper there was a spare half hour, and during that time theseven conspirators met in Mark's room to "organize." Indian was there,too, now calm and meek again.
"In the first place," said Mark, "we want to elect a leader."
"Wow!" cried Texas, "what fo'? Ain't you leader?"
"I say, Mark, b'gee!" cried Dewey.
"Mark," said the Parson, solemnly.
"Mark," murmured Indian from the corner, and "Mark" chimed in the twonewcomers.
"It seems to be unanimous," said Mark, "so I guess I'll have to let itgo. But I'm sure I can't see why you think of me. What shall we callourselves?"
That brought a lengthy discussion, which space does not permit of beinggiven. The Loyal Legion, the Sons of the Revolution, the Independents,the Cincinnati--suggested by the classic Parson--and also the TrojanHeroes--from the same source--all these were suggested and rejected.Then somebody moved the Seven Rebels, which was outvoted as notexpressive enough, but which led to another one that took the wholecrowd with a rush. It came from an unexpected source--the unobtrusiveIndian in the corner.
"Let's name it 'The Seven Devils'!" said he.
And the Seven Devils they were from that day until the time when theclass graduated from the Point.
"Three cheers for the Seven Devils!" cried Dewey, "b'gee!"
"Now," said the Parson, rising with a solemn look, "let us swear eternalfealty by all that man holds holy. Let us swear by the Stygian Shadesand the realms of Charon, whence all true devils come. Yea, by Zeus!"
"And we'll stand by one another to the death, b'gee," cried Dewey."Remember, we're organized for no purpose on earth but to do thoseyearlings, and we'll lick 'em, b'gee, if they dare to look at us."
"Show 'em no mercy, don't ye know," said "Chauncey."
"And let's have a motto," cried Indian, becoming infected with theexcitement. "'Down with the yearlings.'"
"I suggest 'We die but we never surrender,' b'gee."
"'_Veni, vidi, vici_,'" remarked the Parson, "or else '_Dulce et decorumest pro patria mori_,' in the immortal words of Horace, poet of theSabine farm."
"A motto should be brief," laughed Mark. "I can beat you all. I'll giveyou a motto in three letters of the alphabet."
"Three letters!" echoed the crowd. "Three letters! What is it?"
"It expresses all our objects in forming," said Mark, "and we'll havelots of fun if we obey it. My motto is 'B. B. J.'"
"Bully, b'gee!" cried Dewey, and the rest echoed his approval with arush.
That was, all except the unobtrusive Indian in the corner.
"I--I don't quite," he stammered, "quite see it. Why is----"
"Ahem!" Mark straightened himself up and put on his best professionalair in imitation of the Parson. "Ahem! If you had lived in Boston, anddevoted yourself to the cultivation of the intellectualities--yea, byZeus!--instead of learning to lose your temper and chase yearlings likea wild Texan---- However, I'll explain it."
"Please do!" cried Indian, innocently. "I'll never chase the yearlingsagain."
"That's good! B. J. stands for 'before June,' and is West Point slangfor 'fresh.'"
"I knew what B. J. means," put in Indian.
"What! Then why didn't you say so and save me the trouble? The other B.is the present imperative of the verb to be; he was, being, been, is,am, ain't. And the only way I can explain what B. B. J. means is to saythat it means be B. J., be B. J. with a vengeance, and when you gettired of being B. J., B. B. J. some more. Do you see?"
"Er, yes," said Indian.
"And now," laughed Mark, "since we're through, three cheers for theSeven Devils!"
And that is the story of the forming of West Point's first and onlysecret society, a society which was destined to introduce some very,very exciting incidents into West Point's dignified history, the SevenDevils, B. B. J.
A Cadet's Honor: Mark Mallory's Heroism Page 19
