A Cadet's Honor: Mark Mallory's Heroism

by Upton Sinclair

  CHAPTER XVIII.

  TO THE RESCUE.

  Things happened in a whirl of confusion after that. To the horrifiedcadets a thousand incidents seemed to crowd in at one moment.

  In the first place there was the terrified captive, bound helplessly tothe tree, his clothing on fire, himself shrieking at the top of hislungs. Then there were the yearlings themselves, all crying out withfright and alarm and rushing wildly in to drag the burning wood away.Finally there were other arrivals, whom, in the excitement, theyearlings scarcely noticed. There were two of them; one tore a knifefrom his pocket and cut the rope in a dozen places, the other flung offhis jacket and wrapped it quickly about Indian's feet, extinguishing theflames. And then the two stood up and gazed at the rest--the frightenedyearlings and their infuriated victim.

  Infuriated? Yes, wildly infuriated! A change had come over Indian suchas no one who knew him had ever seen before. The fire had not reallyhurt him; it had only ruined his clothing and scorched his legs enoughto make him wild with rage. He had tugged at his bonds savagely; when hewas cut free he had torn loose from the friendly stranger who had kneltto extinguish the fire, and made a savage rush at the badly scaredcadets.

  Indian's face was convulsed with passion. His arms were swinging wildlylike a windmill's sails in a hurricane, while from his mouth rushed avolley of exclamations that would have frightened Captain Kidd and hispirate band.

  It made no difference what he hit; the fat boy was too blind with rageto see. He must hit something! If a tree had lain in his path he wouldhave started in on that. As luck would have it, however, the thing thatwas nearest to him was a yearling--Baby Edwards.

  Baby could have been no more frightened if he had seen an express traincharging on him. He turned instantly and fled--where else would he fleebut to his idol Bull? He hid behind that worthy; Bull put up his handsto defend himself; and the next instant Indian's flying arms reached thespot.

  One savage blow on the nose sent Bull tumbling backward--over Baby.Indian, of course, could not stop and so did a somersault over the two.

  There was a pretty _melee_ after that. Baby was the first to emerge,covered with dirt and bruises. Indian got up second; he gazed about him,his rage still burning; he gave one snort, shook his head clear of thesoil as an angry bull might; and then made another savage rush at Baby.Baby this time had no friend to hide behind; Harris was lying on theground, face down, as a man might do to protect himself in a cyclone.And so Baby had no resource but flight; he took to his heels, theenraged plebe a few feet behind; and in half a minute more the pair werelost to sight and sound, far distant in the woods, Indian stillpursuing.

  It might be pleasant to follow them, for Indian in his rage was a sightto divert the gods. But there was plenty more happening at the scene ofthe fire, things that ought not be missed.

  In the first place, who were the two new arrivals? It was evident thatthey were plebes--their faces were familiar to the cadets. But beyondthat no one knew anything about them. They had freed their helplessclassmate and saved him from serious injury, as has been told. They haddone one thing more that has not been mentioned yet. One of them, thesmaller, just after Indian had broken loose, had reached over and dealtthe nearest yearling he could reach a ringing blow upon the cheek.

  "Take that!" said he. "Bah Jove, you're a cur."

  There was another _melee_ after that.

  Of course the setting fire to Indian had been a pure accident; but thetwo strangers did not know it. They saw in the whole thing a piece ofdiabolical cruelty. The yearling the wrath chanced to fall upon was GusMurray--and his anger is left to the imagination. He sprang at thethroat of the reckless plebe; and the rest of the crowd rushed to hisaid, pausing just for an instant to size up the pair.

  They did not seem "to be any great shucks." The taller was a bigslouchy-looking chap in clothes that evidently bespoke the farmer, andpossessing a drawl which quite as clearly indicated the situation of thefarm--the prairies. Having cut Indian loose he was lounging lazilyagainst the tree and regarding his more excitable companion with agood-natured grin.

  The companion was even less awe-inspiring, for one had to look at himbut an instant to see that he was one of the creatures whom allwell-regulated boys despise--a dude. He wore a high collar, ridiculouslyhigh; he was slender and delicate looking, with the correct Fifth Avenuestoop to his shoulders and an attitude to his arms which showed that hehad left his cane behind only on compulsion when he "struck the Point."And any doubts the yearlings may have had on this question were settledas the yearlings stared, for the object turned to the other and spoke.

  "Aw say, Sleepy," said he, "come help me chastise these fellows, don'tye know."

  As a fact there was but little choice in the matter, it was fight or diewith the two, for at the same instant Gus Murray, wild with rage, hadleaped forward and made a savage lunge at the dude.

  What happened then Murray never quite knew. All he made out was thatwhen he hit at the dude the dude suddenly ceased to be there. Theyearling glanced around in surprise and discovered that his victim hadslid coolly under his elbow and was standing over on the other side ofthe clearing--smiling.

  The rest of the crowd, not in the least daunted by Murray's miss, rushedin to the attack; and a moment later a wild scrimmage was in progress,a scrimmage which defied the eye to comprehend and the pen to describe.The former never moved from the tree, but with his back flat against itand his great clumsy arms swinging like sledge hammers he stood and biddefiance to his share of the crowd.

  The dude's tactics were just the opposite. He was light and slender, andshould have been easy prey. That was what Bull Harris thought as hehastily arose from the spot where Indian had butted him and joined hiseager comrades in the hunt. The hunt; a hunt it was, and no mistake.While the farmer stayed in one place, the dude seemed everywhere atonce. Dodging, ducking, running, he seemed just to escape every blowthat was aimed at him. He seemed even to turn somersaults, to the amazedyearlings, who had been looking for a dude and not an acrobat.

  The dude did not dodge all the time, though; occasionally he would stopto cool the ardor of some especially excited cadet with a sudden punchwhere it wasn't looked for. Once also he stuck out his foot and allowedBull Harris to get his legs caught in it, with a result that Bull's noseonce more plowed the clearing.

  The writer wishes it were his privilege to chronicle the fact that thetwo put the eight to flight; or that Indian, having put the Baby "tosleep," returned to perform yet greater prodigies of valor. It would bea pleasure to tell of all that, but on the other hand truth is astubborn thing. Things do not always happen as they should in spite ofthe providence that is supposed to make them.

  The farmer, after a five-minute gallant stand, was finally knockeddown--from behind--and once down he was being fast pummeled intonothingness. The dude--his collar, much to his alarm, having wilted--wasin the last stage of exhaustion. In fact, Bull had succeeded in landinga blow, the first of the afternoon for him. The dude was about to giveup and perish, when assistance arrived. For these gallant heroes werenot fated to conquer alone.

  The first warning of the arrival of reinforcements was not thetraditional trumpet call, nor the roll of a drum, nor even the tramp ofsoldiers, but a muttered "Wow!" This was followed by Texas himself,bursting through the bushes like a battering ram. Mark was at his side,and behind them came the Parson. Dewey, being rather crippled, broughtup the rear.

  The four lost no time in questions; they saw two plebes in distress, andthey had met Indian on the warpath and learned the cause of the trouble.They knew it was their business to help and they "sailed right in" to doit.

  Mark placed himself by the side of the panting "dude." Texas and theParson made a V formation and speedily got the farmer to his feet and infighting array once more. And after that the odds of the battle weremore even.

  It was a very brief battle, in fact. A mere skirmish after that. Mark'sprowess was dreaded, and that of Texas but little less. After Texas hadchased
two yearlings into the woods, and Mark had stretched outBull--that was Bull's third time that afternoon--the ardor of the eightbegan to wane. It was not very long then before the attack stopped bymutual consent, and the combatants took to staring at each otherinstead.

  The rage of Bull as he picked himself up and examined his damages mustbe imagined.

  "You confounded plebes shall pay for this," he roared, "as sure as I'malive."

  "Now?" inquired Mark, smiling, rubbing his hands, and looking ready toresume hostilities.

  "It's a case of blamed swelled head, that's what it is," growled theother, sullenly.

  "Which," added the Parson's solemn voice, "might be somewhatmore classically expressed by the sesquipedalian Hellenicvocable--ahem!--Megalacephalomania."

  With which interesting bit of information--presented gratis--the Parsoncarefully laid his beloved "Dana" on the ground and sat down on it forsafety.

  "Why can't you plebes mind your business, anyhow?" snarled Gus Murray.

  "That's what I say, too!" cried Bull.

  "Curious coincidence!" laughed Dewey. "Reminds me of a story I onceheard, b'gee--I guess it's most too long a story to tell through. Remindme of it, Mark, and I'll tell it to you some day. One of the mostremarkable tales I ever heard, that! Told me by a fellow that used torun a sausage factory. It was right next door to a 'Home for HomelessCats,' though, b'gee, I couldn't ever see how the cats were homeless ifthey had a home there. They didn't stay very long, though. That was thefunniest part of it. They used to sit on the fence near the sausagefactory, b'gee----"

  Dewey could have prattled on that way till doomsday with unfailing goodhumor. It made the yearlings mad and that was all he cared about. But bythis time Bull had perceived that he was being guyed, and he turned awaywith an angry exclamation.

  "You fellows may stay if you choose;" he said, "I'm going back to camp.And those plebes shall pay for this!"

  "Cash on demand!" laughed Mark, as the discomfited crowd turned andslunk off.