There was not a word said on the trip; all were too solemn and anxious.
Harden rowed--working silently and swiftly. The waves lapped against the boat, and the ripples spread out in long, silvery, moonlit trail behind them. And then the boat sped in under the shadow of the trees on the eastern bank, and a moment later grated on the pebbly beach.
Harden sprang ash.o.r.e and drew up the boat. The rest landed and he went on into the woods. The three followed him a short ways, and then at a little clearing he stopped.
"Here," said he, "is the spot."
Mark halted and gazed about him. He saw a small turf-covered inclosure surrounded by the deep black shadows of a wall of trees. The moon strayed down through the center furnishing the only light. It was not three o"clock yet, and the sun was far below the horizon. Mark whipped off his coat.
"I am ready," said he. "Let us lose no time."
Wright and his second were just as prompt and businesslike. The lieutenant stripped his brawny frame to the waist and bound his suspenders about him to hold his trousers. Mark was ready then, too.
"It is your choice," said he to the other. "How shall we fight?"
"By rounds," he answered simply. He was a man of few words. "My second has a watch," he added. "Mr. Stanard may look on if he cares to, though we shall each have to rely upon the other"s honor mostly. We have no referee."
"I am willing," said Mark. "Let Mr. Harden manage it. And let us be quick. Will you shake hands?"
They shook. And then the "referee" p.r.o.nounced the word.
"Go!"
And they went, hammer and tongs.
A man who chanced to be strolling along the river bank in the moonlight at three o"clock that July morning would have met with a startling scene. Just picture it to yourself, a quiet glade in the deep shadows of the trees, and in the center of it two white half-naked figures battling to the death, landing blows that shook the air. And all in silence and mystery. The two seconds, kneeling in the shadows watching anxiously, feverishly, were hidden from view.
Wright had one advantage over Mark. He had seen him fight, and he knew his method. He knew that in skill and agility Mark was his equal; it was agility that had beaten Billy Williams, the yearlings" choice. And so Wright relying on his strength and training pitched right in, for he and his second had agreed that a "slugging match" was the best way to beat Mallory.
Mark was willing to have it so; time was short, and they might be interrupted any moment. The sooner that unpleasant episode were over the better. And he answered the officer"s forward spring by another no less sudden and fierce.
A fight such as this one could not last very long, for human bodies cannot stand many blows as crushing as human arms can deal. The two had leaped in, each bent on forcing the other back; and for a moment they swayed, as in a deadlock, landing blow after blow with thuds that woke the stillness of the forest depths. The two seconds sprang forward, staring anxiously. They could scarcely follow the flying white arms, they could not see the effects of the crashes they heard; but they realized that any one of them might end it all, that their man might go down at any moment.
The end came, however, sooner than either had thought. Harden, glancing feverishly at the watch, had counted off the first minute, was counting for the end of the second. He had opened his mouth to call time, when he heard the Parson give a gasp. He looked up just in time to see one of the white figures--they had been bounding all about the inclosure and he knew not which it was--tottering backward from one mighty blow upon the head.
A moment later the figure was lying gasping upon the ground, and Harden sprang forward to see who it was. But he had hardly moved before he heard a shout, and glancing about him, saw a sight that made him start in alarm. The black woods were fairly alive with flitting white figures.
And the figures with one accord were rushing wildly down upon the group.
"Kill "em! Soak "em!" was the cry. "Where"s that plebe? Hooray!"
It was the baffled first cla.s.s.
CHAPTER XXIV.
SIX TO THE RESCUE.
Be it said in the first place, for the reader"s comfort and relief, that the figure who lay upon the ground stunned and gasping was not that of Mark Mallory. Harden saw that as he turned again, and he groaned. The Parson saw it, too, and uttered a geological and cla.s.sical exclamation of satisfaction, completely forgetful of his peril at the present moment. And as for Mark, he had known it long ago; he had meant that it should be just so.
The first cla.s.smen as they poured in upon the scene, furious and out of breath, took in the situation in one glance. They saw their friend and cla.s.smate, the mighty Wright, stretched helpless on the turf, and they knew that Mark Mallory, the hated plebe, had defied them successfully, had outwitted them, and stood now in all his impudence, his purposes completely achieved. And their rage rose to bounds beyond the possibility of description.
But they had him now! Though triumphant, he was in their power, alone with no soul to help him in all that lonely forest! And like so many wild animals they leaped upon him.
You have read of the fury of a mob? And you know what a mob may do? It is far more than any single one of them, any half dozen of them, would ever dream of doing. This mob had everything to urge them on, nothing to restrain them. Had not this plebe tormented their very eyes out? Had they not sworn to punish him within an inch of his life if he dared to fight with their lieutenant? And was not the lieutenant lying there now, half dead, calling upon them for vengeance?
One and all they sprang upon him. The leader seized him roughly by the shoulder, flung him backward; the next moment Mark"s arm shot out and the man went down like a log. That made the crowd still more furious; a dozen of them reached the bold plebe at once, and then there was the wildest kind of a time.
Mark could not tell very clearly what happened; he was vaguely conscious of shouts and imprecations; of flying arms and closely pressing bodies; of blows and kicks that blinded him, stifled him. He himself was striking out right and left, and he felt that he was landing, too. He saw another figure beside him doing likewise, and he knew that the gallant old Parson was at his side. And after that his head began to swim; lights danced before his eyes, and his strength began to fail him.
He went down, and that was all he knew.
There was no restraining those wild cadets, though fully half among them were manly enough to try. The brute pa.s.sions of the rest were let loose and there was no stopping them. They still pressed about the two struggling plebes, a crowd roaring for vengeance and satisfaction. And they meant that nothing should prevent their having it, either.
Something did, none the less. And it was something startling and unexpected. The reader will remember that we left the five hot upon the trail. The five were upon the trail still.
They had followed the crowd down the railroad track. The crowd had hired a schooner the day before, having learned that Mallory and Wright were going to attempt to cross the next morning; they had followed in that, and the five under the leadership of Texas had broken the lock on a rowboat they found and had pursued the cadets across. They had landed a few minutes later; they had heard the shouts of the crowd; and now, wild and reckless with rage at what they saw, they were rushing from the woods to the rescue.
To the rescue? It bid fair to be a weak attempt, for there were just five to attempt it, and of the others there may have been fifty. No one could count them; they were a mob, a wild-eyed, furious mob. But of the unevenness of the conflict the gallant five never once thought. They knew that their leader was in peril, and that it was their business to rescue him. And that was all.
Foremost among them was the wild Texan and he was a sight to put a hundred in a panic, a sight to rival Hercules and his club. Texas had s.n.a.t.c.hed an oar from the boat, and as he ran he was brandishing that.
His hair was ruffled, his face was red, and his eyes staring and wild.
From his mouth came a series of yells and whoops that made the forest echo. And a moment later he struck the crowd of cadets.
How that mighty oar did cut the air! If it had been a broadsword it could not have swept a clearer furrow. And behind it came the other four, all armed with clubs, making a V formation that was simply irresistible.
So long as the cadets were unarmed the fight was very one-sided, indeed, and the five might have rescued Mark in no time. But quick as a wink one of the cadets stooped and seized a stick; his example was followed instantly, and in half a minute the gallant rescuers were confronted with a score of clubs and a.s.sailed by a shower of stones that beat them back in confusion--stalled!
No, not quite! There was one rescuer left, a resource that Texas alone had. Texas had received a cut across the face that made him simply crazy. He dropped the oar, slung his hands around to his hip pockets, and a moment later with two huge six-shooters opened fire point-blank at the crowd.
It happened that those revolvers held only "blanks." Mark had insisted upon that beforehand, for he knew his friend"s sudden temper. But that made no difference to the cadets. When they saw those weapons flash in the pale moonlight, saw them in the hands of that wild-haired, wild-eyed figure, heard the deafening reports and saw the powder flash blindingly in their faces, they turned as one man and fled in terror to the cover of the woods.
And they left their victims lying on the ground!
Texas was not so mad but that he had some cunning left. He saw his chance, and shouted to his companions. The four seized the half-unconscious, sorely-battered pair in their arms, and whirling suddenly, made a dash for the sh.o.r.e. Texas himself scorned to run. He gazed about him defiantly, balancing his revolvers in his hands; and when he saw that the alarmed cadets did not contemplate a sally, he backed slowly through the woods and rejoined the other plebes.
The cadets had not the nerve to face those revolvers again, at least not at once. They had a moment later when they discovered to their horror what the plebes were going to do.
It was a horrible revenge. Instead of going to their own rowboat, the crowd deliberately marched out upon a little dock where the schooner lay. They put their charges into that, and then while the big Texan coolly faced about with his guns, the others seized the two rowboats and deliberately proceeded to tie them on behind.
They were going to leave the whole cla.s.s stranded!
A yell of fury, of horror, of fright went up from the crowd! Leave them!
Impossible! It lacked then two hours of reveille. And for them to be absent meant disgrace, court-martial, dismissal! Wild with alarm the crowd made a dash for the schooner, leaping into the water, running for the dock, shouting and yelling. And Texas calmly raised his revolvers, and stood thus, firm and terrible in the clear moonlight.
Before that figure they quailed an instant; that instant was enough. The big vessel swung off from the dock, the night breeze filling her sails.
And Texas turned like an antelope and made a leap for the boat.