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Hancock, H. Irving (Harrie Irving), 1868-1922

"Dick Prescotts's Fourth Year at West Point Ready to Drop the Gray for Shoulder Straps"


"You're talking just to hear yourself talking," sneered the stranger
coarsely.
"No; I'm not, Henckley," retorted the cadet.
"What was the trick, then?"
"Don't you wish you knew?" laughed Jordan.
"I don't care much," replied the stranger named Henckley. "But
I can't just picture you as doing anything extremely clever.
Even if it was luck, as you say, I can't figure how you were smart
enough to know how to profit by it. That's why I'm just a bit
curious, but no more."
"Why, you see, it happened this way," went on Jordan. "I saw
Prescott, that night back into camp, going into the tent of the
O.C. I thought that perhaps Prescott was going there in order
to say more about the matter that he had reported me for that
forenoon. So I moved close and listened. It seemed that some
of the plebes had been running the guard nights. Lieutenant Denton
asked the fellow Prescott, who is a cadet captain, to keep a watch
and stop plebes before they had a chance to get on the other side
of the guard line.
"Well, I knew the point at which plebes were in the habit of getting
past the guard line, and so did Prescott, I guess. So, a little
after taps, I slipped outside the guard near where I judged Prescott
would be watching. Then, after I had heard him speak with the
cadet sentry I presently stooped low in the bushes and lit a cigar.
Then I stood up straight and the glowing end of the cigar showed
from where Prescott stood.


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