West Point Colors

by Anna Bartlett Warner

It was kind work to do, and the giving pleasure was always pleasant; but for his own delights Magnus fell back into his solitary woodside walks, with now and then a long pull upon the river. Up and down the shining current; fighting the wind, breasting the tide; tossed with mimic billows, or shivering a mirror of blue; so he went. Now coasting along at oar's length from the shore, where the hills rose up in castellated masses of rock and the cool shadow lay deep; then resting on his oars, and gazing through the peerless north gateway at the flood of sunset over Newburgh Bay. Sometimes showing it all to Cherry, "on their wedding trip"; or again, sent back here as Commandant, with Cherry the fair Frau Commander of the Post. And then—

A faint strain of music broke in upon his dream; the oars hung motionless, dripping their bright drops.

A soldier's funeral was passing slowly up the winding Camptown road; the grave notes of the band coming clear and soft across the water; the flag drooped midway. Magnus reverently bared his head. Then he sat listening.

There was so little tide that a dip of the oars now and then kept the boat in place; and Magnus sat there motionless, until the third volley rang out among the echoes, and to the usual lively racket the men came marching home.

"Yes!" he said to himself, as he began to pull down stream again. "When the time comes for Old Glory to wrap me up, let them bring me here and lay me there, to sleep among the hills."

And with a shake of the head at his own musings, Cadet Charlemagne made the boat fairly spin till it reached the landing, and dashed into the sallyport with full five minutes to spare.

The Fourth of July that year rose exceedingly hot. A misty haze veiled the mountains, the dew lay thick on every blade of grass; the silent black-mouthed guns were dripping with moisture.

Being a holiday, even the reveille gun took an extra nap; and the camp lay in absolute stillness for a half hour beyond its usual time. Only the sentries paced up and down in the heightening glare; and far away in the Logtown regions you could hear the sputtering of fire-crackers and know that Independence Day was begun.

Meanwhile, by the same token, a lively ambush was preparing in the quiet camp—a thing not distinctly set down and forbidden in West Point rules, and with what we call constructive evidence cadets concern themselves but little. And so with happy unconcern, Magnus and Twinkle, and pretty much all the first class who were not on duty, arranged the frolic. And for once the plebs liked their orders.

Up came the sun, touching Crownest, gilding Fort Putnam, peering into every bush and tree; and from the other side up came the band, their white helmets making a winding line of light across the plain. They took post at one corner of the camp; and then, as the Stars and Stripes swung slowly up to the head of the flagstaff, began their march and their music, saluting the colours.