West Point Colors

by Anna Bartlett Warner

However, as I said, time did wear on; with parades, drills, gymnastics, and the rest of it. And in the intervals, when upper classmen walked with the pretty girls, and went to teas and picnics, the plebs drew together and eyed them from a distance, making many comments, uttering many groans; but, most of all, knitting up firm and strong the class bond which no after-years could break.

This class bond is a most natural thing among boys who have faced hardships side by side; and in a way, it is very fine; but it has its danger, too.

The stand taken by each one in the class for and with each other one, in those first hard weeks when they feel as if every man's hand was against them all, sometimes passes into a "Stand by the class!" which cramps the influence, and hinders the action of many an individual man. "The class, right or wrong!" is never a safe motto.

One other little event in camp life that summer may be told over here, for its after-effect upon Magnus Kindred.

There were two or three men in the pleb class who, by reason of a certain offhand brightness of thought and tongue, had more influence with the rest than they deserved, for either their principles or their brains. Men able to put the wrong thing into such brilliant words, that the real meaning was lost sight of in the fun and the glitter. And so, in the scarcity of amusements, Magnus fell into the habit of lingering where they stood; listening to their sayings, laughing at their sallies, and, to a certain degree, following their lead. And, as often happens, the light words, the smart speeches which were not true, won their way. He began to hearken more readily, and more easily lent himself to plans and projects he might better have let alone; getting into the swirl of a current not likely to land him on any good and fruitful shore.

And then, as birds of a feather are apt to find each other out, some men of like tendencies in the first class made common cause, in a way; finding an admiring look of any sort quite pleasant, and a pleb a convenient catspaw, now and then. They made the musical ones come in for a chorus; and under such innocent cover matured their plans, and told their stories, to nobody's good.

If one of these wits set forth the fact that "Muffti" was sure to lead the prayer-meeting that night, Magnus would perhaps stay in his tent, or wander off beyond sound of the hymns, which always pricked his conscience and his heart as well. Or if some smart man made fun of the preacher who was to fill the chaplain's place during the summer vacation, Magnus was careful the next Sunday to practise himself in the fine art of sitting bolt upright when fast asleep. He grew to be an expert at smuggling in "boodle": he took the loan of books he had much better have let alone.

"Come round to my tent after dinner, Mr. Kindred," said Cadet Upright one day; and of course Magnus went; then stood attention in the straightest sort of way; very much wondering for what unknown breach of rules he was to be called to account by the first Captain.

So he stood up to all his inches, just within the tent door, while Cadet Captain Upright sat on a camp stool facing him; a stray sunbeam working its way in to touch the chevrons, and lighting up the honest, sunburnt face. Mr. Upright was no beauty, but not a man in the Corps was more thoroughly respected than he. "Not much to look at," said Sam Weller of his hat, "but it's an astonishin' 'un to wear!"

"Mr. Kindred," began Upright, "I asked you to come, because I wanted to talk to you."