The others looked at him, rather curiously for a moment, and one of them said:
“Yes, we are.”
“I’m in the same fix,” went on Tom, quickly. “Do any of you know anything about what we ought to do when we get there; where to report and so on?”
In an instant the reserve of the others seemed to melt, and they welcomed him, figuratively, with open arms. They were companions in a certain prospective misfortune. It developed that one of the lads had a relative who had attended West Point, and this relative had given some valuable advice which the lad, Samuel Leland by name, was glad to share with Tom and the others.
From then on the talk was of nothing but West Point, and the fear of hazing formed a large proportion of the conversation. Tom found that his new friends were going to stop at a different hotel in New York from that which he had picked out, and he decided to change and go with them. He was glad he did, for when he arrived in the big city he was fairly astonished by the bustle and roar. One of the other boys had been there on several occasions, however, and he acted as guide to the others.
That night and the next day were a sort of dream to Tom Taylor, for they decided to postpone their trip to Highland Falls for a day and see the sights of New York. Tom knew his mother would not object, and if he succeeded in passing into West Point it would be two years before he could get away again. He sent his mother a letter from the metropolis.
“Well, we might as well start and get it over with,” remarked Sam Leland the next day to Tom and the other candidates. They were at the hotel in New York, and had planned to cross the Hudson to Weehawken, to take the West Shore railroad, which would bring them to the village a mile below West Point. There they would stay until next day when they were due to report for examinations.
“Yes, no use lingering longer here,” agreed Tom. “I can’t enjoy anything when I think of what’s before me.”
The others confessed the same thing, and, accordingly, soon after lunch they took the ferry to Weehawken, and in due time were on their way to Highland Falls, a ride of about two hours.
Tom and the other lads walked up the winding road leading from the Highland Falls station to the hotel where they were to stop. The day was warm and the road dusty and they were not feeling any too comfortable. The little party Tom had fallen in with saw several other youths toiling up the hill, evidently with the same objective point as themselves. They, too, were “candidates.”