The raw recruit had spoken in the highest terms of the adjutant, and that was something Tom could not endure, for it seemed to widen the gulf which he saw lay between him and the coveted commission. Although he had said that the officer “wasn’t much,” Tom really thought he was a great deal. He admired his graceful movements and his soldierly bearing—two things which he knew that it was impossible for him to imitate. Being entirely unacquainted with the relative rank of the officers, he thought no more about his captain’s shoulder-straps just then. He wanted to be the officer that had the most authority; consequently he envied the adjutant, and he made up his mind that, in a very short time, Bill Steele would be obliged to take a lower position, while he would assume the honors himself. But, as the parade progressed, Tom again began to doubt his ability to obtain any office, for he heard so many orders issued that it did not seem possible that he could ever learn them all.
“How long does it take a fellow to get the hang of this business?” he asked, turning to the raw recruit.
“Not long,” was the answer. “I’ve been here only three weeks, and I’ll go on dress parade next Monday. There are not many in the academy that can beat me handling a musket or a broadsword.”
This, in some measure, reassured Tom, who again turned his attention to the parade. When it was concluded, the companies were marched back to the armory, and the work for the day was over until seven o’clock that evening. As soon as the students had taken care of their weapons, some of them started toward the gymnasium, some went back to the parade-ground to engage in a game of ball, a few studious ones resumed their books, while others prepared to idle away the time under the trees. Among the latter was Tom Newcombe, who had been joined by Martin, Rich, and Miller.
“Well, old fellow, what do you think of the academy?” asked the latter, as he threw himself on the grass beside Tom.
“It’s splendid,” replied the new student.
“Yes,” said Martin, with a laugh, “it is splendid, if you have nothing to do but stand by, with your hands in your pockets, and look on. You forget the two hours’ daily drill, with muskets and broadswords.”
“And our long, difficult lessons, with six hours’ hard study,” chimed in Rich.
“And the guard-house,” said Miller, who had once spent two weeks in that pleasant abode, for attempting to desert the academy.
“The guard-house!” repeated Tom.