“Good-night,” answered Taylor. “I dare say I’ll be out by the last of the week. You’re not a half bad sort, Hope; if it wasn’t for that bothersome conscience of yours I think we might get on together fairly well.”
Dick’s last glance across the room showed him a pallid, tired-looking youth sitting on the edge of the couch, with dejection expressed in his attitude, but a mocking smile on his face.
[CHAPTER XXIII]
PROSPECTS OF VICTORY
The erstwhile gallant crew of The Sleet lay upon the grass in front of Academy Building in the shadow thrown by the wall that runs along the edge of the bluff. About them in little piles lay various worn and tattered books. Dick and Carl, propped upon their elbows, were nibbling the succulent ends of grass blades. Trevor lay flat upon his back, gazing steadfastly upward at the slowly marching clouds, supreme content upon his sunburned face. Stewart Earle sat cross-legged and performed wonderful feats with a pearl-handled penknife. It was a few minutes before two; dinner was over and the bell had not yet rung for recitations.
Before them the warm red bulk of Academy Building, already hidden in wide expanses with tender green ivy leaves, arose against the velvety blue of the sky. In the tower a quivering disk of dazzling light marked where the sun shone upon the old bell. The trees were in full leaf, and the green was a little forest of light and shade and murmurous branches. Even the river dozed, below the bluff turquoise blue unbroken by swirl or eddy, beyond in the distance aglint with the sun. In the dormitories the windows were thrown wide, and boys lazed on the cushioned seats. There was a tuneful, unceasing hum of insects; the sun shone hotly; summer had come to the valley of the Hudson. It was the third day of June, a fact just remarked upon by Stewart, who had casually added that it was the anniversary of the Battle of Cold Harbor. This exciting announcement went unnoticed for a moment. Then Carl yawned loudly.
“Don’t believe it,” he muttered. More silence followed. Then, “It is extremely bad taste,” said Dick, “to air your knowledge in—that—in that——” Then his teeth closed on an unusually attractive grass stem and he subsided. A little breeze crept up the slope from the campus and stirred the brown locks over Trevor’s forehead. He sat up suddenly and observed Dick and Carl in fine disdain.
“Lazy beggars,” he muttered. At great labor and with many harrowing groans he reached about and gathered a handful of grass. Dick knew what was coming, but hadn’t the energy to prepare for resistance until it was too late. Then he sat up himself and, pulling the wad from his neck, stuffed it down Carl’s. Every one giggled; it was really very funny for a warm day. The quartet were now sitting in a circle, even Carl showing signs of life. Conversation appeared to be necessary. Dick opened his lips and closed them again without a sound. Trevor came to the rescue.