"I was reading it," put in Mark, choking down his anger by a violent effort.
And as he spoke the corporal's face grew sterner yet.
"In the first place, sir," said he, "you have no business to be reading while awaiting inspection, and you know it—though I must say a more frequent study of that book would save you much trouble. In the second place, you are not expected to answer under such circumstances; the proper thing for you to do is to hand in the explanation to the authorities, and you know that, too. I am sent here to notice and report delinquencies and not to argue about them with you. I regret now that I shall be obliged to mention the fact that you remonstrated with an officer during inspection, a most serious charge indeed."
And Cadet Corporal Murray made another note in his book, chuckling inwardly as he did it.
"What next?" thought the two plebes.
There was lots more. The yearling next stepped over to the mantelpiece and ran his finger, with its spotless white glove, along the inner edge. Texas had rubbed that mantel fiercely; yet, to get it so clean as not to soil the glove was almost impossible, and so the corporal first held up the finger to show the mark of dirt and then—wrote down "dust on mantel."
There is no need to tell the rest in detail, but simply to say that while Mark and his roommate gazed on in blank despair, their jubilant enemy made out a list of at least a dozen charges, which he knew would aggregate to at least half of the demerit maximum, and for every one of which there was some slight basis of justification. The yearling was shrewd enough to suspect this fact would prevent their being excused, for he did not think that Mark would sign his name to a lie in his explanation.
The disastrous visit was closed with a note—"floor unswept"—because three scraps of paper were observed peering out from under the table; and then without another word the cadet turned on his heel and marched out of the room. And Mark and Texas stood and stared at each other in utter and abject consternation.
It was a minute at least before either of them spoke; they were both too dumfounded. The bombshell had struck, and had brought ruin in its path. Mark knew now what was the power of his enemies; knew that he was gone. For with such a weapon as the one the cowardly Murray had struck his dismissal was the matter of a week or less. Already he was more than halfway to expulsion; already the prize for which he had fought so long and so hard was slipping from his grasp. And all on account of a cowardly crowd he had made his enemies because he had been strong and manly enough to do what he knew was right.
It was a cruel fact and Mark felt pretty bitter toward West Point just then. As for Texas, his faithful friend and roommate, Texas said not one word; but he went to the chimney, up which he had hidden his sixteen revolvers for safety, calmly selected two of the biggest, and having examined the cartridges, tucked them safely away in his rear pockets. Then he sat down on the bed and gave vent to a subdued "Durnation!"