“Fellow citizens,” he said, “this matter has gone too far.”
“What matter?”
“The presumption of these yearlings! Such a thing has never been known in the history of West Point before, and I move, gentlemen, that we do not tolerate it for a moment. The very idea! Has it not been our special and exclusive privilege, disputed by no one, to leave camp at night whenever we want to? And are we to surrender our immortal rights as plebes to a handful of impudent yearlings? Gentlemen, I say no! Why, pretty soon they’ll be objecting to our hazing them! Think of their daring to talk of leaving camp! And without our permission at that. And of their daring to get up a feast without offering us any! Why, such outrages are enough, as my friend, the Parson, here has so often said, to make the very dogs of Rome cry out in rage and mutiny.”
“Yea, by Zeus!” said the Parson.
“Bless my soul!” gasped Indian, who didn’t exactly perceive the humor of the matter.
Indian couldn’t see but that the yearlings, from time immemorial the hazers of the plebe, had a perfect right to hold a feast if they wanted to.
However, he appeared to be the only dissenting member of the party; the rest were hilarious over Mark’s speech, and the minority report “cut no ice.”
“Gentlemen,” said Mark, still laughing; and then in imitation of the Parson, he added: “Fellow citizens of Athens, I move that we swear a solemn oath upon this sacred spot where so many of our noble ancestors—er——”
“Went in swimming,” suggested Dewey.
“Er—yes,” said Mark, “that’ll do, won’t it, Parson? A solemn oath, I say, that, in Texas’ vulgar parlance, we bust up that banquet to-night. What do you say? All in favor——”