Chapter XXV: Graduation

Captain Hawkesbury did not wait for charges to be preferred against him for his action in keeping from Tom and Mrs. Taylor the money due them. The old army officer had kept secret his part in the transaction a long time, but at last it came out. He resigned as instructor at West Point, and also withdrew from the United States service.

That was the end of Captain Hawkesbury, and his nephew Clarence, too, as far as Tom was concerned. The conspiring captain had made considerable from his association with Mr. Taylor and Mr. Doolittle, and some of his property was legally attached for the benefit of Mrs. Taylor’s claim.

Mr. Doolittle was wealthy, aside from the money he had wrongfully obtained from the Taylor estate. He defied Mr. Royse and Tom for a time, but the threat of a legal suit brought him to terms.

Rather than take a chance in that he agreed to pay back all he had taken, with interest. And this, with what money the railroad company had still held back, put Mrs. Taylor, in very easy circumstances.

“You won’t have to sew any more,” Tom wrote to her, “and you can now afford to come to West Point and see me graduate.”

For Tom’s graduation time was approaching.

It must not be imagined that getting restitution was as easy as it sounds. There was much legal work to do, but Mr. Royse attended well to that. It came out that the railroad company had not been altogether satisfied with the land title Mr. Doolittle and Captain Hawkesbury had given them, so they retained a part of the price agreed upon for the bridge approach, until a certain time when the matter should be adjusted.

When that time came, they began to make inquiries as to why their claim was not satisfied. And it was this inquiry that complicated matters, so that they eventually swung the way of Tom and his mother.

“Well, I’m glad old Hawkesbury isn’t here any more,” said Harry Houston one day as the four chums were strolling about the grounds after drill. “You deserve a vote of thanks, Tom, for getting him out.”

“That’s right!” chimed in Chad Wilson.

“Oh, I didn’t get him out. He got himself out,” Tom answered. “But I’m glad, too, that he’s gone. We’ve got some stiff work ahead of us, and he’d only make it all the harder for us.”

There was indeed hard work, but it was compensated for when Tom and his chums finally got into the first class--that is they were now beginning their fourth, and final, year at West Point. They now had many more privileges than at first. They could leave camp when they liked, after duty; they had first choice of horses and rooms--in fact they were very superior beings compared to the poor plebes.

Tom’s mother, now properly installed in a fine home in Chester, came to see him, and he took her about West Point, from Flirtation Walk to Fort Putnam and Old Fort Clinton--to all the places of interest--so that she enjoyed herself very much. She was very proud of her son, and Tom’s chums made much of his mother.

Tom devoted himself diligently to his studies. Civil and military engineering formed a large part, during that last year, and naturally gunnery and ordnance were made much of. Tom had developed into one of the best riders at the Academy, and there were some daring and reckless ones.

It was an inspiring sight to see the first class of seventy cadets charge at top gallop across the gravel plain, sabres flashing in the sun. From a line near the hedge they would start toward the chapel. Then, when the bugle blew, as they were riding as if to charge an enemy, Tom and his fellow riders would raise their sabres high in the air, and yell “fit to split their throats.”

Then would come light artillery drill, with the cannon rattling across the plain to be wheeled into line and fired. The very horses seemed to delight in the excitement and din, and certainly Tom and his fellows enjoyed it.

June was approaching--Graduation June--when Tom would leave West Point, to become a second lieutenant in the regular army. One day in February the gunner at Tom’s table made the usual announcement of “One Hundred Days till June.” And there was the usual rising to greet the sun. Then came the “One Hundred Nights’ Entertainment,” a function replete with fun, marking as it does the last cycle before the final exercises. A play was given, Tom taking a girl’s part with such effect that he was recalled again and again.

But it was not all fun--that closing of the final year. There was hard mental labor to be done in order to pass the examinations, and Tom had to work hard, as did his chums. Tom was trying for high class honors, and stood a good chance of winning them. Others were content to take what they could get.

Tom made the acquaintance of some charming young ladies, and had many a good time at the hops and other entertainments that marked the graduation period.

There were drills, parades and inspections. In the riding hall each cadet tried to outdo the others in skill and daring; in reckless riding with drawn sabres, cutting at the leather heads on set-up posts; in riding at the rings; in all the usual exploits. Some rode bareback, others leaped hurdles, still others rode two horses at once, standing with one foot on the back of each.

“Well how about it, Tom, old man?” asked Sam, as he met his chum after the last examination. “Get through all right?”

“I hope so. How about you?”

“Oh, I guess I managed to squeeze through. I’m not trying to set a pace, like you.”

“Well I don’t know that I have set it, Sam,” returned Tom.

“Oh, I think you did.”

And so it proved, for when the final standings were announced Tom Taylor was second man in his class, first place going to a New York cadet, who was a brilliant student, a first-class athlete and one of the most popular men in his division.

Not that Tom lacked popularity. It was felt, on the part of the cadets at least, that he was responsible for the resignation of Captain Hawkesbury, and this had endeared Tom to all, for the old army officer was cordially hated.

When the examinations were over, and Tom and the others realized they had not been “found,” which would have meant that they had actually “lost,” there was more freedom. There was little to do save plan enjoyments, and these were crowded in to the limit.

Tom was a good dancer, and he met many girl friends of other cadets who were eager to have him for a partner. Certainly Tom, in his natty new uniform, was a partner of whom to be proud.

But all good things have an ending some time, and it was so at West Point.

“Last parade!” announced Sam one day, as he and Tom were dressing themselves for it. “Last parade, old man!”

“Yes,” Tom said. “And while there was a time when I thought this would never come, now that it is here I rather wish it wasn’t to be.”

“Same here. We’ll soon cut loose from old West Point.”

To the tune “The Dashing White Sergeant,” played only on certain occasions, the parade came to an end. Tom and the others marched, with bared heads, to the platform to receive a little farewell talk from the commandant. Again Tom heard, as he had when a plebe, the strains of “Auld Lang Syne,” and “Home, Sweet Home.” He felt a choking sensation in his throat. This was the end of what, with all its hardships and drawbacks, had been a wonderful four years. Now he was to go out into the world to show what he could do.

True, there was a place made for him, a place of a sort, but he must depend on himself more than ever now. He would be what he could make himself. But he had had one of the best trainings in the world with which to do it.

Following the little talk by the Commandant, Tom and his fellows of the graduating class reviewed the battalion as it marched past them. Then they went to their barracks to preen for the graduation hop that night. It was another wonderful time for Tom Taylor.

The next morning the diplomas were to be given out by the Secretary of War, while the Academic Board, resplendent in brilliant uniforms, looked on. They were now powerless against the successful cadets, and they seemed to grin cheerfully in acknowledging it.

There was more music, more marching to and fro, more lines of severely straight young soldiers. One by one the graduates went up to the platform, and received the sheepskins which made them commissioned officers in Uncle Sam’s army.

“Well, it’s all over,” said Tom to Sam, as they went to their room for the last time.

“No, it’s only just beginning,” was the answer. “From now on ought to be the best part of our lives.”

“Yes, that’s so,” Tom said. “Well, it’s a heap sight happier for me than when I first came here. I don’t have to worry about my mother now.”

“No, now that you got hold of the old army officer’s secret, things are coming your way,” agreed Sam.

The two chums planned to see each other that summer before taking up their new duties.

“And now--good-bye, West Point,” said Tom, softly, the next day, as he prepared to leave and to meet his mother in Chester. “I hope all the plebes will enjoy their stay as much as I did--after I got over being one.”

“So say we all!” echoed Sam. “Good-bye, West Point!”

THE END

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Transcriber’s Notes

Obvious punctuation errors have been corrected.

In the book list at the start, “TREASURER HUNTER” changed to “TREASURE HUNTER”

Page 53: “saw saveral” changed to “saw several”

Page 62: “tactial officer” changed to “tactical officer”

Page 80-91: “may-but if we” changed to “maybe if we”

Page 81: “almos tinsultingly” changed to “almost insultingly”

Page 86: “fundemental requirements” changed to “fundamental requirements”

Page 110: “merely a carbureter” changed to “merely a carburetor”

Page 113: “Explosion--carbureter,” changed to “Explosion--carburetor,”

Page 123: “half our later” changed to “half hour later”

Page 169: The end of the sentence “... inside of a week,” he told” is missing in the original and has been left as-is.

Page 177: “of couse” changed to “of course”