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Updated: June 17, 2025
But I also made up my mind -and it still my mind -that I'd go very slow, indeed, in passing the torment on to the plebes who followed me." Dick spoke so seriously that there was an awkward pause. "I don't want you to think that I'm going to set up as a yearling saint," Dick added. "I don't mean to say that I may not put a single plebe through any kind of pace.
In the shortest time possible the young man reported hack at the tent, his bucket as full of water as it would safely carry. "Set the bucket down, Mr. Briggs, at the rear of the tent." The plebe obeyed, then stood once more at attention. "Mr. Briggs," continued the president of the yearling class, "it was you who threw water over Mr. Anstey?"
Our purpose is to find out which is the better oarsman, and also which rows with the more finish. Take your seats in your craft." Dave and Dan seated themselves, with all possible gravity, in their respective wash basins. "Up oars!" commanded Mr. Trotter. As neither plebe knew just what was meant by this command they had to be shown how to sit holding their "oars" straight up in the air.
The fellow makes the best soldier, in the end, I'll wager, who learns to keep his greatest desires in check. All the restrictions thrown around the plebe by custom are intended to make him the better man, soldier and officer by teaching him to wait until his time comes." "I congratulate you, mister," spoke a low but hearty voice from the doorway of a tent the two plebes were passing.
"That's the stuff!" complimented the delighted Sammy, reaching up to pat the tall plebe on the back. "Stick to that, and you will scare him into convulsions. You must look as fierce and desperate as you can, so he'll think you are thirsting for his gore." The preliminaries were soon over, and the valiant duelists were placed facing each other at a distance of fifteen paces.
There was a rapid sound of feet in the company street as Corporal Hasbrouck and the guard rushed along at double quick. "Hey, you wake up!" commanded Dick, vigorously prodding the plebe sleepers on either side of him. "All present, sir!" sleepily mumbled Anstey. "What's up?" demanded Greg, sitting up. "The very deuce!" retorted Dick. "There! Listen to that!" "Bang!" sounded a rifle report.
Are you ready?" "Ready!" assented both. "Time!" Both men advanced warily. Quimby knew well enough that he could whip the plebe, but he didn't intend to let Dalzell get in any blows that could be guarded against. Both men danced about until Mr. Ferris broke in, rather impatiently: "Stop eating chocolates and mix it up!" "Like this, sir?" questioned Dan.
Once, during one of these moods, a First-Class man, who had been a sneak in his plebe year and a bully ever since, asked me, sneeringly, how "Napoleon on the Isle of St. Helena "was feeling that morning, and I told him promptly to go to the devil, and added that if he addressed me again, except in the line of his duty, I would thrash him until he could not stand or see.
While Butler was dancing about, grinning, Greg, vastly more watchful than he appeared to be, suddenly let his right out in a feint, then followed with a left drive. Butler all but struck this blow up, yet, as he darted back from the parry, the yearling tasted blood from his own lower lip. That taught him that even a despised little plebe like Mr. Holmes might have his points of danger.
That was enough to give the bully his opportunity to rave and bluster. "That is an insult!" he fiercely declared, glaring at the little plebe as if he longed to devour him. "Such an insinuation is an insult! Do you mean to say that I had anything to do with the assault upon you?" "I don't mean to say anything more about it." "Oh, you don't? That is actually an open defiance.
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