tom managed to stand up, though he felt weak and dizzy. he saw rather sheepish looks on the faces of the two yearlings who had begun to haze him. behind them stood one of the older cadets.

“you’d better go,” he said to the two hazers. then of tom he asked in not unkindly tone: “are you all right?”

“yes, sir,” tom answered, saluting, though had it not been for the pain of bruises he would have felt like laughing, standing at attention as he was, ready for his bath.

the older cadet said nothing more. doubtless he understood. for hazing at west point is severely prohibited now, though doubtless a mild form goes on more or less surreptitiously.

tom took a hot bath, which made him feel better, and when he had gone under the stinging shower he was braced up sufficiently to make him almost forget his painful bruises, for they did hurt.

[pg 69]

our hero did not feel any resentment against the lads who had started him on the “slide for life,” as it used to be called. it was part of the game, though a forbidden part. and tom knew better than to make a fuss about it. his life would have been miserable from then on had he done so.

after all, hazing, if not too severe and if it is unaccompanied by indignities that lower one’s self-respect, has its use in the world. it teaches a young man certain lessons that are hard to drill into him in other ways. but hazing, as it is often done in schools and colleges, is sometimes a silly performance, and sometimes a positively harmful proceeding.

“what’s the matter, tom?” asked harry houston, a little later, as the three new chums were in their barrack room. “you walk lame.”

“oh, i got a little bump in the bathroom,” tom answered, evasively.

“huh! i think i can guess how,” said sam. “i didn’t have it so easy yesterday, myself. but it’s all in the day’s work.”

the next day was the last of the examinations, and there were evidences of relief on all sides. but still there was the haunting fear in the heart of every candidate that he had not passed. it would be about two days before the results would be announced, and those two days are, perhaps,[pg 70] filled with more agony than any others in the life of a west pointer, except, it may be, when the final examinations come.

during the two days of waiting there had been little to occupy the attention of the candidates. they were obliged to keep to their rooms most of the time, and dismal enough it was, too. but there was no help for it.

“i do wish they’d hurry up and end the suspense,” cried harry one day when it was rumored that the results were to be made known that afternoon.

“yes, it’s like keeping a fellow on pins and needles all the while,” agreed sam.

“hark!” exclaimed tom, rising to his feet. “i think—”

“candidates turn out promptly!” came an order, interrupting him. “turn out!”

“they’re going to make the announcements,” sam said, and his hands trembled as he reached for his cap.

tom said nothing, but gritted his teeth. if he had failed—well, he had made a brave attempt.

downstairs went the candidates, all of them eagerly anxious, and perhaps not one but was nervously anxious. their faces showed the strain they were under.

in the area they were formed in a single rank, while in front of them stood the adjutant of the[pg 71] academy—the same one to whom tom and the others had reported the first day of their arrival.

he announced that those whose names he called were to step two paces to the front, the others were to maintain their place in the ranks. the name-calling followed immediately, in alphabetical order, and, one after another, certain lads stepped out. tom’s name would come far down on the list. he listened when the “h” division was reached, but houston’s was not called. nor was leland’s. and the adjutant went through the “t” column without mentioning tom.

our hero was puzzled. had he failed? why had his name not been called if he passed? no one seemed to understand what it was all about or what system was being followed.

finally the reading was over. in front, two paces in advance of one line, stood another row of cadets. the front rank was the smaller in number.

then, with wildly-beating hearts, tom and the others listened to the words of the adjutant. those whose names had been called, he stated, had failed in their examinations, and could not continue at the academy. they would turn in their equipment and withdraw. the others would remain, and start on their four years’ training to become army officers.

“then i’ve passed!” tom said, exultantly to[pg 72] himself. “i’ve passed and clarence hasn’t!”

he wanted to laugh, to shout and yell at his good fortune. not that he wanted to gloat over the failure of young hawkesbury. it was just that tom was fully alive to what it meant to him to have succeeded.

there was a deep silence following the announcement of the adjutant. doubtless others of the successful ones than tom wanted to laugh and shout, but they had to refrain. and probably those who had failed had hard work to keep back the tears of disappointment. for after all, they were only boys around seventeen years of age, and disappointment is keener than later, just as success is more sweet.

but it was all very cold and impartial at the west point academy. no one congratulated the successful ones, though when ranks were broken they did exult among themselves. and there was small comfort for the losers, most of whom, however, accepted it gamely.

“i’m glad i don’t have to go through the four years’ grind,” said one lad, who, it was rumored, was quite wealthy. “i’m going out west on a ranch now, and do some real living.”

later on, when hard work came, tom often envied him. but tom was not going to turn back now.

“well, old man, we made it!” said harry, as[pg 73] he shook tom’s hand, once they were in their room again.

“that’s what we did!” declared sam. “oh, but i was shaky!”

“so was i,” tom admitted, with a laugh.

those who had been “found”—which means they had lost the examination—lost little time in turning in their belongings, and taking the train back to their homes. some declared they would make another attempt next year, while others went off, sullenly angry.

“and now for uniforms!” exclaimed harry, a little later. “no more ‘cits,’ for at least two years, when we get our first furlough.” the clothes tom and his chums had worn up to this time had been those they brought from home. they were the attire of civilians, or citizens, which last word has been abbreviated to “cits” by the cadets.

“we’ll get any old sort of a uniform now,” said sam, who had been forewarned. “later on we’ll be measured for one that fits, and then melted and poured into it.”

indeed so well did the clothes of the cadets fit them that the simile of sam was not inappropriate.

each of the successful candidates received two pairs of uniform shoes, two pairs of gray flannel trousers, a gray blouse and a cap.

[pg 74]

“now we really are somebody!” exclaimed tom, with a sigh of content as he surveyed himself in the small mirror allowed in their room.

“well, yes, it’s a beginning,” said sam.

the next day they were marched to headquarters, to take the oath of allegiance to the united states, to serve for eight years, unless sooner discharged. each lad had to pay a twenty-five cent fee to an old clerk, who acted as notary public in administering the oath.

it was when tom and the others were coming from drill, a few days later, with aching shoulders and legs—for the ordeal had been severe—that our hero received a surprise.

with his chums he was passing along the parade ground, when he saw approaching an officer whose figure seemed vaguely familiar. the “plebes” saluted as they passed him. tom had a look at his face.

“captain hawkesbury!” murmured tom, under his breath. “what can he be doing here?” he asked sam, as he passed on, getting a sharp look from the glittering eyes of clarence’s uncle.

“who?” asked sam.

“that officer—captain hawkesbury,” tom went on, indicating the man they had just passed.

“oh, him. why he’s been assigned here from the regular army, i heard, to give special instruction. why, do you know him?”

[pg 75]

“yes, and i—i wish i didn’t,” murmured tom. he felt a vague sense of foreboding. what would the presence of captain hawkesbury mean to our hero at west point, when tom had been successful over the officer’s favorite nephew? tom was apprehensive.