TOM TAYLOR AT WEST POINT

Or The Old Army Officer’s Secret

BY FRANK V. WEBSTER AUTHOR OF “ONLY A FARM BOY,” “BOB THE CASTAWAY,” “AIRSHIP ANDY,” “DARRY, THE LIFE-SAVER,” ETC.

ILLUSTRATED

NEW YORK CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY PUBLISHERS

BOOKS FOR BOYS

BY FRANK V. WEBSTER

12mo. Cloth. Illustrated.

Cupples & Leon Co., Publishers, New York

Copyright, 1915, by CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY

TOM TAYLOR AT WEST POINT

Printed in U. S. A.

CHAPTER IWONDERFUL NEWS

Tom Taylor, a well set up, pleasant-faced lad of about sixteen, came marching up the path that led from the street to the front door of the cottage. Tom was whistling a cheerful air; no—one moment—the tune was cheerful enough, but Tom Taylor was whistling it in anything but a gay manner.

Something in the way that he trilled out the notes must have impressed his mother, for she looked up quickly, and out of the open window near which she was sewing.

“Why, Tom!” she exclaimed, “you’re home early; aren’t you? I hope——”

There was an anxious note in her voice, and an extra trace of worry showed in her face, already lined with marks of care.

“Yes, I am home a bit early, Mother. I’m taking a sort of vacation you see. Came home to get you to go for a walk. It’s too soon for supper. Come on, we’ll walk over to the woods,”[Pg 2] and once again Tom tried to put some gaiety into the tune he was whistling.

Mrs. Taylor shook her head.

“That isn’t the reason you came home so early, Tom,” she said, gently. “I know something has happened. Tell me!”

“It isn’t anything at all, Mother, really! Come on, we’ll go for a little walk, and then, when we come back, I’ll help you get supper. Come along.”

Again Mrs. Taylor shook her head.

“I’d like to come with you, Tom, you know that,” she said, “but I must finish this dress. Mrs. Leighton wants it to wear to-morrow, and if it isn’t done I’ll not get paid for it, and you know the interest is soon due. We must meet that.”

“Yes, I know,” and a frown passed over the lad’s face. “I wonder who invented interest, anyhow. It always comes at such an inconvenient time. Well, here’s something toward it, Mother,” and he took from his pocket a few bills and some change in silver.

“Oh, Tom! To-night isn’t pay night!” his mother exclaimed.

“It was—for me,” he said, and this time he smiled, for he saw a look of alarm, and almost of fear, come over his mother’s face, and he wanted to be as reassuring as possible.

[Pg 3]

“Why, Tom—Tom! if Mr. Blackford paid you, then——”

“Then it’s pretty good evidence, Mother, that I earned the money!” finished Tom with a laugh. “You don’t often catch Mr. Blackford paying for something he hasn’t had. I certainly earned this!”

Tom sighed in memory of the long hours of hard work he had given in exchange for that small amount of money.

“But why should he pay you ahead of time, Tom?”

“Because, Mother, there isn’t going to be any more time for me at Mr. Blackford’s store—that is not right away. I’m through—paid off, as it were.”

“Oh, Tom! I hope you didn’t have a quarrel with him!”

“Not in the least, Mother. It was a plain business proposition. He said he couldn’t afford to hire me after school any more to do some of his errands, and help straighten out the stock. So he paid me what he owed me, and here I am.

“I quit an hour earlier, you see, though I didn’t lose anything by it, and I thought maybe you’d come for a walk.”

“I’d like to, Tom, but really I must finish this dress. Oh, I’m so sorry Mr. Blackford couldn’t keep you.”

[Pg 4]

“So am I, Mother, particularly as we need the money. But I think I can find something else to do. Business is picking up a little. I’m going to be on the lookout. Something is sure to turn up. And I do hope it will be something worth while, so I can, by some means or other, get enough ahead to go to West Point.”

“You haven’t forgotten your ambition I see, Tom,” said his mother, as she vigorously plied her needle, taking advantage of the last hours of daylight.

“Forgotten it, Mother? Indeed I haven’t! I never shall. I intend to go to West Point, and become an army officer.”

Tom straightened himself up as he said this, as though he had heard the command:

“Attention!”

But the only sound that came to the ears of his mother and himself was the distant hum and roar of the little city, on the outskirts of which they lived.

Mrs. Taylor sighed. Tom was folding the bills into a neat little package, enclosing within the silver coins. It was a small sum, but it represented much to him and his widowed mother.

“I don’t like to think of you being a soldier, Tom,” said Mrs. Taylor, as she stopped to thread a needle.

[Pg 5]

“Well, I guess there isn’t very much danger,” Tom laughed. “There aren’t, at present, any vacancies from this congressional district so I understand, and the appointments at large have all been filled. And even if there was a chance for me to get in, I couldn’t do it I guess. It takes about a hundred dollars to start with, but, of course, after that Uncle Sam looks out for you. But I sure would like to go!”

Tom’s eyes sparkled, and again he half unconsciously straightened up, as stiff as the proverbial ramrod.

“I wish you could have your wish, Tom,” his mother said, softly; “but I can’t bear to think of war. It is so cruel!”

“Oh, just because I want to go to West Point, and become an army officer, doesn’t mean there’ll be war, Mother. In fact, war is ceasing to be the custom. But the best way not to have a war, is to be in the finest possible shape to meet it if it does come.”

“I can’t bear to think of it, Tom. The shooting—the killing! Oh, it’s terrible!”

“But the United States Army does a lot of things besides shooting and killing,” Tom said. “Look at the officers and men—see what they’ve done in the Panama Canal zone. Why, in spite of the fact that they’re trained in the arts of war,[Pg 6] they have, of late, been using their special knowledge in the interests of peace. I certainly would give anything for the chance to go to West Point. But there! No use thinking about it!”

Tom seemed to blow the matter away as though it were some trifle, light as air, and he assumed a manner of indifference that he did not altogether feel.

“Come on, Mother,” he begged, tossing the money into her lap through the open window. “Take a half-hour off. You’ll be all the better for it. You haven’t been eating well lately. A walk to the woods will give you an appetite.”

“I believe I will go with you, Tom,” she said, with sudden decision. “I can finish this dress after supper, but it must be delivered, and——”

“I’ll take it over,” said the lad. “I haven’t many lessons to-night.”

A little later mother and son were walking across the field that lay between their cottage and a little patch of wood in the cool and shady depths of which they were wont often to stroll.

Mrs. Taylor was the widow of Charles Taylor, who was once well-to-do. He had lost his fortune in unfortunate speculation, however, and the shock and disappointment of this, coupled with a not too strong constitution, caused his death when Tom was about twelve years old.

From the wreck of her husband’s estate Mrs.[Pg 7] Taylor received a small income, and she and Tom, moving from the well-appointed house in the best residential section of the small city of Chester, took up their abode in a small cottage, once owned by Mr. Taylor, but now mortgaged to a Mr. Aaron Doolittle, who had, in some unexplained manner, become possessed of much of Mr. Taylor’s former property.

The crash resulting in the sweeping away of the money, and the death of her husband, had almost stunned the young widow. But she rallied, and bravely took up the battle of life.

Mrs. Taylor was an expert needlewoman, and some of her former friends kept her well supplied with work. She managed, with a small income from some investments her husband had made before the crash, to keep Tom at his studies, and, eventually, he went to the high school, where he was in attendance when our story opens.

It did not take Tom long to realize that he was every day becoming more and more of an expense to his widowed mother. His clothes never seemed to wear very well. There were certain books and other materials to buy, that he might keep up his school work. And his appetite was not a small one.

He saw the need of more money, and resolved to earn it himself after school hours. He secured[Pg 8] a place in the grocery of Mr. Blackford, and by delivering orders, helping to keep the stock in order, and doing the hundred and one things that always can be done about a grocery, he managed to add a few dollars to the weekly income.

But now, owing, as Mr. Blackford had alleged, to a desire on his part to save money, he had told Tom his services would no longer be required.

“Though I’ll wager he’s found some one who will do it more cheaply than I did,” declared Tom. “Well, he won’t get any one to do it any better, that’s sure. I’m going to see Wendell to-morrow, after school. He may need a boy in his store.”

“Oh, Tom, they say he’s mean and cruel. No one likes to work for him,” objected Mrs. Taylor.

“Beggars can’t be choosers,” replied the lad, laughing. “I don’t mind hard work. I’d have to work hard if I went to West Point.”

His mother smiled. She did wish her fine-looking son could have his wish, but it seemed out of the question. In silence the two strolled on through the wood, to the far edge.

There, standing amid the trees, they could look across a narrow valley to where a railroad embankment wound its way along the shore of a small river. In the distance could be seen a[Pg 9] large bridge, and, crossing the river on this, the S. & C. V. Railroad entered the village of Preston.

The railway only touched the outskirts of Chester, but the line was near the center of Preston, which acquired importance from the fact that the county court house was located there.

“Well, if we had some of the money that was sunk around the piers of that bridge,” said Tom reflectively, “our worries would be over, Mother!”

“Yes,” she agreed, as Tom waved his hand toward the railroad structure, “but there’s no use talking or thinking about that, Tom. It’s past and gone, and the money has disappeared.”

“It disappeared all right enough,” and Tom’s tone was the least bit menacing. “But I’m not so sure that it disappeared fairly and honestly. If it had sunk in a bed of quicksand it couldn’t have vanished any more completely. But between old Doolittle, the railroad lawyers and some others—”

“Oh, Tom, please don’t bring up that old dispute!” begged his mother. “You know it can’t do any good.”

“No, I suppose not,” he admitted. “But it certainly is hard luck to look at what you think ought to be yours, and know that some one else is enjoying the benefit of it,” and Tom shook his[Pg 10] finger at the big railroad bridge, as if that structure of steel were, in some way, responsible for the unpleasant circumstances of his mother and himself.

The railroad bridge, or, rather, one of the ends and the approach, was located on land that had formed a part of Mr. Taylor’s estate. The land had always been considered valuable, and when the railroad went through the value of that property, as well as of other land near it, rose rapidly.

Then came Mr. Taylor’s death, and his widow, instead of receiving what she hoped for—a large sum from the sale of the bridge site to the railway people—received nothing at all. Inquiry developed the fact that certain creditors of Mr. Taylor’s, including a Mr. Aaron Doolittle and a Captain Cason Hawkesbury, held a claim on the bridge land, and they received the money for it from the railroad.

But, as Mrs. Taylor said, that was past and gone, though Tom could not forget it. There was always resentment in his heart, for he believed his mother should have received something for her rights. But they were not able to hire competent lawyers, and the young member of the bar who wound up the affairs of Mr. Taylor’s estate did not seem to think there was a chance of getting anything by litigation over the bridge property.

[Pg 11]

“We must go back, Tom,” said his mother finally. “I’ve enjoyed the little walk, and I feel better for it. But I must get that dress done, and I’m sure you are hungry.”

“Well, I don’t mind admitting that I am,” he said, with a final look at the bridge, over which, at that moment, an express train was rumbling.

“Going right over our property as if it had a right!” grumbled Tom.

“But they have a right, son,” his mother said gently. “Don’t brood over that any more.”

Tom might have done so, in spite of her request, but for something that happened shortly after that. They were walking down the side street toward their cottage, when a boy with a bundle of papers under his arm, came along.

“Will you take yours now, Mrs. Taylor, or shall I leave it at the house?” he asked, touching his cap and smiling.

“I’ll take it,” said Tom. “I forgot the Banner came out to-day. Wonder if they have a good account of our baseball game.”

The Banner was the weekly paper issued in Chester, and Mrs. Taylor subscribed to it. Tom took the sheet from the delivery boy, and rapidly scanned the front page.

“Yes,” he said, “here’s a big account of the game. And here—Say, Mother! Look here!” he exclaimed, holding the paper up in front of her, and pointing out a certain item. “There’s[Pg 12] going to be a competitive examination for a West Point cadetship! It’s going to take place in Preston in two weeks. It’s open to all the lads around here. Congressman Hutton has an appointment to make, and he’s going to let it go to the fellow who gets the best standing.

“Say, this is great! Wonderful! Mother, I’m going to have a try for that! A vacancy has unexpectedly occurred, it says. It’s my chance, Mother! It’s my chance!”

[Pg 13]

CHAPTER IITHE EXAMINATION

Tom Taylor was really quite excited. He strode along the street quickly, fluttering the paper containing the wonderful news, until finally Mrs. Taylor was obliged to call out:

“Tom, dear! You seem to forget that I haven’t my seven-league boots on. I can’t keep up with you,” and she laughed, though there was a worried look in her eyes.

“That’s so, Mother! I beg your pardon,” Tom said. “I forgot about everything except this chance. Say! it’s great; isn’t it?” and he looked at his mother with shining eyes.

“Are you really going to attempt it?” she asked softly.

“Why, yes, of course,” Tom said, quickly. “Why not?”

“Do you think you can pass, Tom?”

“Well, I’m not absolutely sure of it, of course. No one is. But I think I can pass the preliminary physical test, and that will admit me to the[Pg 14] written examination. I’ve been making some inquiries about that, and there isn’t any subject that we haven’t had in our high school work. I may be a bit rusty on certain things, but I’m going to bone up on them. I’ve got a week or more.”

“And if you pass this examination that is to be held at Preston, does that mean you’ll become a cadet?” asked his mother.

“No, it doesn’t, worse luck!” Tom exclaimed, with a rueful laugh. “But if I come out ahead in this preliminary examination, and get the appointment from Congressman Hutton, it means that I have a chance to go to West Point, and have a try there. And there’s where it will be pretty stiff, I imagine.”

“Oh, Tom, I—I hope you get it,” his mother murmured.

“Ho, ho! Thought you didn’t want to see me in the army?”

“Well, I don’t want to see you go to war,” his mother said gently. “But if it is your ambition to become a West Pointer, and if, as you say, there is a chance to do good work outside of shooting and killing, why, I shall not oppose you. Now let’s hurry home. I must get the dress finished, West Point or not,” and she smiled.

Tom walked beside her, reading over and over[Pg 15] again the notice of the examination soon to be held. In brief it was a statement from the congressman of that district to the effect, that, as he had a chance to name a youth to go to West Point, he had decided to throw the chance open to all the eligible lads of his district. They were to report at the Preston Court House on a certain day.

“And I’ll be there!” exclaimed Tom. “But I say though—hold on. There’s something I almost forgot!” and a shade of annoyance passed over his face.

“What is it, Tom?” asked his mother, as they neared the cottage.

“I have to have a hundred dollars, Mother.”

“A hundred dollars, Tom! What for?”

“To deposit at West Point,—that is if I get the permanent appointment,” he explained. “It’s a sort of guarantee to cover preliminary cost of equipment, and so on. I almost forgot that. A hundred dollars! It’s a pile of money!”

“But you don’t need it right away; do you?”

“No, not until June, when I’ll have to report at the Military Academy in case I’m successful. But—”

“Well, don’t worry about that part of it—at least not now,” said his mother. “When the time comes I may find a way to get it. I don’t[Pg 16] want to see you lose this chance. Don’t worry about the money or it may spoil your chances for passing the examination. I dare say I shall manage somehow.”

“Oh, if you only can, Mother!” and, even though they were out in the street, Tom put his arms around her and kissed her.

“Oh, Tom!” she remonstrated.

“Don’t you care!” he cried, gaily. “Nobody saw us, and I don’t mind in the least if they did.”

Supper was rather an excited meal, and Tom fairly ran home with the dress his mother finished. He was paid, and as he carried back the money he thought:

“It’s a shame I can’t make more myself. I don’t like the idea of taking the money mother earns with her needle to go to West Point with. I sure do want to go, though!”

“But I’ll make good!” he declared to himself, “and when I do, and when I’m earning a decent salary, I’ll make it all up to mother. She can live with me in barracks, perhaps, and I’ll be an engineer in charge of some big work. Say, it sure will be great!”

His mind filled with such rosy dreams of the future as these, Tom hurried around a corner, and ran full tilt into a man advancing from the opposite direction. So hard was the impact that[Pg 17] Tom would have knocked down the man but that he caught hold of him and held him up.

“I beg your pardon!” Tom exclaimed.

“Hey! Heck! Huh—! Huh—! Ahem! Ah!” the man ejaculated, trying to recover the breath that had been driven from his body. “What do you mean by running into me like that, young man? What do you mean?”

“I beg your pardon—Oh, it’s Mr. Doolittle!” Tom exclaimed. “I didn’t see you and—”

“Well, you’d better look where you’re goin’ next time!” was the snappish response. “Oh, it’s you, is it?” and he seemed for the first time to recognize Tom. “Might have known,” he muttered. “Nobody else would be rushin’ around corners like that but you!”

“I hope you’re not hurt, Mr. Doolittle!” Tom ventured to say, as he picked up the hat of the man who had succeeded to most of Mr. Taylor’s property.

“Hurt? Huh! More by good luck than your efforts if I’m not!” was grunted out. “Is my hat dented?”

“No, it doesn’t seem to be hurt a bit,” Tom said, as cheerfully as he could. He brushed it off, and Mr. Doolittle placed it on his head.

“Um! Humph!” was all the answer Tom received, and then, muttering to himself, the man[Pg 18] who was counted one of the wealthiest in Chester passed on in the darkness.