Now the adventures of Texas were wild and exciting, to him, anyway. But up at camp in the meantime another plebe was having adventures that fairly put Texas into the shade. The plebe was "Indian," and you may listen and judge for yourself of the adventures.

Indian had been rather less credulous of late, but the yearlings were still anxiously watching for another chance to have some fun with him. The chance came that day.

Nelson A. Miles is a hero of a hundred fights, and as major general he commands the United States army. The more they considered the importance of that mighty visitor, the more the yearlings began to think of that plan. There were a dozen of them got together that morning and swore they'd fool Indian or die in the effort.

Indian of course had seen the review and had been mightily impressed in his innocent soul. From the distance he had admired the military figure and imposing features of the great man. And then, filled with resolves to fight loyally under him and perhaps some day to be like him, he had turned away and strolled solemnly back to camp.

[Pg 233]He entered his tent, still in that serious, that really heroic mood. There was no one in the tent, and so Indian had it all alone for his meditations philosophical.

"Oh, what a fine thing it must be to be a great hero like that!" he mused. "To gaze upon the world from a large, ethereal standpoint"—an ethereal standpoint would have made unsteady standing even for a hero; but Indian did not think of that. "I can have no higher ambition in life than to imitate that man. As the poet has said:

'Lives of great men all remind us,
We can make our lives sublime,
And departing, leave behind us
Footprints——'
"Bless my soul!"

Indian had stopped his meditations with startling suddenness; and this was the reason thereof.

He had heard mysterious sounds in the Company B tent next door. It was a yearling tent. Two cadets had crept into it silently; and Indian heard one of them mutter a subdued "S-sh!"

Have you seen a pointer dog prick up his ears suddenly? That was the way Indian did.

"A plot?" said one of the yearlings. "A plot did you say? What is it? Tell me? I'll come in!"

"S-sh!" said the other. "Do you swear eternal secrecy, swear it by the bones of the saints?"

[Pg 234]"I swear!" growled the other in a low, sepulchral voice. "Out with it!"

"All the fellows know," continued the other. "They'll all help. But not the plebes! Do you hear? Not a word to the plebes! If any plebe should hear he'd surely tell on us, and that would ruin us. He might do it, you know, for he'd get no end of reward. They might even promote him, make him a yearling."

Indian's little fat heart was bounding with delight. A plot! And he knew it! Ye gods! Bless my soul! He crept close to the wall of his tent, straining eyes and ears to listen, not to lose the faintest sound of this most important news.

"It must be something desperate," gasped the other.

"Yes, it is. S-sh! You'll nearly drop I know when I tell you. We're——"

Indian's eyes were like walnuts, half out of his head.

"We're going," continued the yearling, slowly, "we're going to beat the general!"

"Beat the general!" echoed the other. "By George, I'll help! I'm glad of it. I——"

Indian heard no more. Quietly he had arisen from the tent floor, glancing about like a serpent rearing his glittering head from the grass. He arose; he crept to the tent door; and a moment later he was striding down the street as fast as his little legs could carry him.

[Pg 235]So that was the plot! Those wicked and reckless cadets who had hazed him so much were now going to beat the general! The general could, of course, mean only one general, the great general. There was no general at West Point but Major General Miles.

Indian never once stopped until he was well out of camp, out of the enemies' hands. A man with so mighty a secret as that could afford to take no risks; he must lurk in the shadows until he saw his chance to reveal the whole daring conspiracy. Visions rose up before his delighted mind, visions of himself a hero like Mark, congratulated by all, even made a yearling as the cadets had hinted. Indian even imagined himself already as hazing the rest of the plebes.

These thoughts in his mind, he was suddenly startled by seeing two yearlings coming near. Were they after him? Indian trembled. Nearer and nearer. No, they had passed him. And then, once more, he heard the words:

"Yes, yes! We're going to beat the general!"

"What! Heavens, suppose some one should find it out."

That settled it. Indian sprang up boldly and strode away, determination in his very waddle. He knew! And he would tell!

At that moment Indian saw Cadet Fischer crossing the parade ground. Surely, thought Indian, so high and[Pg 236] responsible an officer as this had nothing to do with the plot! Why not tell him? And so at him Indian made a dash.

"Mr. Fischer! Oh, Captain Fischer!"

The officer turned in surprise. Hailed by a common plebe.

"Mr. Fischer!" gasped Indian. "Bless my soul! I hear they're going to beat the general!"

"Yes," said the other. "In half an hour. But why——"

Good heavens, he knew it too! And like a flash, the frightened plebe wheeled and dashed away. There was only one resource left now. He would tell the general himself.

Across the parade ground dashed Indian, panting, gasping. Down by the headquarters building, he saw a group o............