Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 14, 1928 — page 127: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE WEST POINT ROMEOS. He stood looking at the sleeping form of his roommate. He wondered how Jack had fared with Margy. For Jack had had to dance with her, too. As if in answer to his wonder, his eyes fell upon a scrap of paper on Jack’s desk. Bill picked it up. He read: Miss Marcy GILMorE, 15907 Park Avenue, New York. The address was written in Jack’s scrawly handwriting. Slowly, Bill pulled a similar scrap of paper from the inner band of his cap. He compared the two bits of pa- per. Same address. It was a sober Bill who snapped out the light, and got into bed. Had Jack been ensnared on the balcony, too? Had those red lips— In his bed, Bill turned restlessly. Jack must never know that he, Bill Fenton, the invincible woman hater, had fallen. ‘Then, Bill rolled over into a new thought. If Jack had fallen, too— What a mess, what a mess for two alleged woman haters! The next day was Sunday. Sunday at West Point is apt to be a very long, and a very boring day un- less the cadet is fortunate enough to be dragging a very beautiful and viva- cious young lady. If the cadet has no such lady guest, then his day is spent in reading the Sunday newspapers, writing letters, or taking long walks through the lovely highlands of the Hudson. After reveille that morning, Jack and Bill, with last night’s sleep still heavy on their faces, returned to their room. 3 As they entered, Jack noticed on his table the slip of paper which contained Margy’s address. A shadow of worry crossed his face. He looked at Bill, who was unconcernedly going about his preparations for shaving. 265 A sleight of hand movement, and the paper was swept out of sight into the desk drawer. Jack breathed easier. Bill must never know. Brass-voiced, first call for breakfast sounded outside in the area of bar- racks: “ Soupy-soupy-soup. Come-and- eet-your-soup. ”’ Clamorous bells rang in the hall- ways. Four bells—four minutes to the assembly. Three bells. Sounds of many feet running along the halls. They belonged to plebes on their way to ranks. These fourth classmen must be in their places two minutes before the bugle sounds assembly. This is the old custom, so that upper classmen, dashing into ranks on the last note of assembly, might more easily find their proper positions in the formation. Two bells—two minutes to as- sembly. ) Bill was donning his blouse and cap. : The indifferent, red-headed Jack, who never made a formation without rushing most violently the last few minutes, dashed into the room with his face still flecked with lather from shaving. The source of water was out in the hall. And the hall sink served all the rooms on the floor. There was a wash- stand, with bowls, in each room, but cadets never used it. Rather, they would crowd around the hall sink, el- bowing each other to get at the water. Thus, the washstands were kept imma- culate for the rigorous inspections. One long bell—one minute to as- sembly. Jack flew into his gray blouse. Bill was going out the door. A scrap of paper fluttered from his cap. He did not notice its fall. But Jack did. However, he was in too much of a hurry to call out to his roommate. Jack started for the door. was the scrap of paper. Something prompted him to pick it There eonmicooks (E@)