An Annapolis First Classman

Such news travels fast, and on Saturday night the whole Academy, officers and midshipmen, were much perturbed. Sunday brought no change for the better and Surgeon Pickron advised an operation. Farnum had not regained consciousness. Surgeon Welton, who was in command of the hospital, insisted on delaying, against Dr. Pickron's advice, and on Monday morning everybody was much cheered up by hearing that Farnum's spasms had ceased and that he had come to himself. It was decided not to perform the operation, though Dr. Pickron believed that a clot of blood had formed and that Farnum's skull should be trephined.

From now on Farnum continued to improve and in two weeks he was discharged from sick quarters and sent back to Bancroft Hall, though it was ordered that he was to play no more football. But it was not the same Farnum. In place of the cheery, wideawake youth who had battled so valiantly against Bucknell, was a slow-moving, hesitating young man. He seemed afraid. The slightest unexpected noise or untoward incident seemed to startle him, sometimes to frighten him badly. "I can't help it, Bob," he said one time, with half a laugh and half a sob; "it's my nerves, I suppose; I'm sure there's something wrong with me; I know I'm acting like a baby, and I guess it will pass after a while; but I can't help it, I can't help it," and then Farnum broke down.

Stonewell, Robert and some of the others had long talks with him. They were all drawn to him and were much concerned. One of Farnum's peculiarities was that he didn't dare to go out at night. The entire first class were now devoted to him. His popularity had come late in his midshipman career, but it was now strong and abiding. And his sufferings were so acute and so constant that he had the warm sympathy of all.

And Academy life went on apace, and Academy life at this period of the year is mostly concerned with football. True, there are study hours and recitations; long hard lessons must be read over and officers must hear recitations; formations must be attended, drills undergone, and examinations prepared for. This football spirit infected the officers as it did midshipmen. Football was the one topic of conversation, the one purpose in life during this epoch, and those that didn't play shouted vociferous advice, admonition and encouragement from the bleachers.

One Friday night in the middle of November, at five minutes before ten, the bugles in Bancroft Hall rang out their customary discordant warnings that all midshipmen were to repair to their rooms immediately. In five minutes the midshipmen were to be in bed and all lights out. And instantly hundreds of midshipmen rushed through the corridors to get to their own rooms; for they are given the time from nine-thirty, the end of their study period, to ten for visiting.

On this Friday night the midshipmen ran to their rooms as usual at the warning signal. Until the last minute of the allowed time there was to be heard the scurrying of hurried feet resounding through the corridors and a babble of shouting and laughter. Eight hundred midshipmen seemed to have something to say that couldn't keep till the morrow.

Ten o'clock came, and with it complete silence save for the measured tread of cadet officers going from room to room to see the occupants thereof were all in bed. And now sounded forth the clock, with its ominous tick-tock, as though it had been silent all day, and there came the oppressive silence which reigns each night after ten o'clock. So it was this Friday night. Four bells, indicating ten o'clock, were struck, the lights were put out and a solemn hush was upon the eight hundred occupants of Bancroft Hall.

And then, in the stillness of the night, there arose an awful heart-terrifying shriek. It was plainly in the armory wing and evidently from one of the upper floors. Startled, affrighted midshipmen jumped from their beds and stood in listening attitudes. Again came a cry that permeated every nook and corner of the armory wing, and hundreds of midshipmen listening with painful intensity plainly heard the words:

"Help, help, Stonewell, help; I'm going down, going down, down." The tones were those of one in fearful agony. The midshipmen jumped to the doors of their rooms and into the corridors, all with unspeakable dread in their hearts, waiting for a leader to direct their actions.

Stonewell, rooming on the first floor, dashed into the corridor, followed by Drake.

"Where's that cry?" he demanded in strident tones.

"The top floor, sir," cried little Mr. Mumma, with trembling voice. Up the stairway bounded Stonewell and Robert.

Hardly had this occurred when the cry was again heard. It seemed now to be in the corridor of the third floor, which by this time Stonewell had reached. Stonewell stood perplexed and worried; in a second the fearful scream was again heard, but now evidently from the floor below, the second floor. Stonewell ran to the stairway at one end of the corridor, followed by the other midshipman. "Where is that cry?" he again demanded of the startled midshipmen standing about, much bewildered.

"It was here a minute ago, right here, right here," replied Harry Blunt. "But what's the matter? what's happened?" he asked. Again they were silenced by the awful cry: "Help, help, Stonewell, save me!" which arose from the floor below. It was twice repeated, each time seeming farther away, and then it ceased entirely. By this time Stonewell and Robert had run down two flights to the ground floor. Midshipmen here had heard the frightful shrieks and many scared faces were to be seen.

"Turn out, everybody; get into ranks. Company officers, muster your companies," shouted Stonewell. "Pass the word to the upper floors, Bob," he called out. "Muster on the first and ground floors," and Robert was off in a flash.

"You have anticipated my orders, Mr. Stonewell," remarked the officer-in-charge. "Make a careful muster; we'll investigate; what do you think it was?"

"I can't imagine, sir; I'm entirely bewildered; the cry was undoubtedly heard at the top of the building, and it was heard later on each floor. I followed it down from the third floor. But nobody came down on the stairways, I'm certain of that, and the cry seemed near the centre of each floor, where no stairway leads down. If it wasn't that I believe everything on earth is explainable I would say it is uncanny."

While Stonewell and the officer-in-charge were talking Bancroft Hall had burst into life. The cries had ceased.

In going along the ground floor Stonewell came across Bligh, half supporting Farnum. The latter was shivering with unconcealed fright.

"What is it, Stonewell?" he half whispered. "Oh, what has happened? Hasn't something dreadful occurred?"

Farnum had the appearance of a sick man. He was agitated in manner, and seemed weak and trembled; without Bligh's assistance he would have fallen.

"Just a joke, old chap," replied Stonewell kindly; "nothing to worry about; but you're sick, I can see that. Man, you have a raging fever!"

"Get to your company, Bligh; I'll take care of Farnum."

Stonewell reported Farnum as being sick, and received permission to take him to sick quarters, at some distance from Bancroft Hall.

The result of the muster was that Bligh and Farnum were reported as not being present but the absence of both was explained, Farnum being sick and Bligh being with him when the latter's company was mustered.

The midshipmen, tremendously interested and impressed, were now waiting to be dismissed. All sorts of conjectures were ventured to explain the mystery, and some had superstitious fears in their hearts. Mr. Henry Bligh listened with a queer expression to a great many theories of this remarkable episode, but offered none himself. But after he was dismissed he chuckled and laughed, being apparently much pleased with something.

CHAPTER VI

THE GATES FORWARD PASS

The commandant was inclined to make little of the incident of that Friday night. "Just a midshipman's joke," he said next morning to the officer-in-charge.

"I don't feel that way at all," replied that officer. "I don't believe anybody could have simulated the horror of those tones. I confess I have no theory about the matter and I'm at an utter loss in attempting to account for the way the cry descended from the upper to the lower floor, for it certainly did do that. It couldn't have been anybody running downstairs, for the midshipmen in charge of floors were at their desks at the foot of the stairways, and they say that nobody except Mr. Stonewell and Mr. Drake came down, and it wasn't either of them."

"Oh, I'll tell you how it was done," said Commander Dalton. "Some jokers got some rubber hose in some way and fixed up a plant to bewilder the officer-in-charge. I can imagine sections of hose were led to the different floors and were triced up overhead and acted as speaking tubes. You didn't think to look overhead, did you?"

"No, I didn't, but I don't think that could be the explanation."

"Perhaps not, but some joking midshipman was at the bottom of it. If it happens again just look overhead."

For several days following Stonewell appeared much preoccupied and was to be seen wandering about the corridors in the central part of the armory wing. Facing the corridors were long lines of midshipmen's rooms; the only communication between the floors were the stairways, two to each floor. Finally Stonewell went to the top floor and after looking about, disappeared into a small doorway leading to the tower, where the ventilating blower was in operation. This was on Wednesday afternoon just after study hours were over. At this time Robert Drake was standing by the stairway of the ground floor, leading to the basement. Harry Blunt came by and said: "Hello, Drake, come along, if you're going to football practice to-day; Stonewell said he wanted us on the field as early as we could get there."

"I'm just waiting for Stone; he's gone up to the fourth floor, and said he would be down directly."

Then to Robert's great surprise, Stonewell came up the stairway from the basement.

"How in the world did you get into the basement?" he exclaimed. "I saw you start for the top of the building and you came out of the bottom. How did you do it?"

"I'll let you know later, Bob," Stonewell said quietly, and Robert knew he didn't care to talk before Blunt. "Come along, fellows."

They started off at a brisk pace; near sick quarters, Stonewell said: "I'm going to drop in to see Farnum; an operation was performed on him Saturday afternoon, and Dr. Pickron said I might see him to-day. He is getting along finely."

"That's splendid news," exclaimed Robert; "just tell him how sorry we all are that he has been sick."

"May I see Mr. Farnum for a few minutes?" asked Stonewell of Dr. Pickron, in sick quarters.

"Yes, top floor back on the right. Don't stay too long with him."

"Thank you, doctor, I'll only be with him a moment."

Stonewell found Farnum lying in bed with his head bandaged. "Hello, Stone," cried the latter happily, as Stonewell came in, in a different tone of voice than Farnum had had for some weeks. "By George, Stone, I'm feeling a lot better; I've got rid of that miserable feeling I had for such a long time. Dr. Pickron is all right; he cut my head open and I'm going to be well and out in ten days or two weeks. I knew there was something wrong with me, but Dr. Pickron has fixed it all right. I'd been in bad shape ever since that Bucknell game."

"I'm delighted, old fellow," replied Stonewell enthusiastically; "that was a hard bump you got that day, but you're looking ever so much better. Everybody will be awfully glad to hear you are getting along so nicely; the squad, particularly."

"I'm afraid I'll play no more football this year."

"Don't worry about that, Farnum. You played a slashing game, and had much to do in getting that six against Bucknell; but you played too hard, as I was afraid you would. Say, old chap, you were pretty sick the night I brought you over here, weren't you? Do you remember much about it?"

"I've been worrying about that, Stone; I remember coming over with you, but I'm a good deal bewildered as to what happened before I saw you. I'd been feeling sick all day and turned in early. I went to sleep and had a horrible nightmare; I hate to think about it."

"Where were you when you woke up?"

"That's what has been bothering me. Stone, I found myself in the basement. How in the world I got there, what I was doing, I have no idea. I woke up with the most awful feeling of terror a man ever had, and I didn't know where I was. If it hadn't been that young Bligh was down there I'd have lost my grip; I didn't have much of one as it was. Bligh saw I was in bad shape, and grabbed me and half carried me to the floor above."