# Dick Hamilton's Cadet Days/Chapter 19

CHAPTER XIX
THE MARKSMAN MEDAL
Toots' advance along the corridor leading to Dick's room was announced by his rendering of the tune "The Star Spangled Banner," which he ended with a spirited bugle call.
"Did you send for me, Mr. Hamilton?" he asked as he came in.
"I did, Toots,' said Dick. "I thought maybe you would like to have dinner with me here. I'm lonesome, and I suppose you are, too."
"Bless your heart, not exactly lonesome, Mr. Hamilton, but I'm glad to come just the same. You see I'm too busy to be lonesome. I've got lots to do, cleaning up all the rooms against the cadets coming back in a couple of weeks."
"Then maybe you haven't time to spend an hour or so here."
"Oh, I reckon I have. But it's agin the regulations for me to eat here. I'm supposed to eat with the other servants."
"We'll make our own regulations for the time being," said Dick. "Here comes Mrs. Fitzpatrick ​with the grub. I hope you're hungry, for I'm not particularly."
"Well, I can eat a bit," admitted Toots. "I say, though, that is a spread!" he exclaimed, as he saw the good things the housekeeper was bringing into Dick's room, where she set them on a table.
"Well, it's Christmas," observed Dick, "though I can't eat much myself. However, it'll do me good to see you put it away."
"And I can do that same," admitted Toots cheerfully.
Dick, under the doctor's orders was allowed only a bit of the white meat of the turkey, and none of the "stuffing," so he could not make a very substantial meal, but Toots ate enough for three.
"I don't suppose you got this sort of thing in the army," ventured Dick, wishing to have his odd friend talk somewhat of his experiences, for he had learned that Toots had once been janitor at a military post.
"No, indeed," replied Toots. "We did get a little extra at holiday times, but nothing like this."
"How did you come to be at the military post?" asked Dick.
"Blessed if I know. I was always a sort of a rover, and I suppose I wandered out west. I'm going to join the army some time. I'm a good shot, you know. Did you ever see me shoot?"
"Yes," replied Dick, trying not to smile, as he ​thought of how far Toots had come from hitting the target.
"Yes, I'm a good shot," went on the janitor. "But I'm going to improve. I'll practice on the range this winter at odd times. You're a pretty good shot yourself, ain't you?"
"Fair," admitted Dick, as he watched Toots put away the roast turkey and the "fixings."
"A-ker-choo!" suddenly sneezed Toots, pulling out his handkerchief. "Aker-choo-choo! Guess I put too much pepper on my potatoes," he said.
Something fell to the floor, as Toots pulled out his handkerchief. It lay in sight of Dick, who was propped up in bed.
"What's that?" he asked. "You dropped something."
The man picked it up, and Dick saw that it was a marksman's bronze medal.
"Let me see that," he said, quickly, and the janitor passed it over.
"Why this was given to some soldier, for good shooting," went on our hero, as he tried to decipher the name on it. "Where did you get it, Toots?"
"Blessed if I know, Mr. Hamilton. I've had it a long time. It was given to me by some friend, I expect. I found it the other day in my trunk. I'd forgotten I had it. But if it's a marksman's badge, I'm going to wear it. I'm a good shot."
Dick looked more closely at it. Besides the ​name of some soldier the badge contained the name of the command to which he had belonged, but everything save the letters "mie, Wyo." were obliterated by dents and scratches.
A sudden thought came to Dick. It was in connection with Toot's half-recognition of the picture of missing Bill Handlee. It was evident that Toots knew something of the captain's son, but he could not straighten out the kink in his memory, and possibly this marksman's badge might be a clue. Dick hoped so, and he decided to try to learn from what fort or command the medal had been given.
"I wish you'd let me take this for a few days, Toots," he said. "I'll take good care of it."
"All right, Mr. Hamilton, but don't lose it. If it's what you say it is, I'm going to wear it, to show I'm a good shot. Then I won't have to be telling people all the while. They can see it for themselves."
"Can't you recollect where you got it?" asked Dick again.
Toots shook his head.
"It's like—like the time you asked me about his picture," he said, pointing to the photo on the mantle. "I get all sort of confused in my head. Maybe I always had it. Maybe someone gave it to me when I was janitor at the fort out west."
"What fort was that?"
"I've forgotten. It's a good while ago. But ​don't lose that medal, Mr. Hamilton. I'm going to wear it."
"Poor Toots," thought Dick. "All the medals in the world will never make you a good shot."
He put the badge carefully away, resolving to ask Major Webster, at the first opportunity, from what military post it was likely to have come.
Thanks to the jolly companionship of Toots, Christmas was not as gloomy as Dick had feared it would be. The dinner over the janitor left Dick to himself, and our hero fell into a refreshing sleep. When he awoke he felt much better, and the doctor said he could be out in a couple of days, if the weather moderated.
The first of the year dawned; a fine bracing day, and, as there was no biting wind, Dick was allowed to stroll about the campus a short time. This brought the color to his cheeks, and completed the cure begun by the surgeon's medicine.
"Well, things will be lively a week from tonight," said Toots one day, as he came in to make up Dick's room.
"Why?"
"The boys will be back then. Vacation will be over."
"I'm glad of it," commented Dick, and then, with pain in his heart, he wondered if the coming term would bring him more fellowship than had the preceeding one.
Major Webster was among the first of the instructors to arrive, in anticipation of the return ​of the students, and to him Dick showed the medal.
"Why, yes; that's one given out years ago, at Fort Laramie, Wyoming," he said. "I can send it to a friend of mine for you, if you like. Possibly they may be able to trace the illegible name from the fort records."
"I wish you would," said Dick. "Maybe I can get a trace of Captain Handlee's son for him."
"I doubt it," replied the major, shaking his head. "I tried all the sources of information I knew, and it was useless. Still you may have better luck."
The medal was sent off, but, fearing nothing would come of it, Dick did not say anything to Captain Handlee about it, though he wrote to the veteran in answer to a letter the old soldier sent him.
The holiday vacation came to a close, and, one morning Dick awoke to a realization that, on that day, the cadets would come pouring back.
It was nearly noon when the first of them arrived. Among them was Paul Drew,
"Well, how are you, old chap?" he cried, rushing into Dick's room.
"Pretty good. How about you?"
"Oh, I had a dandy time, home. I almost hated to come back, but I wanted to see you, and then I know we'll have some sport this winter. Say, there are a lot of new fellows. We're not ​so fresh as we were. There are others. There's going to be hazing to-night, I understand. Thank fortune they won't bother me. I don't fancy cold water down my back on a winter night."
"Hazing, eh?" remarked Dick. And he wondered if his turn would come.