Field of Lost Shoes Page #2

Concealed foodstuffs,

that's contraband.

Clear violation of

Institute regulations.

Immediate dismissal.

Might even be criminal.

Oh, Bobby, how could you?

Cadet Stanard, could

you please fetch

the Officer of the Day?

I-I don't know how

it got there.

This is Cadet

Garland Jefferson,

Officer of the Day,

whose jurisdiction

covers this matter.

And since his family are

direct descendants

of Thomas Jefferson and own the

eighth-largest plantation in all...

That'll do, Atwill.

Now, if I take charge, this

goes to the faculty,

which ends horribly

for the boy.

Oh, please, sir.

Could we have Duck

fetch John Wise?

Handle this within

the barracks?

Bobby, this is John Wise,

our unofficial

Chief Magistrate.

Now, his father was once

governor of this Commonwealth,

so he is as close to an aristocrat

as you can find in a democracy.

Look me in the eye, son.

Tell me the truth as if your

very life depended on it.

Did you do this?

No, sir.

I swear on my father's soul.

I believe this child.

I ask that we be allowed to

settle this here.

All right.

You understand, son,

if this gets out,

it could be bad for

Cadet Jefferson.

Therefore, there must be

some evidence of punishment.

Will you submit to a caning?

Yes, sir,

and thank you for

being so merciful.

Take your shirt off.

First-year cadets are

known as rats.

You are a rat.

But you're a special rat,

you understand?

You're my rat.

You're under my protection

and under the

protection of all here.

Are you with us, Robert?

O-Oh, yes.

Oh, yes, sir.

I want you always to remember

the horrible

injustice you thought

was gonna befall you here today

of one human using his

authority over another

without decency or conscience

and of the need to assert

a code of honor

that transcends the

temptations of power.

I hereby raise you above the

level of common rat.

You shall be known in this

company as Sir Rat.

Yeah.

Now put your shirt on, son,

before we find ourselves a

healthier specimen.

You hungry, boy? Oh, yes, sir.

What do you gentlemen say to a

little midnight requisition?

What?

Never mind! It's tradition.

Right there. Shh.

All right.

All right. Shh, shh, shh.

Come around.

Help me with this doorknob.

Easy. Easy.

Go ahead.

Oh, smells good.

Oh, that does smell good!

There's us some bread, boys.

Here we go, huh?

That's pretty good right there.

That one's mine.

That one's mine.

Well, now, evening, Judge.

No need to be afraid of

Old Judge, boy.

He's just a grumpy old slave.

I may be the property of

this Institute,

but I have the ear of

the Superintendent

and the full trust and

confidence of the Commandant.

I'm the master of

this bakery.

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