“Fourth company. All present or accounted for with the exception of Private Albert Huggins,” said Bert Gordon, as he faced about and raised his hand to his cap. “Where is Private Huggins?” demanded Captain Clayton.
“I don’t know, sir. He had a pass last night, and he seems to have abused it. At any rate he is not in the ranks to answer to his name.”
Captain Clayton reported to the adjutant, who in turn reported to the officer of the day, and then the ranks were broken, and the young soldiers hurried to their dormitories to wash their hands and faces, comb their hair, and get ready for morning inspection. While Bert and his room-mate were thus engaged, an orderly opened the door long enough to say that Sergeant Gordon was wanted in the superintendent’s office.
[67]
“Hallo!” exclaimed Sergeant Elmer—that was the name and rank of Bert’s room-mate—“you are going out after Huggins, most likely. If you have the making up of the detail don’t forget me.”
Bert said he wouldn’t, and hastened out to obey the summons. As he was passing along the hall he was suddenly confronted by Lester Brigham, who jerked open the door of his room and shouted “Police! Police!” at the top of his voice.
“What’s the matter with you?” exclaimed Bert, wondering if Lester had taken leave of his senses.
“I’ve been robbed!” cried Lester, striding up and down the floor, in spite of all Bert could do to quiet him. “That villain Huggins broke open my trunk and took a clean hundred dollars in money out of it.”
Lester’s wild cries had alarmed everybody on that floor, and the hall was rapidly filling with students who ran out of their rooms to see what was the matter.
“Go back, boys,” commanded Bert. “You have not a moment to waste. If your rooms are not ready for inspection you will be reported and punished for it. Go back, every one of you.”
[68]
He emphasized this order by pulling out his note-book and holding his pencil in readiness to write down the name of every student who did not yield prompt obedience. The boys scattered in every direction, and when the hall was cleared, Bert seized Lester by the arm and pulled him into his room.
“No yelling now,” said he sternly.
“Must I stand by and let somebody rob me without saying a word?” vociferated Lester.
“By no means; but you can act like a sane boy and report the matter in a quiet way, can’t you? Now explain, and be quick about it, for the superintendent wants to see me.”
“Why, Huggins has run away—he intended to do it when he got that pass last night—and he has taken every dollar I had in the world to help himself along. Just look here,” said Lester, picking up the hasp of his trunk which had been broken in two in the middle. “Huggins did that yesterday, and I never knew it until a few minutes ago. I went to my trunk to get out a clean collar, and then I found that the hasp was broken, and that my clothes were tumbled about in the greatest[69] confusion. I looked for my money the first thing, but it was gone.”
“Don’t you know that it is against the rules for a student to have more than five dollars in his possession at one time?” asked Bert. “If you had lived up to the law and given your money into the superintendent’s keeping, you would not have lost it.”
“What do I care for the law?” snarled Lester.
“You ought to care for it. If you didn’t intend to obey it, you had no business to sign the muster-roll.”
“Well, who’s going to get my hundred dollars back for me? That’s what I want to know,” cried Lester, who showed signs of going off into another flurry.
“I don’t know that any one can get it back for you,” said Bert quietly. “It is possible that you may never see it again.”
“Then I’ll see some more just like it, you may depend upon that,” said Lester, walking nervously up and down the floor and shaking his fists in the air. “I was robbed in the superintendent’s house, and he is bound to make my loss good.”
[70]
“There’s where you are mistaken. You took your own risk by disobeying the rules——”
“The money was mine and the superintendent had no more right to touch it than you had,” interrupted Lester. “My father gave it to me with his own hands, because he wanted I should have a fund by me that I could draw on without asking anybody’s permission.”
“Well, you see what you made by it, don’t you? How do you know that Huggins has run away?”
“He told me he was going to. I offered to give him a dollar to help him along, and so did Jones and Williams.”
“You ought not to have done that.”
“I don’t care; I did it, and this is the way he repaid me. I’ll bet he had my money in his pocket when he refused my offer. I thought he acted queer, and so did the other boys.”
“Do you know which way he intended to go?”
“He said he was going to draw a bee-line for Oxford, and ship on the first vessel he could find that would take him to sea. Are you going after him?” inquired Lester, as Bert turned toward the door. “Look here: if you will follow him[71] up and get my money back for me, I’ll—I’ll lend you five dollars of it, if you want it.”
Lester was about to say that he would give Bert that amount, but he caught his breath in time, and saved five dollars by it. He knew very well that Bert would never be obliged to ask him for money.
The sergeant hurried down to the superintendent’s office, where he found the officer of the day, who had just been making his report.
“I understand that Private Huggins abused my confidence, and that he stayed out all night on the pass I gave him yesterday,” said the superintendent, after returning Bert’s salute. “Perhaps you had better take a corporal with you, and look around and see if you can find any traces of him.”
Bert was delighted. Here was an opportunity for him to win a reputation.
“Shall I go to Oxford, sir?” said he.
“To Oxford?” repeated the superintendent, while the officer of the day looked surprised.
“Yes, sir. There’s where he has gone.”
“How do you know?”
“His room-mate told me so. He has run away intending to go to sea.”
[72]
“Well, well! It is more serious than I thought,” said the superintendent, while an expression of annoyance and vexation settled on his face. “He must be brought back. Was he going to walk all that distance or steal a ride on the cars? He has no money, and his father took pains to tell me that none would be allowed him.”
“He has plenty of it, sir,” replied Bert. “He broke into Private Brigham’s trunk and took a hundred dollars from it.”
The superintendent could hardly believe that he had heard aright.
“That is the most disgraceful thing that ever happened in this school,” said he, as soon as he could speak. “I didn’t suppose there was a boy here who could be guilty of an act of that kind. Sergeant,” he added, looking at his watch, “you have just fifteen minutes in which to reach the depot and ascertain whether or not Huggins took the eight o’clock train for Oxford last night. Learn all you can, and go with the squad which I shall at once send in pursuit of him.”
“Very good, sir,” replied Bert.
“Can I go?” asked Sergeant Elmer, as Bert[73] ran into his room and snatched his overcoat and cap from their hooks.
“I hope so, but I am afraid not. The superintendent will make up the detail himself or appoint some shoulder-strap to do it, and it isn’t likely that he will take two sergeants from the same company. You will have to act in my place while I am gone.”
“Well, good-by and good luck to you,” said the disappointed Elmer.
Bert hastened down the stairs and out of the building, and at the gate he found the officer of the day who had come there to pass him by the sentry. As soon as he had closed the gate behind him, he broke into a run, and in a few minutes more he was walking back and forth in front of the ticket-office, conversing with a quiet looking man who was to be found there whenever a train passed the depot. He was a detective.
“Good morning, Mr. Shepard,” said Bert. “Were you on duty when No. 6 went down last night?”
No. 6 was the first southward bound train that passed through Bridgeport after Huggins left the academy grounds.
[74]
“I was,” answered the detective. “Was that fellow I came pretty near running in last night on general principles one of your boys?”
“I can’t tell until you describe him,” said Bert.
“There was nothing wrong about his appearance, but I didn’t like the way he acted,” observed the detective. “He looked as though he had been up to something. He didn’t buy a ticket, and he took pains to board the train from the opposite side. He wore a dark-blue overcoat, Arctic shoes, seal-skin cap, gloves and muffler, and had something on his upper lip that looked like a streak of free-soil, but which, perhaps, on closer examination might have proved to be a mustache.”
“That’s the fellow,” said Bert. “Did he go toward Oxford?”
“He did. Do you want him? What has he been doing?”
“I do want him, for he is a deserter,” replied Bert. He said nothing about the crime of which Huggins was guilty. The superintendent had not told him to keep silent in regard to it, but he knew he was expected to do it all the same.
“Then I am glad I didn’t run him in,” said Mr. Shepard. “You boys always see plenty of fun[75] when you are out after deserters. But you can’t take that big fellow alone. He’ll pick you up and chuck you head first into a snow-drift.”
“There are one or two fellows in that squad whom he can’t chuck into a snow-drift,” said Bert, pointing with his thumb over his shoulder toward the door.
The detective looked, and saw a party of students coming into the depot at double time. They were led by Captain (formerly Corporal) Mack, who, having been permitted to choose his own men, had detailed Curtis, Egan, Hopkins, and Don Gordon to form his squad. A long way behind them came the old German professor, Mr. Odenheimer, who was very red in the face and puffing and blowing like a porpoise. The fleet-footed boys had led him a lively race, and they meant to do it, too. They didn’t want him along, for his presence was calculated to rob them of much of the pleasure they would otherwise have enjoyed. He was jolly and good-natured when off duty, but still pompous and rather overbearing, and if Huggins were captured and Lester Brigham’s money returned to him, the honor of the achievement would fall to him, and not to Captain Mack and his men.
[76]
“Young sheltemans,” panted the professor, stopping in front of the squad which Captain Mack had halted and brought to a front preparatory to breaking ranks,“I use to could go double quick so good like de pest of you ven I vas in mine good Brussia fighting mit unser Fritz; but I peen not a good boy for running not now any more. Vere is Sergeant Gordon?”
“Here, sir,” replied Bert, stepping up and saluting.
“Vell, vere ish dat young rascals—vat you call him—Hukkins?”
“He has gone to Oxford, sir,” said Bert, who then went on to repeat the substance of his conversation with the detective. Now and then his eyes wandered toward the boys in the ranks, who came so near making him laugh in the professor’s face that he was obliged to turn his back toward them. They were indulging in all sorts of pranks calculated to show their utter disapproval of the whole proceeding. Don was humped up like old Jordan, the negro he had so often personated; Hopkins was mimicking the professor; Egan, who had assumed a very wise expression of countenance, was checking off Bert’s remarks on his fingers;[77] Curtis was watching for a chance to snatch an apple from the stand behind him; while Captain Mack held himself in readiness to drop a piece of ice down his back the very moment he attempted it. These boys all liked the professor in spite of his pomposity and his constant allusions to his military record, but they would have been much better satisfied if he had remained at the academy. If they had taken time to consider the matter, they would have seen very clearly that the superintendent had acted for the best, and that he would not have showed any degree of prudence if he had left them to pursue and capture the deserter alone and unaided. There was no play about this, and besides Huggins was something worse than a deserter.
Just then the whistle of an approaching train was heard; whereupon Captain Mack was ordered to break ranks and procure tickets for himself and his party, Bert included. This done they boarded the cars, and in a few minutes more were speeding away toward Oxford.
“I don’t at all like this way of doing business,” observed Captain Mack, who occupied a seat with Bert. “I am not personally acquainted with Huggins,[78] but if there is any faith to be put in his appearance, he is nobody’s fool. He’ll not go to Oxford after stealing that money. If he went this way, he will stop off at some little station, buy another suit of clothes and keep dark until he thinks the matter has had time to blow over.”
“Perhaps you had better say as much to the professor,” suggested Bert.
“Not I!” replied Captain Mack, with a laugh and a knowing shake of his head. “I have no desire to give him a chance to turn his battery of broken English loose on me. He has done it too many times already. While I am very anxious that Huggins should be caught and the money recovered, I can see as much fun in riding about the country as I can in drilling; and if the professor wants to spend a week or two on a wild-goose chase, it is nothing to me. I put in some good solid time with my books last vacation, and I am three months ahead of my class.”
The captain was right when he said that Huggins did not look like anybody’s fool, and he wasn’t, either. When he first made up his mind to desert the academy, he laid his plans just as he told them to Lester Brigham; but one morning an incident[79] occurred that caused him to make a slight change in them. He saw Lester go to his trunk and take a five-dollar bill from a well-filled pocket-book which he kept hidden under his clothing. The sight of it suggested an idea to Huggins—one that frightened him at first, but after he had pondered upon it for a while and dreamed about it a few times, it became familiar to him, and he ceased to look upon it as a crime.
“It is easier to ride than it is to walk,” he often said to himself. “Lester doesn’t need the money, and I do, for I don’t know what I shall have to go through with before I can find a vessel. Oxford is a small place, and I may have to stay there a week or two before I can secure a berth, and how could I live all that time without money? I am not going to steal it—I shall borrow it, for, of course, my father will refund every cent of it. I know he will not like to do it, but he ought to have let me go to sea when I asked him.”
After reasoning with himself in this way a few times, Huggins finally mustered up courage enough to make himself the possessor of the coveted pocket-book. Unfortunately, opportunities were not wanting. Lester was hardly ever in his room[80] during the day-time, and it was an easy matter for Huggins to lock the door and break open the trunk with the aid of a spike he had picked up in the carpenter-shop. Then he bundled up some of his clothes, intending to ask for a pass and leave the academy at once. He got the pass, as we know, but found, to his great surprise and alarm, that he could not use it until after supper. It was no wonder that he showed nervousness and anxiety when Jones and the rest offered to lend him money to help him along. If he had not succeeded in satisfying them that he would not accept assistance from them, and Lester had gone to his trunk after the dollar, there would have been trouble directly. He escaped this danger, however, and as soon as he could use his pass, he made all haste to get out of Bridgeport.
“But I’ll not go to Oxford yet,” said he, when he found himself safe on board the cars. “The fellows said they wouldn’t tell where I intended to go, but when they made that promise they didn’t know that I had borrowed Brigham’s money.”
Just then the conductor tapped him on the shoulder and held out his hand for the boy’s ticket.
[81]
“What is the fare to the next station?” asked the latter.
“One twenty-five,” was the answer.
Huggins produced the money, and then buttoned his overcoat, settled back into an easy position on his seat, and tried to make up his mind what he should do next. Before he had come to any decision on this point, the whistle blew again, and the train came to a stop; whereupon Huggins picked up his bundle, which he had carried under his coat when he deserted the academy, and left the car. The few men he saw upon the platform were running about as if they were very busy—all except one, who strolled around with his hands in his pockets. Huggins drew back out of the glare of the lamps that were shining from the windows of the depot, to wait for an opportunity to speak to him. He had got off at a tank-station, but he did not find it out until it was too late to go farther.
Having taken on a fresh supply of coal and water the engine moved off, dragging its long train of sleeping-cars behind it, the station agent went into his office, closing the door behind him, and Huggins and the unemployed stranger were left alone on the platform.
[82]
“Good evening to you, pard,” said the latter, walking up to the boy’s place of concealment.
“How are you?” replied Huggins, who did not like the familiar tone in which he had been addressed. “Can you tell me which way to go to find a hotel?”
“Hotel!” repeated the stranger. “There’s none around here.”
Huggins started and looked about him. Then he saw that he had got off in the woods, and that there were only one or two small buildings within the range of his vision.
“Is there no house in the neighborhood at which I can obtain a night’s lodging?” asked Huggins, growing alarmed.
“I don’t suppose there is,” was the encouraging reply.
“Where does the station-agent sleep?”
“In his office.”
“How far is your house from here?”
“Well, I can’t say just how many miles it is.”
“What is your business?” asked Huggins, growing suspicious of the stranger.
“I haven’t any just now. I am a minister’s son, traveling for my health. I’ll tell you what[83] we might do, pard: if you are a good talker you might coax the agent to let us spend the night in the waiting-room. There’s a good fire there——”
Huggins waited to hear no more. The man was a professional tramp, there was no doubt about that, and the idea of passing the night in the same room with him was not to be entertained for a moment. He started for the office to have a talk with the agent, the tramp keeping close at his heels.
“I made a mistake in getting off here,” said Huggins to the agent, “and I would be greatly obliged if you will direct me to some house where I can put up until morning.”
“I should be glad to do it,” was the answer, “but there is no one right around the depot who can accommodate you. There is a boarding-house for the mill-hands about a mile from here, but I couldn’t direct you to it so that you could find it. The road runs through the woods, and you might miss it and get lost.”
“Why, what in the world am I to do?” asked Huggins, who, having never been thrown upon his own resources before, was as helpless as a child[84] would have been in the same situation. “Must I stay out doors all night?”
“Not necessarily. Where did you come from?”
“I came from Bridgeport and paid a dollar and twenty-five cents to go from there to the next station.”
“Well, the next station is Carbondale, which is three miles from here. There is where you ought to have stopped.”
“Could I hire a horse and cutter to take me there?”
“I don’t think you could.”
“I am able and willing to pay liberally for it.”
“Oh, you would have to go out to the mills to find a horse and a man to drive it for you, and you might as well walk to Carbondale at once as to do that.”
“When is the next train due?”
“The next train won’t help you any, for it is the lightning express, and she doesn’t stop here. You can’t go on the next one either, for she is the fast freight, and doesn’t carry passengers. You’ll have to wait for the accommodation which goes through here at six fourteen in the morning.”
[85]
“Then I suppose I shall have to pass the night in your waiting-room,” said Huggins, who was fairly at his wits’ end.
“Well, I suppose you won’t,” said the agent in emphatic tones. “I shall have to ask you to go out now, for I am going to lock up.”
“Don’t you leave a room open for the accommodation of passengers?” exclaimed Huggins, wondering what would become of him if the agent turned him out in the snow to pass the night as best he could, while the thermometer was only a degree or two above zero. If it had been summer he could have bunked under a tree; but as it was—the runaway shuddered when he thought of the long, cold hours that must be passed in some way before he would see the sun rise again. Here the tramp, who stood holding his hands over the stove, put in a word to help Huggins; but he only made a bad matter worse. The heart of the station agent was not likely to be moved to pity by any such advocate as he was. He carried a very hard-looking face, he was rough and unkempt, and his whole appearance was against him. Besides, he did not speak in a way calculated to carry his point.
[86]
“I don’t see what harm it will do for us to sit by your fire,” said he, in angry tones.
“I don’t care whether you see any harm in it or not,” said the agent, taking a bunch of keys from his pocket. “I know what my orders are, and I intend to obey them. Come now, move; both of you.”
“I wish you would tell me what to do,” said Huggins, as he turned toward the door. “I am not in this man’s company, and neither am I interceding for him. I am speaking for myself alone.”
“I can’t help that. If I let you in I must let him in too; but my orders are to turn everybody out when I lock up. The best thing you can do is to strike out for Carbondale at your best pace. The night is clear, and you can’t miss the way if you follow the railroad. There are no bridges or trestle-works for you to cross, and no cattle-guards to fall into. If you make haste, you can get there before the hotels shut up. Go on, now!”
The agent arose from his chair as he said this, and Huggins and the tramp opened the door and went out into the cold.