“I say, fellows,” exclaimed Egan, the next time he found all his friends together, “there’s something going to happen during this camp that never happened before. The paymaster is coming here to settle with us.” “What do you mean by that?”
“I mean that we are entitled to a dollar a day for the work our company did at Hamilton,” replied Egan. “As we were under orders five days we have five dollars apiece coming to us from the State.”
“Do the wounded come in for that much?” inquired Hopkins.
“They belong to the company, do they not?” demanded Egan. “They are not to blame for getting hurt, are they? They will get just as much as the others.”
We may here remark that the Legislature gave[240] them more. Hopkins received a hundred dollars to pay him for his sprained ankle; the boy who was hit in the eye with a buck-shot, and who stood a fair chance of going blind from the effects of it, got eleven hundred; Stanley received six hundred, and so did each of the boys who were shot at Don Gordon’s side when the company was ordered out of the car.
“I’ll never spend those five dollars,” said Don.
“Neither will I,” chimed in Hopkins. “If I get the money all in one bill, I’ll have it framed and hang it up in my room beside a fox-brush which I won at the risk of my neck.”
“I wonder how mine would look hung around the neck of that white swan that led me such a race two winters ago,” said Egan. “I think they will go well together, and every time I look at them, they will remind me of the most exciting incident of my life. Gordon, you’ll have to make yours into a rug and spread it on the floor beside the skin of that bear that came so near making an end of Lester Brigham.”
The boys had only three days more to devote to study during the school term, and much lost time to make up. The work was hard, they found it[241] almost impossible to keep their minds upon their books, and everybody, teachers as well as students, was glad when the first day of August arrived, and the battalion took up its line of march for its old camping ground. The students were hardly allowed time to become settled in their new quarters before their friends began to flock into the camp. A few fathers and guardians came there with the intention of taking their sons and wards from the school at once—they did not want them to remain if they were expected to risk their lives in fighting rioters. Some of the timid ones were glad to go; but the others, who were full of military ardor, begged hard to be permitted to complete the course, and pleaded their cause with so much ability that their fathers relented, and even took the trouble to hunt up Professor Kellogg and congratulate him on having “broken the back-bone” of the Hamilton riot.
Lester Brigham’s father and mother were among the visitors, and so were General Gordon and his wife. The former were very indignant when they left Rochdale. Mr. Brigham repeatedly declaring that it was a sin and an outrage for the superintendent to send boys like those under his care into[242] battle, and after he had told him, in plain language, what he thought of such a proceeding, he was going to take Lester out of that school without any delay or ceremony. But when he reached the camp, he did not feel that way. General Gordon reasoned with him, and when he shook hands with Lester, he said he was sorry the boy hadn’t been in the fight, so that he could praise him for his gallant conduct. Mr. Brigham didn’t know that Lester had hidden his head under the bed-clothes when the bugle sounded.
“I was afraid you would want me to leave the school,” faltered Lester, as soon as he had somewhat recovered from his surprise.
“By no means,” said his father, earnestly. “You boys will have full control of this government some day—did you ever think of that?—and now is the time for you to learn your duty as citizens. What are you going to be when this examination comes off? A captain, I hope.”
“I shan’t be anything,” replied Lester, who could scarcely conceal his rage. “I shall never be an officer, because I can’t see the beauty of toadying to the teachers. I’ll not stay here to fight strikers, either.”
[243]
“I sincerely hope your company will never be called upon to perform any duty so hazardous,” said Mr. Brigham; “but if it is, I want to hear that you are in the front rank. If you do not obtain promotion this examination, I shall think you have wasted your time.”
“I have invited a couple of my friends to go home with me,” said Lester, who wanted to make sure of a cordial reception for Jones and Williams, even if he and they were expelled from the academy for misconduct.
“I am glad to hear it,” said Mr. Brigham. “Your mother and I will endeavor to make their visit so agreeable that they will want to come again.”
“And Williams has invited me to go home with him next year,” added Lester. “He lives down in Maryland, a short distance from Egan and Hopkins. May I go?”
“Certainly. Make all the friends you can, but be sure that they are the right sort.”
“I’ve got his promise,” said Lester to himself, as he paced his lonely beat that night, “and he’ll not break it. But I must say he’s a nice father for any fellow to have. I thought sure he had[244] come here to take me home with him. He talks very glibly about my risking life and limb in defence of law and order, but would he take it so easy if he were in my place? I’ll not stay here another year, and that’s flat.”
Contrary to his expectations Lester Brigham, although he fell far behind his class in both deportment and studies, had not been left at the academy under arrest, and now he was glad of it. It was easier to get out of the camp than it was to leave the academy grounds, and he and his fellow-conspirators could hold a consultation every day. They began to exhibit some activity now, and among those who had agreed to accompany Lester on his “picnic” there was not one who showed any signs of backing out, or who even thought of it, with the exception of Lester himself. Three of their number had been taken home by their angry parents, but those who remained held to their purpose, and urged their leaders to decide upon a plan of operations. Lester, who had been rendered almost desperate by the extraordinary behavior of his father, was anxious that something should be done at once, and he and his two right-hand men had many an[245] earnest conference, the result of which was the promulgation of an order to the effect that none of the “band,” as they called themselves, should ask for a pass until they were told to do so.
“That will keep us together, you know,” said Lester and his lieutenants. “If one of us asks for a pass to-day and another to-morrow—why, when the time for action comes those who have already been out will be refused, and consequently not more than half of us will get away. Williams will have to go out to do a little scouting so as to ascertain when and where we can get a boat, but the rest of us must be content to stay in.”
Their first week under canvas was a busy one, as it always was. The fortifications, which had been thrown up the year before in anticipation of that fight with the Mount Pleasant Indians, must be repaired and camp routine established before liberty was granted to anybody. Before this work was completed many of their visitors took their departure. Among these were General and Mrs. Gordon, who wished Don and Bert a pleasant visit with their friend Curtis in his northern home, and Lester’s father and mother, who did not forget to give the boy a good supply of spending[246] money before they went, and to assure Jones and Williams that they looked forward to their visit to Rochdale with many pleasurable anticipations.
“That money is intended for the use of yourself and your friends,” said Mr. Brigham. “If it is stolen from you, or if the superintendent finds out that I gave it to you, it will be your own fault. If you will come home with a strap on your shoulder, I will give you as much more.”
During the second week passes were freely granted, and one of the first to go out was Enoch Williams, whose duty it was to find a suitable boat and lay plans for seizing it at a specified time. He was gone all day, and when he came back he was full of enthusiasm, some of which he communicated to Jones, who was the first boy he met after reporting his return. They exchanged a few whispered words, and then hurried off to find Lester.
“It’s all right, Brigham,” said Jones, gleefully. “Enoch has done his full duty, and deserves the thanks of every fellow in the band. We’re off to-morrow night.”
Somehow Lester did not feel as highly elated over this piece of news as his friends thought he[247] would. He wanted to desert and do something that would make the academy boys talk about him after he was gone, but he wished from the bottom of his heart that he had never said a word about running away in a boat.
“I think myself that I have planned things better than any other boy in the band could have done it,” said Enoch, with no little satisfaction in his tones. “I’ve got the boat, and now you must assess every fellow in the band five dollars.”
“What for?” demanded Lester.
“To pay for her, and to buy our provisions.”
“To pay for her,” echoed Lester. “I thought we were going to steal her.”
“So we are—after a while. Now I will begin at the beginning and tell you just what I have done: When I got down to the river I found that the cutter I wanted to take on account of her superior accommodations, had gone off on a cruise, and that there was only one yacht in port. But she’s a beauty, and I wouldn’t be afraid to go to Europe in her. She was anchored out in the stream, and while I was wondering how I could get aboard of her, her keeper came off in a dory and told me that if I wanted to take a look at the[248] schooner he would be glad of my company, for he was alone there. I went, and in less than an hour I had everything arranged. His owner is going on a cruise with a party of friends next Monday, and it took but little urging on my part to induce the keeper to agree to give the band a ride down the river to-morrow night, provided we would promise to come back when he said the word, so that he could have the schooner in her berth at daylight.”
“You didn’t promise that, of course,” said Lester, when Enoch paused to take breath.
“Of course I did,” answered Enoch.
“Well, you’re a good one,” exclaimed Lester, in deep disgust. “I’ll not go on any such expedition. A night ride on the river! There would be lots of fun in that, wouldn’t there? When I start on this picnic I don’t intend to come back to Bridgeport until I have had sport enough to pay me for the trouble of deserting, or I am captured and brought back.”
“Neither do we,” said Jones, as soon as he saw a chance to crowd a word in edgewise. “Let Enoch finish his story, and then see if you don’t think more of his plans.”
[249]
“I promised that he could come back with his vessel before daylight, so that his owner wouldn’t suspect that he had been doing a little cruising on his own hook,” continued Enoch, “but I didn’t say that we would come back with him.”
“You might as well have said so,” snapped Lester. “Where are we going to stay and what are we going to do without a boat to sail about in?”
“Wait until I have had my say, and then you may talk yourself blind for all I care,” retorted Enoch, who was beginning to get angry.
“Go easy, Williams,” Jones interposed. “We don’t want a row before we get out of camp. If we go to quarreling among ourselves there’s an end of all our fun.”
“I don’t want to quarrel,” said Lester, who did not like the way Enoch glared at him.
“Then wait till I get through before you pass judgment upon the arrangements I have made,” exclaimed Enoch. “I didn’t promise Coleman—that’s the boat-keeper’s name—that we would return to Bridgeport with him, and neither did I say that he could bring the yacht back, for I don’t intend that he shall do anything of the kind.”
[250]
“How are you going to prevent it?” inquired Lester.
“That’s ............