Henderson had tendered his resignation as captain of Company C the
day after he was suspended. He was surprised that he had received no
notice of the acceptance of the resignation, and had more than once
questioned the officers of his company since his return to school, but
none of them knew anything about the matter; so he was feeling very
uncomfortable about it, when, one morning, he received a summons to
Professor Keene’s office. He answered the summons promptly. Ten minutes
later, he left the office with his face brighter than it had been for
many days.
“I say,” he said, as he joined Crawford, who was waiting for him,
“would you believe it, Crawford, Keene won’t accept my resignation?”
“And you’re to remain captain?” said Crawford.
“Yes, and if Company C doesn’t win the prizes this time, I’ll know the
reason why. There’s Griffin ahead. Come on, I want to speak to him.”
Griffin was first lieutenant of Company C, and was quite as anxious
for that company to win as was Henderson himself, and so he entered
heartily into the latter’s plans for long and frequent drills during
the next four weeks.
Eager as the boys themselves were to win the prizes, some of them were
inclined to grumble before the month was over. They didn’t think quite
so much practice was necessary; but though they complained, they had to
submit to the captain’s orders.
It must be confessed that, as the important day approached, the
recitations did not improve, but the teachers were lenient, and made
all possible allowances.
This annual drill was always an affair of great interest to all the
pupils of the two high-schools. Even the boys not in the battalion, and
the girls, were quite as much interested as the cadets themselves, and
this year the interest was increased by the offer of a costly and very
beautiful gold medal in addition to the prize banner. The banner had
been held for the last two years by Company B of the Eastern school,
and of course that company and that school were as determined to retain
it, as the companies of the Central were determined to win it.
There was no finer company in the battalion than Company D, of which
Gordon was captain and Hamlin lieutenant. The boys of this company had
a hearty respect and affection for their officers, both personally
and officially. It was Gordon’s way to do his best whatever the work
in hand might be, and through all the past year he had carried out
that principle in regard to his military duties as well as in his work
in the class-room; and because he was always fair and just as well
as friendly with them, whether in the drill, on the playground, or
wherever they were together, the boys of his company were always ready
to carry out his wishes. This year, they were one and all determined
that their captain should wear the gold medal, and they themselves the
red ribbons of the prize company. Gordon himself wanted it too--of
course he did--but he would have scorned to win by any but fair means,
while Henderson was determined that by fair means or foul, Company C
should stand first.
The drill was to take place on the baseball grounds. There were in the
two schools seven companies, and each was to drill for thirty or forty
minutes, four companies drilling the first afternoon, and the remaining
three, the second.
Company C was second on the list of the first day, and Company D was
the last on the next day.
Henderson kept his company drilling from eight till ten o’clock on the
last night before the drill, and neither he nor any of his men were in
their seats in the school-room, the next morning. In fact, very few of
the cadets in either school put in an appearance that morning, and no
very great interest was manifested in the lessons by any of the pupils,
and the classes were dismissed an hour earlier than usual.
The weather was all that could be desired, being clear and cool for
a summer day. The gates were not to be opened till four o’clock, but
long before that time a great crowd had assembled, and horns, bells and
bugles kept up an unceasing din, while gay silk banners bearing the
letters of the different companies, and canes and batons wound with
ribbons were waving everywhere.
Every high school pupil who could be there was there, and all wore
ribbons. The boys wore small strips on which were printed the company
letters, but the girls fairly rioted in ribbons. Some wore them as
hat-bands, some as shoulder-knots with long streamers. Many had batons
wound with two or three colors, with bows and streamers at the end,
while yet others, and these usually very bright or pretty girls, wore
the colors of two or three, or even more companies, in one big cluster.
As soon as the gates were opened the seats were rapidly filled, and
long before the drill began every one of the six thousand places was
occupied.
Crawford had hired one of the boxes, and Freeman sat there with him.
Edith was there, too, but she sat with some of her friends on the
other side. Edith was a very pretty girl, and Crawford would gladly
have given her a seat in his box. Indeed, when he saw her, he sent
Freeman to ask her to join them, but she returned them a polite
refusal, and remained where she was, to Crawford’s secret vexation; nor
was this feeling lessened, when, a little later, he saw the cordial
welcome she gave to Clark, and the readiness with which she made room
for him at her side.
The judges were three army officers, and promptly at the appointed hour
they appeared on the field, and a moment later, Company A marched in
on the opposite side, welcomed by ringing cheers and shouts from their
friends, and ear-splitting horn salutes from their foes--that is, those
whose sympathies were with other companies.
Quiet fell upon the throng of spectators as the drill began, and all
eyes watched the boys in blue, some in breathless anxiety lest there be
some slip or blunder--some in equally great anxiety lest there should
not be.
The company did itself credit, and as all went smoothly, its eager
well-wishers began to believe that this time A would surely stand
first, when, almost at the last moment, the captain dropped his sword.
Poor fellow--he felt badly enough about it without the groan that he
could not help hearing, from the grand stand, and though not another
slip occurred, and he marched his men off the field in fine style, he
and they knew well that their chance was gone.
As they passed off, Company C marched on. Henderson’s dark face was
full of grim determination, yet there was a shadow of anxiety in his
glance as it rested for a second on the last man in the rear rank. That
was Baum. If any one blundered, it was safe to be Baum; but Baum had
done finely for the past month, surely he would do his best to-day.
So ran Henderson’s thoughts, as he led his men forward. No danger of
Henderson making a blunder. He meant to go to West Point yet, for all
his tastes were for a military life, and he had the manual at his
tongue’s end. No danger of his getting rattled. He was sure of himself
and sure of his men--all but Baum.
And Company C did well. As Henderson’s strong voice rang out, his
orders were obeyed with the promptness and exactness of clockwork.
The judges nodded approval, and made memoranda on their programs, as
order after order was given and obeyed. Henderson’s eyes shone, and his
heart beat high with proud satisfaction, and then--then, at last that
wretched Baum blundered. When the company was ordered to load and fire,
lying down, his discharge was so far behind the others that a shout of
derision broke from some of the rougher boys among the spectators, and
Henderson felt an insane longing to seize Baum’s gun and whack him over
the head with it.
And Baum, knowing well what was in his captain’s heart, felt _his_
heart sink into his boots as he wondered if he could possibly fire
at all the second time. How he did it he never knew, but the second
discharge was fine, and the poor fellow drew a breath of relief as he
braced himself to meet the storm that he knew would burst upon his head
the moment the drill was over. And it did. Henderson hardly waited
to get off the field, before he burst into a torrent of angry abuse
and vituperation, so bitter and so profane that it shocked the others
into silence, and no other boy said anything to Baum about what had
happened; and he, dropping into the most unnoticeable place he could
find, pulled his cap over his eyes and brooded over his “hard luck.”
Henderson, his face still dark with anger, joined Crawford and Freeman,
and sat there glowering at Company E. This being notoriously the worst
drilled of the seven companies, he had no fear of its gaining the
prize, and he gave but little heed to what passed till Company B came
on. Then he roused himself, and hastily scrawling a line on a slip
of paper, told Freeman to “Give it to that cub over yonder,” the cub
referred to being Baum.
Baum read the message, and his gloomy face lightened a little, as he
nodded to Henderson, and then proceeded to tear the note into tiny
bits, and presently he slipped away.
Shouts and cheers greeted the appearance of Company B, and banners
bearing that letter were raised and waved from every quarter. Pink was
the company color, and a large and very beautiful banner of pink silk
with B embroidered in the center, was set up in the front row of the
bleachers as the company marched forward.
Henderson scowled, and whispered something to a little fellow just then
passing his seat with a basket of candies and chewing gum for sale.
A silver dollar slipped into the basket, and a few minutes later the
candy boy delivered a second message to Baum, who had returned to his
seat.
Now all eyes were watching Company B, which seemed in a fair way to
win fresh laurels, as one manœuvre after another was swiftly and
dexterously executed. There was no blundering Baum to spoil the
shooting, and the captain of Company B, easy and self-possessed, was in
no danger of dropping his sword or committing any other blunder.
Henderson’s watchful face darkened yet more as the minutes passed, and
he cast uneasy glances toward the quarter where Baum now sat among a
noisy group.
In one of the manœuvers the company approached quite close to the
place where this group was sitting, and suddenly a score of voices
shouted an order, quite drowning the voice of the captain as he gave an
entirely different one. Only the men nearest to the captain understood
his order. The others, confused by the unexpected call from the seats,
hesitated, wavered, and obeyed the wrong order, and Company B’s chance
for the prize was gone.
“Good, good!” hissed Henderson in Crawford’s ear. “Baum managed that
beautifully. I can almost forgive him for his blunder now.”
“Did you tell him to do it?” asked Crawford.
“’Course I did. Didn’t I tell you I’m bound to have that banner by fair
means or foul?” replied Henderson. “We’re ahead now, spite of Baum’s
blunder,” he added, with his low, cruel laugh.
“Oh, look, look! Somebody’s pulled down their banner,” cried Freeman.
Sure enough, as Company B marched out with flushed and frowning faces,
their beautiful new silk banner was suddenly discovered to be missing
from the place where it had been raised. Who did it, or where it was,
only Henderson, Baum and the candy boy knew; but late that night, the
banner, soiled and rumpled, and looking as if it had been trailed in
the dirt, was left on the doorsteps of the captain of Company B. The
person who left it there rang the bell and disappeared before the door
was opened.
A year before, Freeman would have been quick to condemn such mean and
contemptible doings as these; but now he said nothing, as Henderson
openly rejoiced over the discomfiture of Company B; and Crawford,
though he said little, evidently saw nothing amiss in the methods
employed.
“Here come the F’s. No danger of their winning,” Freeman said, as the
final drill of the first day began.
Company F was the last formed of the seven. It had had but little
practice, and nobody expected it to win, and nobody’s expectations were
disappointed.
There might about as well have been no school the next day, for so
great was the prevailing excitement that it was impossible for the boys
to settle down to work.
The interest was even greater than on the first day. Before school and
at recess hot discussions were carried on over the first three drills
of the previous day, and much sympathy was expressed for Company B.
“It was a contemptible piece of business--calling out the wrong order
as those fellows did,” Hamlin said indignantly, “and I, for one, am
heartily ashamed that any of our fellows had a hand in it.”
“Who says any of our fellows _did_ have a hand in it?” said Coyle,
angrily.
“I _know_ they did, for I saw some of them yelling,” replied Hamlin,
“and a fellow that sat right by them gave me the names of some of our
fellows who shouted the wrong order.”
“He might have been in better business,” growled Coyle, to which Hamlin
quickly responded, “_They_ might have been in better business. And then
to pull down B’s flag just then, was too mean for anything.”
“The B’s are all Easterns. It’s time the Centrals got the prize,” cried
Green.
“I want the Centrals to win, as much as anybody, I guess,” replied
Hamlin, “but if we can’t win fairly I’d rather lose.”
“You would--would you?” said Henderson. “Well, I wouldn’t, then. That
banner and medal ought to belong to a Central company. All’s fair in
love and war,” he added, winking at Green.
“Well, I know that Company D will do its level best this afternoon, and
I don’t believe that anybody wants those prizes any more than we do,
but if we win, we’ll win fair,” answered Hamlin, and Gordon, who had
just joined the group, added quietly, “So we will, Hamlin.”
“Not much danger of Company D winning,” said Henderson with a sneer.
“The good little boys will get left again, this time.”
“Perhaps--if yesterday’s doings are repeated,” said Hamlin
significantly, as the bell called them to order.
Gordon and Hamlin were the only members of Company D at school that
morning, and Mr. Horton dismissed them at one o’clock.
As they left the building Hamlin said, “Gordon, I believe Henderson
means to play us some mean trick like that they served Company B
yesterday. He’s bound and determined to win the prizes, and I believe
that he’ll stop at nothing to gain his end.”
“I’m a good deal of your opinion, Hamlin,” Gordon replied. “He’s
perfectly unscrupulous, but I really don’t believe that he could rattle
us as he did them yesterday. You see, we shall be on the lookout for
him, now.”
“I don’t think myself that that plan would succeed with our men, but
you see he’ll probably hatch up some new scheme that we haven’t thought
of,” said Hamlin.
“Well, we won’t borrow trouble, Hamlin,” said Gordon. “We’ve only to do
our best, and not worry over what may happen.”
Again, as on the day before, Crawford and Freeman were in one of the
boxes, and Henderson was with them, and Clark again joined Edith and
her friends, but to-day he was even more grave than usual, and his dark
eyes cast quick, searching glances here, there and everywhere, but
most frequently at the end of the row, where Baum, Green, Coyle and
others of the Antis were gathered.
“Why Edith, you have come out in company colors too, to-day,” Clark
said suddenly, noticing the pale blue ribbons she wore.
Edith colored a little. “The girls would make me wear them,” she said.
“They are all interested in Company D. Two of them have brothers in
that company, you know.”
“Yes, I know,” said Clark, absently.
Edith, following the direction of his eyes, leaned forward, and looked
intently at the group of boys he was watching. “Do all those boys
belong in your section?” she asked.
“Most of them do,” Clark answered, “and they are no credit to the
section either--some of them.”
“I wish Ray would come back here with us,” Edith said, sadly. “He used
to go everywhere with me, but he never goes anywhere with me now.”
Clark longed to say something to comfort her, but he did not know what
to say, so he was silent.
Promptly at four o’clock, Company E appeared. In spite of her troubled
thoughts, Edith could not help laughing, as a woman in the front seat,
at sight of her boy in the ranks, cried out, “There he is! There’s
Johnny!” and as a welcoming cheer greeted the approaching company,
Johnny’s mother not only joined heartily in it, but, rising, swung her
umbrella in the air and pounded the rail in front with it, while she
shouted, “Hurrah for Company E!”
But the crowd was a good-natured one, and those around her only laughed
as they dodged to avoid the blue umbrella that seemed quite likely to
hit somebody over the head, so great was its owner’s excitement.
Company E drilled well, and the joyful excitement of “Johnny’s” mother
increased as one evolution after another was performed without mishap.
But alas! There are so many chances, and so many possible mistakes! The
captain of Company E was so unfortunate as to lead his men so near the
grand stand in one of the marches, that the commanding officer ordered
them off, and this so confused the men that their firing was by no
means up to the mark.
Company G, the next in order, had a fiery, nervous little captain, who
was himself the cause of failure, as, in giving an order, he stepped
back too quickly, and ran into one of his men so violently as to throw
him down. The man recovered himself well, without throwing anyone else
out, but Company G’s chance was lost, and that they realized this was
evident from the faces of the boys as they left the field, passing near
the entrance, the last of the seven--Company D.
That this company had many friends among the spectators was evident
from the noisy welcome that rang out at its approach, and not once
during the two days had such a general silence marked the intense
interest as now. Edith’s friends had eyes and ears for nothing that was
going on around them. They scarcely breathed as Gordon’s clear voice
rang out, and his men, as if animated by a single spirit, obeyed his
orders.
Gordon’s sister sat next to Edith. Her fair face was flushed with
excitement, and her eyes never for an instant turned away from the
boys in blue, and their young captain. Once, when a gentleman near
exclaimed, “That’s the finest shooting yet,” Bessie Gordon’s hand
clasped Edith’s tightly, and her eyes shone with satisfaction, but she
spoke no word.
The company had just obeyed the order to lie down and load, when
Stanley Clark, with a smothered exclamation, sprang from his place and
dashed across to the open seats. As Edith looked after him in surprise,
Bessie gripped her hand again, crying out, “Oh Edith, Edith, look!”
and Edith looked just in time to see a giant powder-cracker strike the
ground not two yards in front of the prostrate boys, where it exploded
with a tremendous bang, the sound mingling with the discharge of the
guns.
Instantly, there was a medley of shouts, cries, cheers and hisses, but
Company D and its captain might have been blind and deaf for all the
attention they paid to the uproar. Not a man had flinched when they saw
that big cracker coming straight towards their faces, and not a gun had
failed to send its volley at the command to “fire!”
Professor Keene and the other teachers quieted the excited crowds
in the seats as quickly as possible, and without the slightest
interruption the drill proceeded, but when it was over, and Captain
Gordon, having saluted the chairman of the judges, turned to lead his
company off the field, the audience went wild. Cheer upon cheer rang
out. Banners, handkerchiefs, ribbon-decked parasols were waved with
reckless disregard of everybody and everything, while the retiring
company was literally pelted with flowers.
“It is evident that the audience has decided which is the prize
company,” remarked Professor Keene with a smile, to Bessie Gordon, “and
I quite agree with the general verdict.”
Bessie’s eyes were full of quiet happiness, now, but her cheeks were
still a little pale from the nervous excitement of seeing that blazing
cracker flying straight towards those faces that she knew would not
move a hair’s breadth to avoid it.
“Here comes the band,” cried half a dozen voices, as the strains
of martial music drew all eyes again towards the field, where the
regimental drill was now to take place while the judges were making
their decision.
But nobody paid very much attention to this. All were awaiting
impatiently the announcement of the decision, and when the chairman
of the committee declared Company D to have won the prizes, cheer
after cheer expressed the satisfaction of the audience; and when the
beautiful gold medal was handed to Captain Gordon, his men looked as
proud and happy as if each one of them was to wear it himself. It was
evident that they did not take half as much pride in their own red
ribbons as they did in their captain’s honors.
“Aren’t you proud of your brother?” said a girl near Bessie; and Bessie
answered frankly, “Indeed I am, Mollie.”
“You have reason to be, Miss Bessie,” added Professor Keene. “I am
proud to have him in my school. His influence is always on the right
side.”
Bessie’s eyes shone with delight at this public compliment to her
brother; but Edith turned away with tears in her eyes and an aching
heart, because her only brother could receive no such commendation.