RUNNING THE GUARD.
“Now, boys,” said Tom Fisher, “one at a time, but remember lively is the
word. Gordon, you had better stay back and watch the rest of us, and
then you will know how to proceed when your turn comes. We are not
afraid of Henderson, but still we don’t want to show ourselves to him
too plainly, for fear that the corporal of the guard or the officer of
the day may be loafing around somewhere within sight of his post.”
They had now reached the academy grounds, and half the time at their
disposal had already been consumed. They had barely fifteen minutes
left, and haste was necessary. As matters stood, all the floors and one
of the outside beats were in charge of boys who had been duly posted,
and would permit them to pass unchallenged; but these accommodating
guards would very soon be relieved, and their places taken by those who
would report them the first thing in the morning.
As Fisher spoke he pushed aside the loosened fence-pickets, squeezed
himself through the opening, and, with his body half bent, made his way
toward Dick Henderson’s post. Presently he threw himself upon his hands
and knees, and in a few seconds more was out of sight. Another and
another followed him, and finally Duncan took his turn, and Don was left
alone.
“Don’t be in too great a hurry,” were the latter’s parting words. “Let
me get out of your sight before you start.”
During the last hour and a half Dick Henderson had been walking his beat
in no very pleasant frame of mind. Tom had told him that he and his
friends would return some time between the hours of two and four; but at
three o’clock Dick had seen no signs of them.
“I wonder if they went in at some other part of the grounds,” Dick often
said to himself. “I can’t believe they did, for I think I am the only
fellow in our crowd who holds an outside post to-night. Besides, Duncan
said they would come in here, so that I could halt Don Gordon. They’ll
have to hurry up if they want me to do anything for them.”
As the minutes wore away Dick’s anxiety increased, and finally he became
really alarmed. The bell had struck three long ago, and Dick was
beginning to look for his relief, when, to his great joy, he saw
somebody creeping toward him through the deep snow. As soon as he caught
sight of him he moved back to his box and stood behind it, leaning on
his musket. The boy, Tom Fisher, crossed Dick’s beat in plain view of
him, uttering a peculiar cough as he passed, and disappeared behind the
high piles of snow that had been thrown out of the path leading to the
academy.
“That’s one,” thought Dick, “and Duncan said there were to be nine in
the party. I am to allow eight of them to go in peace, and the ninth
man, who will be Don Gordon, is to be halted and turned over to the
tender mercies of the officer of the day. That is two,” he added, as
another boy crept by, giving the “signal” as he went.
When the eighth man was safely out of sight Dick shouldered his musket
and stepping out from behind his box, prepared for action. As he came
into view, a boy who was moving rapidly toward him, in a crouching
attitude, suddenly stopped, and then as suddenly plunged into the
nearest snowdrift, burying himself in it head and ears.
“That fellow is like an ostrich,” soliloquized Dick, as he walked
quickly along his beat. “He thinks that because his head is out of
sight, his whole body is concealed.”
Having taken up a position between the recumbent figure and the path
that led from his beat to the academy, Dick brought his musket to “arms
port” and sung out, in his loudest tones: “Who comes there?” immediately
following up his challenge with lusty calls for the corporal of the
guard No. 5. The last words had hardly left his lips when the prostrate
boy sprang to his feet, and coughing up the snow which had filled his
mouth and got into his throat when he made his sudden plunge into the
drift, ran toward the academy with surprising swiftness. Dick heard that
cough, and it affected him very strangely. He stood with open mouth and
eyes, gazing in the direction in which the boy had disappeared, while
his musket trembled in his grasp, and his face grew almost as white as
the snow around him.
“Now I’ve done it,” he said to himself, with no little alarm. “I’ve gone
and called the corporal for one of our own boys. What in the world shall
I do? Tom and Clarence will read me out of their good books, and I shall
have no one to be friends with, for those high-toned lads in the upper
classes won’t look at me. Well, if trouble comes of it, they can just
blame Duncan. He told me to stop the ninth boy, and I know I didn’t make
any mistake in counting them. But what shall I say to the corporal?
That’s what bothers me.”
Dick was obliged to come to a decision on this point very speedily, for
just then the door of the guard-room was thrown open, and the corporal
came out and hurried toward him.
“What’s the matter, sentry?” he asked, as soon as he had approached
within speaking distance.
“Some fellow has just run by me,” was Dick’s reply.
“Whew!” whistled the corporal. “Running the guard has begun rather early
in the term, hasn’t it? Who was he?”
“I don’t know,” answered Dick, and he told the truth.
“Whom did he look like?”
“I don’t know that, either. You can’t tell one student from another in
the dark, when they are all dressed alike.”
“Then why didn’t you catch him and find out who he was?”
“Catch him!” repeated Dick. “Cony Ryan’s grayhound couldn’t have caught
him. He ran like a deer.”
“Well, he’ll be stopped when he tries to get into his dormitory,” said
the corporal, indifferently. “I’ll go and see what the officer of the
day thinks about it. You’re sure this fellow, whoever he was, didn’t go
out since you have been on post?”
“Of course he didn’t,” said Dick, indignantly.
“Then Patchen” (that was the name of the sentry who held post No. 5 when
Fisher and his companions left the grounds), “will have to answer to the
superintendent for neglect of duty,” said the corporal, as he turned on
his heel and walked back toward the guard-room.
“And just as likely as not he will punch my head for getting him into
trouble,” thought Dick, trembling again. “But I didn’t mean to do it.
It’s all that Clarence Duncan’s fault, for he ought to have told me that
he was going to add more boys to his party. Don Gordon must be outside
the grounds yet, and perhaps some of our boys are with him.”
Meanwhile Tom Fisher, having gained the academy building in safety,
opened the back door, climbed two pairs of stairs, and felt his way
along the hall to the door that gave entrance to the floor on which Don
Gordon’s dormitory was situated. This door he unlocked and opened, and
stepping into the next hall saw the sentry who had relieved Charley
Porter at midnight sitting under the light reading a book.
“Ahem!” said Tom; whereupon the sentry laid down his book and walked
toward him.
“Well, you fellows have made a night of it, haven’t you?” said he, in a
cautious whisper.
“I should think so,” answered Tom. “Had a splendid time, too. The
pancakes were just as good as they used to be, and Gordon settled the
bill like a prince.”
“You had better go to bed, and be in a hurry about it, too,” said the
sentry. “It is almost time for me to be relieved.”
“I know it; but I promised to wait at this door and let Gordon in. He
has no key of his own.”
“If he doesn’t come along pretty soon he’ll not get in _this_ morning
without being reported, for Gulick comes after me.”
“Is that so? Then he’d better hurry, that’s a fact. I can’t wait much
longer for him without bringing myself into trouble.”
The sentry, who did not dare remain longer in conversation with Tom for
fear that the officer of the day or the corporal of the guard might come
quietly up the stairs and catch him at it, walked away toward the other
end of the hall, while Tom closed the door and stood there in the dark,
impatiently awaiting the arrival of Don Gordon. He heard his friends as
they crossed the landing one after another, and went on up to their
dormitories, but the boy he wanted to see did not make his appearance.
Presently some one jerked open the back door, slammed it behind him, and
came up the stairs in great haste.
“Who is that idiot, I wonder? He makes noise enough to arouse the whole
school. B-l-e-r-s,” whispered Tom, as the boy sprang upon the landing.
“R-a-m,” came the prompt response.
“Who is it?” continued Tom.
“Brown.”
“Well you are making a fearful racket, the first thing you know,” said
Tom, angrily.
“I am in a hurry,” panted the boy. “Here’s the very mischief to pay.
That fool Henderson has gone and challenged one of our fellows.”
“No,” gasped Tom, who was greatly alarmed.
“But I say he has, for I heard him. Come on. We musn’t stay here another
moment.”
“But I promised to let Gordon in,” said Tom.
“What do you care for Gordon? Let him go and take care of yourself.
That’s what I am going to do.”
So saying the boy went on up the stairs, leaving Tom to himself. The
latter could not make up his mind what to do. He knew that he was in
danger, but still he did not like to desert Don in his extremity. Don,
speaking in school-boy parlance, had shown himself to be a thoroughbred.
He could sing a good song, tell an interesting story, and, better than
all, he was provided with a liberal supply of pocket-money, which he
spent with a lavish hand. This was enough to raise him to a high place
in the estimation of Tom Fisher, whose own supply of dimes was limited.
“I have it?” soliloquized Tom, at length, “I’ll leave the key in the
lock, and if he succeeds in getting by the guard he can let himself in.
Of course he will have sense enough to fasten the door after him, and
put the key in his pocket. Henderson will have to explain his conduct in
the morning. He had no business to halt any of our fellows unless he did
it to protect himself.”
Tom hurriedly ascended the next flight of stairs, but scarcely had he
reached the top when the back door was thrown open again and another boy
came bounding up the steps. It was Clarence Duncan, who was
congratulating himself on the complete success of his plans. He lingered
a moment or two in the hall where Fisher had stood waiting for Don
Gordon, and then went on to his own dormitory. The floor-guard was so
very deeply interested in a dime novel that he did not appear to see or
hear him as he passed, and in a few seconds more Clarence was safe in
bed. He was just in time. He had not been between the sheets two minutes
before he heard the gruff tones of the officer of the day, who was
questioning the floor-guard. Clarence could not hear what they said, but
he knew what they were talking about. Presently he heard doors softly
opened and closed. The sounds came nearer, and at last the door of his
own room was opened, and the officer of the day, attended by the
corporal of the guard, who carried a lantern in his hand, stepped across
the threshold. The officer saw Duncan and Fisher lying with their faces
to the wall, apparently fast asleep, took note of the fact that their
clothes were deposited in orderly array upon the chairs at the side of
their beds, and departed satisfied with his investigations. In a few
minutes the relief came up, and Clarence began to breathe easier.
“Say, Fisher,” he whispered, “are you asleep?”
“No,” was the reply. “And what’s more, I don’t want to go to sleep. If I
do, I am afraid I shall miss roll-call, and then the superintendent
would know where to look to find at least one fellow who ran the
guards.”
“I think myself that it would be a good plan for us to keep awake. Say,
Fisher,” whispered Clarence, again, “Gordon’s goose is cooked.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I mean just what I say. I shall be amply revenged on him for the
insults he has heaped upon us. When we came through the fence I managed
to keep him until the last, and Henderson halted him. I didn’t know but
he might succeed in getting by in spite of Dick’s efforts to stop him,
so, in order to make assurance doubly sure, I took the pains to examine
the door in the second hall, and in it I found a key that some kind
friend had left there for his benefit. But I just took the key out of
that lock, and put it into my pocket. Don can’t possibly get in without
being reported by the floor-guard, and he can take his choice between
freezing outside and giving himself up to the corporal.”
“Did you tell Henderson to halt him?” demanded Fisher, who had listened
with the greatest amazement to this astounding revelation.
“Yes, sir, I did,” chuckled Duncan, who seemed to be highly elated. “I
posted Dick yesterday afternoon, and he carried out my idea to a dot. I
didn’t expect to get even with Gordon so soon, did you?”
“Well, of all the blunder-heads I ever saw you are the greatest,” said
Tom, in deep disgust.
“Why, what’s the matter?” demanded Duncan, who was now surprised in his
turn. “What are you going to do?” he added, as Tom got out of his bed
and moved toward the door.
“I am going to see if there is any chance for me to undo your miserable
work,” replied Tom, who was so enraged that he could scarcely speak.
“You have made a nice mess by your meddling. Why didn’t you ask the
advice of the rest of us before issuing any orders on your own
responsibility? You’re just a trifle too smart to be of any use to me
hereafter.”
Opening the door Tom looked out into the hall, and saw at a glance that
he could do nothing to help the unlucky Don. He had intended, if it were
possible, to go down to the lower floor and put the key back in the lock
so that Don could use it in case he succeeded by any chance in getting
past the sentry; but he could not carry this plan into execution now,
because the floor-guard who had permitted himself and Duncan and all the
other boys who belonged on that floor to pass unnoticed, had been
relieved, and his chair was occupied by a boy who could not be fooled
with.
“Anything wanting, Fisher?” asked the sentry, looking up from his book.
“I thought somebody came into my room a few minutes ago,” said Tom, in
reply.
“So there did. It was the officer of the day.”
“What did he want?”
“Not much of anything, only to make sure that you were in bed where you
belong.”
“What’s up?”
“Somebody has been running the guard; that’s all.”
“Did they catch him?”
“No; and neither did Henderson recognize him. There’s something
mysterious about it. As far as I can learn there is no one missing, and
the floor-guards are all willing to swear that nobody has passed in or
out of the academy since taps. Good-morning.”
As this was a hint that the sentry did not want to talk any longer, Tom
drew in his head and closed the door.
“Now I _am_ beat,” said he, aloud; and so was Duncan who had sat up in
bed and heard every word that passed between his room-mate and the
sentry. “Gordon was stopped by Dick Henderson, locked out in the cold
through your lack of sense, and yet the officer of the day finds him in
his room! How does that come? I can’t understand it.”
“Neither can I,” said Duncan. “But, Tom, what made you get so angry at
me?”
“I had two reasons for it. In the first place you had no right to tell
Henderson to stop Don until you found out what the rest of us thought
about it. You took altogether too much upon yourself when you presumed
to act for a dozen or more fellows in the way you did.”
“Have you forgotten that Gordon has repeatedly neglected to salute us,
and that he threatened to make spread-eagles of the pair of us?”
demanded Clarence. “I wanted to get even with him for that.”
“That’s no excuse. I want to get even with him too, and, what is more, I
intend to do it; but I never would have given my consent to your idea,
as you call it. While we were coming from Cony’s I made up my mind that
I would propose to the boys to take Gordon into full fellowship with us
and stand by him through thick and thin until near the close of the
term; and when we had enjoyed all the treats we could squeeze out of
him, _then_ we’d go for him. He’s got a lot of money, and, what’s more
to the point, he is perfectly willing to spend it.”
“That’s so,” said Duncan, thoughtfully. “Your idea is better than mine.
Why didn’t you speak of it before?”
“I should have thought your own good sense, if you had any, would have
suggested it to you,” answered Tom. “I have been thinking about it ever
since we left Cony’s. Your governor and mine have curtailed our
allowance, and unless somebody foots the bills for us, how are we going
to get any pancakes this term? Besides, we may want to borrow a dollar
occasionally, and I know Gordon will give it to us if we only handle him
right.”
“That’s so,” said Duncan, again. “I wish I had kept away from
Henderson.”
“So do I. We may see trouble over that thing yet. I wish it was morning.
I shall be on nettles until I see Don in the ranks. I hope he will get
in all right, but somehow I can’t bring myself to believe that he will.”
The two boys did not sleep a wink that night—or morning, rather. They
rolled and tossed about on their beds, waiting impatiently for the
report of the morning gun which finally rang out on the frosty air,
being followed almost immediately by the rattle of drums and the
shrieking of fifes in the drill-room. They marched down with their
company, and while the roll was being called they ran their eyes over
the Plebes who were drawn up at the farther end of the room. There was
Don Gordon in the front rank, looking as fresh as a daisy and as
innocent as though he had never violated a rule in his life.
“He did get in, didn’t he?” said Duncan, while he and Fisher were
clearing up their room in readiness for inspection. “He didn’t seem any
the worse for his night’s experience, either; but did you notice Dick
Henderson? His face was as long as your arm.”
Having received positive proof that Don had succeeded in reaching his
room in spite of the fact that the hall-door had been locked against
him, Tom and his companion, their friendly relations having been fully
restored by the unexpected and mysterious failure of Duncan’s “idea,”
became anxious to know how he had done it. During the two hours of study
that came after the inspection of their rooms, they did not look at
their books.
As soon as breakfast was over and the ranks were broken, they put on
their overcoats and went out in search of Don. They found him in a very
few minutes, for he was also looking for them. He was just as anxious to
know why he had been challenged while the other members of the party
were allowed to pass, as they were to ascertain how he had got back to
his room. Before any of the three could speak, Dick Henderson came
rushing up.
“O, boys!” he began.
“That will do for the present, Bub,” interrupted Duncan.
“Run away now, like a good little boy.”
“But I say, fellows,” exclaimed Dick.
“Well, say it some other time. We are busy just now.”
“Let him speak,” said Don. “I want him to tell why he stopped me this
morning.”
“I didn’t stop you,” replied Dick.
“That’s a fact, you didn’t. But you tried to all the same, and I want to
know what you meant by it.”
“Why, Gordon, it can’t be possible that you were—eh?”
Dick was about to ask Don if he was the boy who tried to bury himself
out of sight in a snowdrift, and who jumped up and ran toward the
academy when the corporal of the guard was summoned; but he was
interrupted by a look from Duncan. Then the latter pointed with his
thumb over his shoulder, and Dick, who understood the motion, beat a
hasty retreat, looking crestfallen as well as bewildered.
“He committed a most inexcusable blunder, and came very near getting the
whole of us into hot water,” said Fisher, who knew that he must offer
something in the way of explanation. “We will give him a good talking
to, and make him promise to be more careful in future. Now, Gordon, how
in the world did you get in?”
“Easy enough,” answered Don. “I say, boys, there’s lots of fun in
running the guard, and some little excitement too. I am ready to try it
again any night. Come on, and I will tell you all about it.”
The three boys linked their arms together and walked toward an
unfrequented part of the grounds, so that Don could give the details of
his exploit without danger of being overheard. We will tell the story in
our own way.