A NIGHT ATTACK.
“Squad, halt! No. 4.”
It was Thursday afternoon, and the relief was going its rounds. When his
number was called Bert Gordon stepped forward, and holding his musket at
“arms port,” prepared to receive the orders which the sentry whom he was
about to relieve had to pass, while the two corporals stood by and
listened.
“My instructions are to stop anybody who may attempt to go out of the
lines without a pass, and to keep a good lookout for prowlers,” said the
sentry.
“For prowlers!” echoed Bert. “What is the meaning of that order?”
“I give it up,” replied the sentry. “I pass the command to you just as
it was given to me. If you see anybody prowling about on the other side
of the creek, call the corporal.”
The sentry fell into place in the rear of the squad, and the relief
passed on, leaving Bert alone on his post.
“Prowlers,” he repeated, over and over again. “I don’t understand it.
Why should there be any more danger from prowlers now than at any other
time? O!” he added, an idea suddenly occurring to him. “Perhaps they
think that Don and Egan will try to work their way back to camp this
afternoon. Well, if they do, they’ll not get by _me_.”
So saying, Bert settled his musket firmly on his shoulder and began
pacing his beat, casting suspicious and searching glances now and then
toward the bushes on the opposite side of the creek.
When Bert first learned that his brother and Egan had deserted the camp
he was almost overwhelmed with surprise and mortification. He supposed
they had committed a serious offence, one that would be sure to bring
disgrace and punishment upon them, and took it so much to heart that the
boys were obliged to explain matters to him. They assured him that the
deserters had not lowered their standing or forfeited the good-will of
the teachers, and that all they had to do to make heroes of themselves
was to outrun or outwit the parties that were sent in pursuit of them,
and make their way back to camp without being caught.
“They are heroes already,” said one of the students, with great
enthusiasm, “for didn’t they swim the creek during their flight? That’s
something that none of the fellows ever did before. I wish they might
get back all right, but the superintendent has sent Mack after them, and
he’s a bad one. He’s bound to catch them.”
This seemed to be the opinion of all the students; and consequently when
Corporal Mack returned to camp and reported that he had found Don Gordon
at the show disguised as a country boy, and had actually had his hand on
his collar, and Don had broken away and beaten him in a fair race,
notwithstanding the fact that he was incumbered by heavy boots that were
many sizes too large for him—when the corporal reported all this, the
boys were not a little surprised.
“It would have made you laugh to see him,” said the corporal, who had
the greatest respect for the boy who had so neatly outwitted him. “He
looked and acted so much like a born simpleton that I couldn’t make up
my mind that it was Don Gordon until he revealed his identity by walking
like a field-negro. Then I knew in a moment that he was the fellow I
wanted, and I—well, I didn’t get him, but I _would_ have got him if I
hadn’t been recalled. He had a suit of Asa Peter’s clothes on, and I had
Asa’s house guarded so that he couldn’t get his uniform.”
Why he had been recalled so soon, and at a time too when he had the
deserters “just where he wanted them,” the corporal could not imagine;
and neither could the rest of the students understand why their liberty
had been stopped so suddenly. On the day following that on which the
seven-elephant railroad show had pitched its tent in Bridgeport all
passes had been refused, and since that time no one had been outside the
gates except the mess-cooks. They were permitted to go to the spring
three times every day, and they always went under guard too. Such a
regulation had never been established before, and the students were at a
loss to know the meaning of it.
“It’s all Gordon’s fault and Egan’s,” said one of the boys. “They have
shown that a fellow can desert under the eye of a sentry, if he sees fit
to do so, and the superintendent is afraid that some of us will follow
their example. That’s the reason he sends a guard with the mess-cooks
when they go to the spring after water.”
“There’s where you are mistaken,” said one of the first-class sergeants,
in reply. “We are in the enemy’s country——”
The boys who were standing around laughed uproariously, and turning on
their heels, walked away. They had heard quite enough of such talk as
that, and wanted to know some good reason for the stopping of their
liberty.
While Bert Gordon paced his beat on this particular afternoon, he kept
one eye directed toward the bushes on the opposite side of the creek,
and the other turned toward the camp. The huge tent that had been
erected the day before for the accommodation of visitors, was already
pretty well filled; and from his lofty perch on the embankment Bert
could see his school-fellows strolling about in company with their
parents, or with their brothers and sisters, who had come hundreds of
miles to see the students in their summer quarters. Every now and then
one of the village hacks would drive in at the south gate and deposit a
load of ladies and gentlemen before the door of the superintendent’s
marquee. Every train that steamed up to the station brought a fresh
influx of visitors, and finally the camp began to present quite a
holiday appearance.
“Don’t I wish that my father and mother were among them!” thought Bert,
who began to feel lonely when he saw that almost every boy who was off
duty had hastened to the tent to receive some relative or friend who had
come there to see him. “If they didn’t live so far away they would
certainly be here; but, as it is——”
Bert suddenly stopped, and shading his eyes with his hand, looked
intently at something on the other side of the creek. He was certain
that the bushes toward which he directed his gaze, were suddenly and
violently agitated, as if some heavy body were working its way through
them. A moment later something that looked like a head crowned with
feathers was thrust cautiously into view; then a dark brown face
appeared and a pair of glittering eyes looked straight at him.
“What in the world is that?” muttered Bert, after he had winked hard and
looked again to make sure that he had not been deceived. “It can’t be a
head, and yet—it _is_ a head and nothing else. Corporal of the guard No.
4!”
The head, or whatever it was, bobbed down out of sight in an instant,
and presently the corporal came hurrying up.
“There’s something or other over there in the bushes,” began Bert, in
response to the non-commissioned officer’s inquiries.
“And it looked like a head with feathers on it, I suppose,” interrupted
the corporal, with some impatience in his tones. “I don’t see what is
the matter with everybody this afternoon. You are the third one who has
called me out for nothing.”
“But I didn’t call you out for nothing,” protested Bert. “My eyes never
went back on me yet, and I know that there is somebody over there in the
bushes.”
“I don’t dispute that. It is probably your brother or Egan who is
watching for a chance to creep by some of you sentries.”
“But they wouldn’t have feathers on their heads, would they?” demanded
Bert.
“O, get out!” exclaimed the corporal. “You didn’t see any feathers. You
only dreamed it.”
“Do you suppose that I have been asleep?” cried Bert.
“It looks like it, for I declare I don’t see how any boy who is wide
awake—Well, well, have it your own way,” said the corporal, who noticed
that Bert’s cheek began to flush and his eye to sparkle as if he were
growing indignant. “Just keep your eye on him and see that he doesn’t
get into camp; that’s all you’ve got to do. But I say, Gordon, we are in
for a good time to-night, are we not? Did you ever see so many visitors
before?”
“I never did,” answered Bert. “This is my first camp, you know.”
“Well, fellows who have been here during four camps say that they never
saw such a crowd at this stage of the proceedings,” continued the
corporal. “Our friends generally put in an appearance a day or two
before we break camp, and stay with us during the examination and over
commencement; and what it was that brought them here so early in the day
this year, I can’t imagine. But we are glad to see them all the same,
and we’re going to have a smashing hop to-night. Some of the fellows
have sent to town for the music.”
“You didn’t hear anybody inquiring for me, did you?” asked Bert, with
some hesitation.
“I did not. In fact, I didn’t hear anybody asked for. I took time to
kiss my mother and say ‘hallo’ to my big brother, and that’s all the
visiting I can do until I go off duty. Good-by, but don’t call me out to
look at any more feathers unless you can show them to me.”
“I saw them, I know I did,” said Bert, to himself, as the sentry walked
away. “No one can make me believe that I could be so badly fooled in
broad daylight. I wish I could have another look at them.”
Once more Bert turned his eyes toward the opposite bank of the stream;
but the head with the crown of feathers did not again show itself, and
he finally resumed his walk, feeling very lonely and homesick. Almost
every boy in camp had company—in fact he could not see a single student
wandering about alone—but no one had been heard to ask for him. He would
have been glad to see anybody from Rochdale. Even the sight of Dan
Evans’s tan-colored face would have been most welcome.
Bert stood his time out without seeing anything more of the feathers,
and finally the relief came around. Having stacked their muskets in the
guard-tent the sentries, some of whom had received notice of the arrival
of their friends, scattered in all directions, leaving Bert alone. He
strolled slowly along the street, lifting his cap whenever he met a
fellow-student accompanied by his mother or sister, and finally reached
the door of his own tent, which was crowded with the relatives and
friends of his mess-mates. He was about to pass on with a word of
apology, when a lady, whom he did not see until that moment, arose from
the camp-chair in which she was sitting, and a second later Bert was
clasped in the arms of his mother. General Gordon was there, too. He had
been visiting with his old friend and preceptor, the superintendent, and
was now looking over the fortifications in company with Mr. Egan, Mr.
Hopkins, and Mr. Curtis, all of whom were veteran soldiers. He came into
the tent in a few minutes, and when he had greeted Bert warmly, he asked
for Don.
“I’m sorry to say that I don’t know where he is,” replied Bert, who then
went on to give a hurried history of Don’s exploits at the show, as
reported by Corporal Mack. Mrs. Gordon listened with a shade of anxiety
on her face, but the general laughed heartily.
“Boys will be boys,” said he. “And so long as Don doesn’t break any of
the rules of the school, or carry his fun too far, where is the harm?
The superintendent thinks that he and Egan have played their parts as
deserters very well, and I think so, too. I should like very much to see
him, but I suppose I shall have to wait until he gets ready to come in.”
“You will not go home until you do see him, will you?” said Bert.
“O, no. We shall not return to Mississippi until you and Don can go with
us, and then we shall have company. Young Egan, Hopkins, and Curtis are
to spend a month at our house. I have just been talking with their
fathers about it.”
Bert was delighted to hear that this matter had been definitely settled,
and he wished that Don had been there to hear it too. He little dreamed
that his brother and Egan, who were at that very moment laying their
plans for getting into camp, were destined to be waylaid and taken
captive by those who had every reason for holding fast to them; but such
was the fact.
As Bert was to be off duty until midnight he had ample opportunity to
visit with his father and mother. He walked about the fortifications
with them, told them amusing and interesting stories of his life at the
academy, and ate supper with them in the big tent. When all had
satisfied their appetites with the good things that had been provided
for them, the tables were taken out, the Chinese lanterns that hung
suspended from the wires overhead were lighted, the music struck up and
the dancing began. Everybody, young and old, seemed bent on having a
good time, and the fun grew fast and furious. For an hour everything
passed off smoothly, and then there came a most unexpected and alarming
interruption—the ringing report of a musket, followed it made the cold
chills creep over every one who heard it. The music ceased, and the
dancers stood still in their places and looked at one another. There was
a moment’s hush, and then a whole chorus of blood-curdling yells, such
as no one in that company had ever heard before, rang out on the still
air. They seemed to come from all sides of the camp, and their effect
was most startling. The ladies screamed and ran to their husbands for
protection; the gentlemen stood irresolute, each one gazing inquiringly
into the face of his neighbor, and the students were thrown into a
stupor from which they were quickly aroused by the roll of the drum, and
loud cries of “Fall in! Fall in!”
“O, my boy, you mustn’t go out there,” exclaimed Mrs. Gordon, as Bert
dashed forward to obey the order. Her face was very white, and she clung
to her husband for support.
“Let him go,” said the general. “If he has any pluck at all, now is the
time for him to show it.”
He did not know what the matter was—there were few in that camp who
did—but he was a soldier. When he was in the service he had yielded
prompt and willing obedience to every order given him by his superiors,
no matter how great the danger he might incur by so doing, and he wanted
his boys to do the same thing. Bert proved that he had inherited a
goodly share of his father’s courage, for, although he was badly
frightened, he lost not a moment in obeying the order to fall in. He ran
into the guard-tent and seized his musket; but, to his great surprise,
he found that the bayonet that belonged to it was gone. In fact the
bayonets were all gone, and the pieces were stacked by the ramrods.
Utterly at a loss how to account for this, Bert caught up the weapon and
ran to join his company, which was forming on the street in front of its
own tents.
“Fall in!” commanded the boy captain. “Right dress!—Front! Order
arms!—Fix bayonets!”
These orders were promptly obeyed—all except the last. When the young
soldiers came to feel for their bayonets, they discovered that their
scabbards were empty. Before anybody could ask the meaning of this, an
orderly hurried up with instructions for the captain to move his company
by the left flank, and take up a position in reserve, so as to protect
the big tent and its occupants.
All this while those hideous yells had been arising on all sides, and
now they were accompanied by the discharge of fire-arms. These
discharges rapidly increased in number and frequency, until it seemed as
if the camp were surrounded by a wall of flame; and still nobody knew
what was the matter. As Bert’s company wheeled into position the first
company went by, moving at double time, and disappeared in the darkness;
and a few moments later, rapid platoon firing sounded in the direction
of the bridge. Then the students began to understand the matter.
“It’s a sham fight,” said the boy who stood at Bert’s elbow.
“But who are our assailants?” asked the latter, who was greatly
relieved.
That was a question the boy could not answer, but Bert was able to
answer it for himself a few minutes later. The fight at the bridge
increased in fury, and the first company, finding its position there
untenable, was ordered to fall back so that the artillery could have a
chance to come into play. Encouraged by this retrograde movement the
enemy rushed across the bridge in overwhelming numbers, pressing the
young soldiers so closely that the retreat, which was begun in good
order, very speedily became a rout. The old German professor, highly
excited, ran up, sword in hand, and made frantic appeals to them to
stand their ground and defend the gate; but the ranks were hopelessly
broken. They came pell-mell through the tents and took refuge behind
Bert’s company, the members of which were thunderstruck. What kind of an
enemy was it anyhow, they asked themselves, that could throw the
well-drilled boys of the first class into such confusion as this?
“Young shentlemens,” exclaimed the professor, flourishing his sword
angrily over his head, “I been ashamed of you. Such fighting is von
grand disgrace to the Pridgebort Military Academy. Captain Bumroy,” he
added, turning to the commander of Bert’s company, “go ahead and sweep
the enemy from the face of the earth. Make good piziness now.”
Captain Pomeroy and his men went about this work as if they were in
earnest. Holding their muskets at “arms port” they advanced in good
order, and when they reached the end of their company street, they found
out who the enemy were. They were Indians—veritable Indians, hideously
painted and dressed in all sorts of odd costumes. They had gained a
footing inside the works, and were engaged in pulling down the tents
preparatory to carrying them off. Excited as Bert was, he could
nevertheless calmly recall some of the incidents of the afternoon.
“Now I know the meaning of that order regarding prowlers,” said he to
himself. “I _did_ see somebody in the bushes with feathers on his head,
and it was one of these Indians who was reconnoitering our position.”
Being interrupted in the work of stealing the tents, the Indians
advanced in a body, brandishing their weapons and yelling with all the
power of their lungs. They hoped, no doubt, to frighten Captain Pomeroy
and his men, create a panic among them, and, having scattered them, to
take some of them prisoners; but in this they failed. The boys were so
very much in earnest, and so fully determined to save their tents, that
they came very near changing the sham fight into a real fight. Now
Captain Pomeroy saw why it was that the teachers had taken the
precaution to remove the bayonets. If his men had been provided with
those dangerous weapons, he would have charged the Indians without an
instant’s hesitation, and there was no telling what the young soldiers
might have done in their excitement.
“Steady!” commanded the boy captain. “Butts to the front! Strike!”
The order was obeyed with the greatest alacrity. Raising a yell, the
boys rushed upon the Indians, and if the latter had stood their ground,
there would have been a fight, sure. But fortunately they broke and ran.
The captain followed them as far as the gate, and then drawing his men
up in platoon front, opened a hot fire of blank cartridges on the
bridge.
“Vell done, Captain Bumroy,” said the German professor, who had kept a
sharp eye on the whole proceeding. “Vell done. Ven you been in my good
Brussia and fights like dot in a true pattle, you gets a decoration from
the Emperor. Aha! Now stay here, and don’t let them red fellows come in
some more.”
Meanwhile the rest of the battalion had not been idle. The battery had
been in almost constant use; the first platoon of the second company had
successfully defended the south gate; and the second platoon, assisted
by the third company, had held the rest of the works, repulsing every
charge that had been made upon them. The artillery roared, small arms
popped, the threatening war-whoops of the Indians were answered by yells
of defiance from the boy soldiers—in short, there was nothing wanting to
make a real fight of it except bullets and bayonets. This state of
affairs continued for half an hour, during which the different companies
were handled just as they would have been in action, and then the firing
ceased as suddenly as it had begun. The battle was over. Just then an
orderly from headquarters stepped up and saluted Captain Pomeroy.
“The superintendent presents his compliments and requests that you will
keep a lookout for a delegation from the Indian camp,” said he. “Should
any appear, you will receive it and send it to the big tent under
guard.”
The young captain at once detailed a corporal’s guard to wait at the
bridge and escort the expected delegation inside the lines; and scarcely
had the squad disappeared before it came in again, accompanied by half a
dozen stately Indians, who were closely wrapped up in their blankets.
They were fine-looking fellows, in spite of their feathers and paint,
and if they had been entering a hostile camp they could not have behaved
with more dignity and seriousness.
“What do you want?” demanded Captain Pomeroy.
“Want to see big chief,” grunted one of the Indians, in reply.
“Have you any weapons about you?” inquired the captain, recalling the
stratagem to which Pontiac resorted when he tried to capture Detroit.
The Indians shook their heads, but the captain, as in duty bound,
ordered them to be searched; after which he told his first lieutenant to
take command of the squad, and to conduct the visitors to the big tent.
Then, as there was no danger to be apprehended so long as the delegation
was in camp, he placed a guard at the gate, and allowed the rest of his
men to stack arms and sit down on the grass. At the end of half an hour,
two of the Indians came back, guarded by the lieutenant and his squad,
and accompanied by the officer of the day.
“Captain Pomeroy,” said the latter, “pass these two chiefs, and stand
ready to receive them when they return.”
“Very good, sir,” replied the captain. “What did they do in the big
tent, Perkins?” he asked of his lieutenant, as soon as the officer of
the day had retired; “and who are they, any way?”
“Why, they are Mount Pleasant Indians,” answered the lieutenant, who,
during his absence, had had opportunity to talk with some of the boys in
the first class who knew all about the matter. “They are principally
farmers and mechanics; but there are one or two professional men among
them—school teachers and the like.”
“Well, I declare!” exclaimed the captain. “They haven’t forgotten how to
give the war-whoop if they are civilized, have they? Of course this
night’s work was a put-up job?”
“Certainly it was. The superintendent wanted to do something to amuse
us, so he went out to their reservation, which is about twenty miles
from here, and easily induced the head-chief to promise to bring in
three hundred of his young men on a certain night and make an attack on
us. Then he wrote to our parents; and that’s what brought this crowd
here to-day.”
“Ah! That explains it. But they didn’t know anything about it, for I
noticed that some of them were as frightened as we were. Didn’t you hear
the women scream? I thought the girl I was dancing with was going to
faint, she turned so white. What did they do in the big tent?”
“O, they held a pow-wow there in the presence of all our guests, smoking
a pipe and going through all the motions of a regular Indian peace
commission. The chief made a speech (I tell you it was a good one and
astonished everybody), during which he said that his young men had taken
some prisoners whom he would be happy to surrender——”
“Prisoners!” repeated the captain, incredulously.
“Yes. Eight of the first-class boys are missing. You see this company
was thrown into confusion when they fell back from the bridge, and as
soon as they became separated, the Indians jumped in and dragged some of
them off.”
“Well, they didn’t serve me that way,” said Captain Pomeroy, with an air
of triumph. “They had the impudence to try to steal my boys’ tents; but
when we turned butts to the front, didn’t they dig out in a hurry?”
Lieutenant Perkins, who had borne his full part in that gallant charge,
said he thought they did.