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THE FLAG
By
HOMER GREENE
Author of
"The Unhallowed Harvest,"
"Pickett's Gap," "The Blind Brother," etc.
[Illustration]
PHILADELPHIA
GEORGE W. JACOBS & CO
PUBLISHERS
_Copyright, 1917
George W. Jacobs & Company_
_All rights reserved
Printed in U. S. A._
[Illustration: He Glared Defiantly About Him]
List of Illustrations
He Glared Defiantly About Him _Frontispiece_
Aleck Turned it Upside Down and Rightside Up,
But Failed to Find the Place _Facing p. 54_
Into the Face of Death He Led the Remnant of
His Brave Platoon " 274
The French Hospital's Greeting to the
American Colonel " 316
THE FLAG
CHAPTER I
Snow everywhere; freshly fallen, white and beautiful. It lay unsullied
on the village roofs, and, trampled but not yet soiled, in the village
streets. The spruce trees on the lawn at Bannerhall were weighted with
it, and on the lawn itself it rested, like an ermine blanket, soft and
satisfying. Down the steps of the porch that stretched across the
front of the mansion, a boy ran, whistling, to the street.
He was slender and wiry, agile and sure-footed. He had barely reached
the gate when the front door of the square, stately old brick house
was opened and a woman came out on the porch and called to him.
"Pen!"
"Yes, Aunt Millicent." He turned to listen to her.
"Pen, don't forget that your grandfather's going to New York on the
five-ten train, and that you are to be at the station to see him off."
"I won't forget, auntie."
"And then come straight home."
"Straight as a string, Aunt Milly."
"All right! Good-by!"
"Good-by!"
He passed through the gate, and down the street toward the center of
the village. It was the noon recess and he was on his way back to
school where he must report at one-fifteen sharp. He had an abundance
of time, however, and he stopped in front of the post-office to talk
with another boy about the coasting on Drake's Hill. It was while he
was standing there that some one called to him from the street. Seated
in an old-fashioned cutter drawn by an old gray horse were an old man
and a young woman. The woman's face flushed and brightened, and her
eyes shone with gladness, as Pen leaped from the sidewalk and ran
toward her.
"Why, mother!" he cried. "I didn't expect to see you. Are you in for a
sleigh-ride?"
She bent over and kissed him and patted his cheek before she replied,
"Yes, dearie. Grandpa had to come to town; and it's so beautiful after
the snow that I begged to come along."
Then the old man, round-faced and rosy, with a fringe of gray whiskers
under his chin, and a green and red comforter about his neck, reached
out a mittened hand and shook hands with Pen.
"Couldn't keep her to hum," he said, "when she seen me hitchin' up old
Charlie."
He laughed good-naturedly and tucked the buffalo-robe in under him.
"How's grandma?" asked Pen.
"Jest about as usual," was the reply. "When you comin' out to see us?"
"I don't know. Maybe a week from Saturday. I'll see."
Then Pen's mother spoke again.
"You were going to school, weren't you? We won't keep you. Give my
love to Aunt Millicent; and come soon to see us."
She kissed him again; the old man clicked to his horse, and succeeded,
after some effort, in starting him, and Pen returned to the sidewalk
and resumed his journey toward school.
It was noticeable that no one had spoken of Colonel Butler, the
grandfather with whom Pen lived at Bannerhall on the main street of
Chestnut Hill. There was a reason for that. Colonel Butler was Pen's
paternal grandfather; and Colonel Butler's son had married contrary to
his father's wish. When, a few years later, the son died, leaving a
widow and an only child, Penfield, the colonel had so far relented as
to offer a home to his grandson, and to provide an annuity for the
widow. She declined the annuity for herself, but accepted the offer of
a home for her son. She knew that it would be a home where, in charge
of his aunt Millicent, her boy would receive every advantage of care,
education and culture. So she kissed him good-by and left him there,
and she herself, ill, penniless and wretched, went back to live with
her father on the little farm at Cobb's Corners, five miles away. But
all that was ten years before, and Pen was now fourteen. That he had
been well cared for was manifest in his clothing, his countenance,
his bearing and his whole demeanor as he hurried along the partly
swept pavement toward his destination.
A few blocks farther on he overtook a school-fellow, and, as they
walked together, they discussed the war.
For war had been declared. It had not only been declared, it was in
actual progress.
Equipped and generalled, stubborn and aggressive, the opposing forces
had faced each other for weeks. Yet it had not been a sanguinary
conflict. Aside from a few bruised shins and torn coats and missing
caps, there had been no casualties worth mentioning. It was not a
country-wide war. It was, indeed, a war of which no history save this
veracious chronicle, gives any record.
The contending armies were composed of boys. And the boys were
residents, respectively, of the Hill and the Valley; two villages,
united under the original name of Chestnut Hill, and so closely joined
together that it would have been impossible for a stranger to tell
where one ended and the other began. The Hill, back on the plateau,
had the advantage of age and the prestige that wealth gives. The
Valley, established down on the river bank when the railroad was built
through, had the benefit of youth and the virtue of aggressiveness.
Yet they were mutually interdependent. One could not have prospered
without the aid of the other. When the new graded-school building was
erected, it was located on the brow of the hill in order to
accommodate pupils from both villages. From that time the boys who
lived on the hill were called Hilltops, and those who lived in the
valley were called Riverbeds. Just when the trouble began, or what was
the specific cause of it, no one seemed exactly to know. Like Topsy,
it simply grew. With the first snow of the winter came the first
physical clash between the opposing forces of Hilltops and Riverbeds.
It was a mild enough encounter, but it served to whet the appetites of
the young combatants for more serious warfare. Miss Grey, the
principal of the school, was troubled and apprehensive. She had
encouraged a friendly rivalry between the two sets of boys in matters
of intellectual achievement, but she greatly deprecated such a state
of hostility as would give rise to harsh feelings or physical
violence. She knew that it would be difficult, if not impossible, to
coerce them into peace and harmony, so she set about to contrive some
method by which the mutual interest of the boys could be aroused and
blended toward the accomplishment of a common object.
The procuring of an American flag for the use of the school had long
been talked of, and it occurred to her now that if she could stimulate
a friendly rivalry among her pupils, in an effort to obtain funds for
the purchase of a flag, it might divert their minds from thoughts of
hostility to each other, into channels where a laudable competition
would be provocative of harmony. So she decided, after consultation
with the two grade teachers, to prepare two subscription blanks, each
with its proper heading, and place them respectively in the hands of
Penfield Butler captain of the Hilltops, and Alexander Sands commander
of the Riverbeds. The other pupils would be instructed to fall in
behind these leaders and see which party could obtain, not necessarily
the most money, but the largest number of subscriptions. She felt
that interest in the flag would be aroused by the numbers contributing
rather than by the amount contributed. It was during the session of
the school that afternoon that she made the announcement of her plan,
and delivered the subscription papers to the two captains. She aroused
much enthusiasm by the little speech she made, dwelling on the beauty
and symbolism of the flag, and the patriotic impulse that would be
aroused and strengthened by having it always in sight.
No one questioned the fact that Pen Butler was the leader of the
Hilltops, nor did any one question the similar fact that Aleck Sands
was the leader of the Riverbeds. There had never been any election or
appointment, to be sure, but, by common consent and natural selection,
these two had been chosen in the beginning as commanders of the
separate hosts.
When, therefore, the subscription blanks were put into the hands of
these boys as leaders, every one felt that nothing would be left
undone by either to win fame and honor for his party in the matter of
the flag.
So, when the afternoon session of school closed, every one had
forgotten, for the time being at least, the old rivalry, and was ready
to enlist heartily in the new one.
There was fine coasting that day on Drake's Hill. The surface of the
road-bed, hard and smooth, had been worn through in patches, but the
snow-fall of the night before had so dressed it over as to make it
quite perfect for this exhilarating winter sport.
As he left the school-house Pen looked at his watch, a gift from his
grandfather Butler on his last birthday, and found that he would have
more than half an hour in which to enjoy himself at coasting before it
would be necessary to start for the railroad station to see Colonel
Butler off on the train. So, with his companions, he went to Drake's
Hill. It was fine sport indeed. The bobs had never before descended so
swiftly nor covered so long a stretch beyond the incline. But, no
matter how fascinating the sport, Pen kept his engagement in mind and
intended to leave the hill in plenty of time to meet it. There were
especial reasons this day why he should do so. In the first place
Colonel Butler would be away from home for nearly a week, and it had
always been Pen's custom to see his grandfather off on a journey, even
though he were to be gone but a day. And in the next place he wanted
to be sure to get Colonel Butler's name at the head of his flag
subscription list. This would doubtless be the most important
contribution to be made to the fund.
At half-past four he decided to take one more ride and then start for
the station. But on that ride an accident occurred. The bobs on which
the boys were seated collapsed midway of the descent, and threw the
coasters into a heap in the ditch. None of them was seriously hurt,
though the loose stones among which they were thrown were not
sufficiently cushioned by the snow to prevent some bruises, and
abrasions of the skin. Of course there was much confusion and
excitement. There was scrambling, and rubbing of hurt places, and an
immediate investigation into the cause of the wreck. In the midst of
it all Pen forgot about his engagement. When the matter did recur to
his mind he glanced at his watch and found that it lacked but twelve
minutes of train time. It would be only by hard sprinting and rare
good luck that he would be able to reach the station in time to see
his grandfather off. Without a word of explanation to his fellows he
started away on a keen run. They looked after him in open-mouthed
wonder. They could not conceive what had happened to him. One boy
suggested that he had been frightened out of his senses by the shock
of the accident; and another that he had struck his head against a
rock and had gone temporarily insane, and that he ought to be followed
to see that he did no harm to himself. But no one offered to go on
such a mission, and, after watching the runner out of sight, they
turned their attention again to the wrecked bobs.
Aleck Sands went straight from school to his home in the valley. There
were afternoon chores to be done, and he was anxious to finish them as
soon as possible in order that he might start out with his
subscription paper.
He did not hope to equal Pen in the amount of contributions, for he
had no wealthy grandfather on whom to depend, but he did intend to
excel him in the number of subscribers. And it was desirable that he
should be early in the field.
It was almost dusk when he started from home to go to the grist-mill
of which his father was the proprietor. He wanted to get his father's
signature first, both as a matter of policy and as a matter of filial
courtesy.
As he approached the railroad station, which it was necessary for him
to pass on his way to the mill, he saw Colonel Butler pacing up and
down the platform which faced the town, and, at every turn, looking
anxiously up the street.
It was evident that the colonel was waiting for the train, and it was
just as evident that he was expecting some one, probably Pen, to come
to the station to see him off. And Pen was nowhere in sight.
A brilliant and daring thought entered Aleck's mind. While,
ordinarily, he was neither brilliant nor daring, yet he was
intelligent, quick and resourceful. He was always ready to meet an
emergency. The idea that had taken such sudden possession of him was
nothing more nor less than an impulse to solicit Colonel Butler for a
subscription to the flag fund and thus forestall Pen. And why not? He
knew of nothing to prevent. Pen had no exclusive right to
subscriptions from the Hill, any more than he, Aleck, had to
subscriptions from the Valley. And if he could be first to obtain a
contribution from Colonel Butler, the most important citizen of
Chestnut Hill, if not of the whole county, what plaudits would he not
receive from his comrades of the Riverbeds?
Having made up his mind he was not slow to act. He was already within
fifty feet of the platform on which the gray-mustached and stern-faced
veteran of the civil war was impatiently marching up and down. An
empty sleeve was pinned to the breast of the old soldier's coat; but
he stood erect, and his steps were measured with soldierly precision.
He had stopped for a moment to look, with keener scrutiny, up the
street which led to the station. Aleck stepped up on the platform and
approached him.
"Good evening, Colonel Butler!" he said.
The man turned and faced him.
"Good evening, sir!" he replied. "You have somewhat the advantage of
me, sir."
"My name is Aleck Sands," explained the boy. "My father has the
grist-mill here. Miss Grey, she is our teacher at the graded school,
and she gave me a paper--"
Colonel Butler interrupted him.
"A pupil at the graded school are you, sir? Do you chance to know a
lad there by the name of Penfield Butler; and if you know him can you
give me any information concerning his whereabouts this evening?"
"Yes, sir. I know him. After school he started for Drake's Hill with
some other Hill boys to go a coasting."
"Ah! Pleasure before duty. He was to have met me here prior to the
leaving of the train. I have little patience, sir, with boys who
neglect engagements to promote their own pleasures."
He had such an air of severity as he said it, that Aleck was not sure
whether, after all, he would dare to reapproach him on the subject of
the subscription. But he plucked up courage and started in anew.
"Our teacher, Miss Grey, gave me this paper to get subscriptions on
for the new flag. I'd be awful glad if you'd give something toward
it."
"What's that?" asked the man as he took the paper from Aleck's hand.
"A flag for the school? And has the school no flag?"
"No, sir; not any."
"The directors have been derelict in their duty, sir. They should have
provided a flag on the erection of the building. No public school
should be without an American flag. Let me see."
He unhooked his eye-glasses from the breast of his waistcoat and put
them on, shook out the paper dexterously with his one hand, and began
to read it aloud.
"We, the undersigned, hereby agree to pay the sums set opposite
our respective names, for the purpose of purchasing an American
flag for the Chestnut Hill public school. All subscriptions to be
payable to a collector hereafter to be appointed."
Colonel Butler removed his glasses from his nose and stood for a
moment in contemplation.
"I approve of the project," he said at last. "Our youth should be made
familiar with the sight of the flag. They should be taught to
reverence it. They should learn of the gallant deeds of those who have
fought for it through many great wars. I shall be glad to affix my
name, sir, to the document, and to make a modest contribution. How
large a fund is it proposed to raise?"
Aleck stammered a little as he replied. He had not expected so ready a
compliance with his request. And it was beginning to dawn on him that
it might be good policy, as well as a matter of common fairness, to
tell the colonel frankly that Pen also had been authorized to solicit
subscriptions. There might indeed be such a thing as revoking a
subscription made under a misleading representation, or a suppression
of facts. And if that should happen--
"Why," said Aleck, "why--Miss Grey said she thought we ought to get
twenty-five dollars. We've got to get a pole too, you know."
"Certainly you must have a staff, and a good one. Twenty-five dollars
is not enough money, young man. You should have forty dollars at
least. Fifty would be better. I'll give half of that amount myself.
There should be no skimping, no false economy, in a matter of such
prime importance. I shall see Miss Grey about it personally when I
return from New York. Kindly accompany me to the station-agent's
office where I can procure pen and ink."
Aleck knew that the revelation could be no longer delayed.
"But," he stammered, "but, Colonel Butler, you know Pen's got one
too."
The colonel turned back again.
"Got what?" he asked.
"Why, one of these, now, subscription papers."
"Has he?"
"Yes, sir."
Colonel Butler stood for a moment, apparently in deep thought. Then he
looked out again from under his bushy eye-brows, searchingly, up the
street. He took his watch from his pocket and glanced at it. After
that he spoke.
"Under normal conditions, sir, my grandson would have preference in a
matter of this kind, and I am obliged to you for unselfishly making
the suggestion. But, as he has failed to perform a certain duty toward
me, I shall consider myself relieved, for the time being, of my duty
of preference toward him. Kindly accompany me to the station-master's
office."
With Aleck in his wake he strode down the platform and across the
waiting-room, among the people who had gathered to wait for or depart
by the train, and spoke to the ticket-agent at the window.
"Will you kindly permit me, sir, to use your table and pen and ink to
sign a document of some importance?"
"Certainly!"
The man at the window opened the door of the agent's room and bade the
colonel and Aleck to enter. He pushed a chair up to the table and
placed ink and pens within reach.
"Help yourself, Colonel Butler," he said. "We're glad to accommodate
you."
But the colonel had barely seated himself before a new thought
entered his mind. He pondered for a moment, and then swung around in
the swivel-chair and faced the boy who stood waiting, cap in hand.
"Young man," he said, "it just occurs to me that I can serve your
school as well, and please myself better, by making a donation of the
flag instead of subscribing to the fund. Does the idea meet with your
approval?"
The proposition came so unexpectedly, and the question so suddenly,
that Aleck hardly knew how to respond.
"Why, yes, sir," he said hesitatingly, "I suppose so. You mean you'll
give us the flag?"
"Yes; I'll give you the flag. I am about starting for New York. I will
purchase one while there. And in the spring I will provide a proper
staff for it, in order that it may be flung to the breeze."
By this time Aleck comprehended the colonel's plan.
"Why," he exclaimed enthusiastically, "that'll be great! May I tell
Miss Grey?"
"You may be the sole bearer of my written offer to your respected
teacher."
He swung around to the table and picked up a pen.
"Your teacher's given name is--?" he inquired.
"Why," stammered Aleck, "it's--it's--why, her name's Miss Helen Grey."
The colonel began to write rapidly on the blank page of the
subscription paper.
"_To Miss Helen Grey;_
"_Principal of the Public School_
"_Chestnut Hill._
"My Dear Madam:
"I am informed by one of your pupils, Master--"
He stopped long enough to ask the boy for his full name, and then
continued to write--
"Alexander McMurtrie Sands, that it is your patriotic purpose to
procure an American flag for use in your school. With this purpose
I am in hearty accord. It will therefore give me great pleasure,
my dear madam, to procure for you at once, at my sole expense, and
present to your school, an appropriate banner, to be followed in
due season by a fitting staff. I trust that my purpose and desire
may commend themselves to you. I wish also that your pupil, the
aforesaid Master Sands, shall have full credit for having so
successfully called this matter to my attention; and to that end I
make him sole bearer of this communication.
"I remain, my dear madam,
"Your obedient servant,
"Richard Butler."
January 12th.
Colonel Butler read the letter over slowly aloud, folded the
subscription paper on which it had been written, and handed it to
Aleck.
"There, young man," he said, "are your credentials, and my offer."
The shrieking whistle had already announced the approach of the train,
and the easy puffing of the locomotive indicated that it was now
standing at the station. The colonel rose from his chair and started
across the room, followed by Aleck.
"You're very kind to do that," said the boy. And he added: "Have you a
grip that I can carry to the train for you?"
"No, thank you! A certain act--rash perhaps, but justifiable,--in the
civil war, cost me an arm. Since then, when traveling, I have found it
convenient to check my baggage."
He pushed his way through the crowd on the platform, still followed by
Aleck, and mounted the rear steps of the last coach on the train. The
engine bell was ringing. The conductor cried, "All aboard!" and
signalled to the engineer, and the train moved slowly out.
On the rear platform, scanning the crowd at the station, stood Colonel
Butler, tall, soldierly, impressive. He saw Aleck and waved his hand
to him. And at that moment, capless, breathless, hopeless, around the
corner of the station into sight, dashed Pen Butler.