A SURPRISE.
There were two passenger trains that passed through Bridgeport every
afternoon going toward Hamilton, one being the regular mail, which was
due at five o’clock, and returning, left the city at four in the
morning. This was the train the graduating class intended to take, the
committee having chartered two extra cars to accommodate the members.
The other was the lightning express, which passed through the village at
one o’clock, and returned at four in the morning. This was the train on
which they were to come back. We mention these facts to assist us in
explaining some unexpected and astounding incidents which happened in
connection with this particular dinner.
The boys in the first class were impatient, as live boys always are when
they are waiting for something, and after they had got into their best
uniforms, they hardly knew what to do with themselves. Some of the very
uneasy ones strolled about the buildings and grounds in companies of
twos and threes, while others, and these were the fellows who had the
most self-control, read away the time in the library. Here and there, as
far away from his companions as he could get, might have been seen a
student who was walking about with rather an abstracted air, now and
then giving his hand a flourish, and all unconscious of the fact that
every one of his movements was observed and commented upon by interested
spectators, who would be sure to laugh at him afterward. These were the
boys who were expected to propose and reply to some of the toasts of the
evening.
The hours dragged their weary length away, and at last a sergeant
appeared upon the steps and roared out the command for the first company
to fall in. Almost before he opened his lips there was a rush made for
the armory, and when Captain Walker led his company into it, with
Colonel Mack marching in the ranks like any private, he found all the
students assembled to see him off—that is, all those about the building
who were not on duty. Eighty or more boys were out on leaves of absence
for the day.
There were no pale and anxious faces among the young soldiers now as
there were the last time a company was marched out of that same armory
to go to Hamilton; for these boys were not armed, and neither were they
going to the city to encounter an infuriated mob who would welcome them
with a shower of coupling-pins and brickbats. They were going to—well,
they expected a very different sort of reception. They got it, too, but
after all it was not just such a one as they had confidently looked for.
Everything being in readiness, the company moved out of the armory, and,
led by the band, took up its line of march for the depot, the four
dignified professors, who were to represent the faculty at the coming
banquet, riding sedately at a respectful distance in a close carriage.
When the ponderous iron gates closed behind the company, Don Gordon, for
the first time, found himself in command of the academy battalion.
Before twenty-four hours more had passed over his head, he declared,
with much gesticulation and many expletives, that if he had possessed
the full powers of a military commander he would have court-martialed
and hanged a score or more of fellows, who that night performed an
exploit that astonished everybody. It did more; it struck everybody
motionless and speechless with amazement, and, what was rather singular,
the particulars of it had the same effect upon all who heard them. The
listener first looked and acted as if he could not believe the evidence
of his senses, and then threw back his head and gave expression to his
feelings in a hearty peal of merriment. Even Don Gordon, angry as he
was, rolled on his bed and laughed until his sides ached and his eyes
were filled with tears.
The students enjoyed their ride to Hamilton, and made noise enough for
so many veteran soldiers. When the train approached the city limits they
quieted down, drew on their white gloves, picked up their valises, and
held themselves in readiness to disembark as soon as they received the
word of command.
“Dayton,” said Captain Walker to his first lieutenant, “you get the boys
out of the cars, and I will go with Mack and the president to hunt up
Blake and see where the music is. As soon as I find it, I will come back
to you.”
“It seems to me that it would have been the right thing for that band to
pipe up as soon as our train came within sight of the depot,” observed
Dayton. “We pay them for blowing for us, and we want to get all the
music we can out of them. They ought to give us our money’s worth;
doesn’t it strike you that way?”
Captain Walker said it did, adding that he thought there was something
strange about it. Colonel Mack and the anxious president thought and
said the same. Looking out at the car windows as the train moved slowly
into the depot, they could see that there were many people moving about,
but there was not a cadet gray or a union blue overcoat in sight; and
the big building, which ought to have been resounding to the enlivening
strains of martial music, echoed only to the murmur of voices and the
tread of hurrying feet.
“I don’t understand this matter at all,” exclaimed the president, as he
and his two companions sprang from the car and looked around for the
faithful and energetic chairman of the committee of arrangements.
“There’s something wrong,” observed Mack, who had a way of looking
disagreeable things in the face.
“For goodness sake, don’t say that,” replied Captain Walker, whose
countenance had assumed a very serious expression during the last few
minutes.
“Well, then, where is Blake?” demanded Mack. “You never knew him to slip
up like this before, did you? It is true that committees and bands of
music have been behind time before to-day, but somehow——”
Mack did not finish the sentence, but what he didn’t say was much more
expressive than what he _did_ say. With one accord the three boys
hurried toward the waiting-room. The first familiar face they saw as
they entered it was that of one of the “nobby” staff officers of the
Sixty-first—one of the hundred and fifty who had returned a favorable
reply to their invitation. The boys thought it high time he was in
uniform if he intended to help them eat their dinner, but here he was in
citizen’s clothes! And the papers and blank-books he carried in his hand
seemed to indicate that he was attending to business. When he saw Mack
and his companions approaching, he stopped and looked at them in the
greatest astonishment.
“How does this come, colonel?” said he, as he took Mack’s outstretched
hand, and shook it cordially. “You’re left, as sure as the world.”
“Left!” repeated Mack. “I don’t know what you mean?”
“Why, I mean that you won’t eat any class dinner to-night,” answered the
staff-officer, glancing at his watch. “It is set for seven o’clock, and
here it is half-past six already.”
“You mean that it was set for eight o’clock,” the president ventured to
suggest, while a very dim conception of the situation began to creep
into Mack’s mind.
“No, seven,” insisted the officer, “and that’s the reason I couldn’t
attend as I had hoped to do. Your committee didn’t notify me of the
change in the time until it was too late for me to make arrangements.”
An expression of the greatest consternation overspread the faces of
Mack’s two companions. The latter shut his teeth hard, and spoke with a
calmness that surprised himself.
“What kind of a looking crowd was it who notified you of a change in our
programme?” he asked.
“Oh, it was a good-looking committee—sharp, bright fellows; and I think,
on the whole, that they would compare very favorably with the cadets I
see before me,” answered the officer, with a smile. “They got the dinner
to the transfer-depot all right, and made a very pretty appearance as
they marched through the city, led by our favorite cornet band. But how
in the world are you boys going to get to Bordentown? There’s no train
before midnight, and the fastest horse in Hamilton could not take you
over there in time to—Why, colonel, what’s the trouble?” exclaimed the
officer; for Mack had darted away at the top of his speed toward the
telegraph office. “I declare I believe it’s a beat.”
“You may well say that,” replied Captain Walker, as he and the president
ran after Mack. “If the Sixty-first is sent for to-morrow to quell a
riot at the academy you need not be at all surprised.”
“I want to send off a dispatch,” shouted Colonel Mack, as he rushed into
the telegraph office, and stamped up and down the floor, swinging his
fists in the air. “Hurry up. I’ll write it out afterward.”
The boy, who happened to be in charge of the office, no doubt thought
that the intruder had gone crazy all on a sudden; but he sat down to his
desk without making any comments, and told the excited young colonel to
go ahead.
“J. H. Taylor, Bordentown,” shrieked the telegraph, following Mack’s
hurried and rather incoherent dictation. “Stop that dinner; it is a
fraud. Choke off those boys. Kick them out of doors. The whole thing is
an outrageous swindle.”
While Mack was wondering what earthly good it would do him and the rest
of the boys if these instructions were obeyed, he dictated another
dispatch to his friend Don Gordon, which ran as follows:
“That villain Lester Brigham has got the weather-gauge of us. He and his
crowd have stolen our dinner and carried it off to Bordentown with the
intention of eating it themselves.”
By this time Mack had so far recovered from his rage and excitement that
he could write out and pay for these two dispatches, after which he went
down stairs to see what the class thought about it. The members had
broken ranks and were gathered in a body around their captain and
president, who had just brought them the news. If we were to say that
they were amazed and angry, we should not begin to tell how they felt.
As they could not say anything that would do the subject justice, the
most of them kept still; but they clenched their fists and nodded their
heads at one another, and if Lester and his crowd had been within reach
at that moment, it is doubtful if their officers could have restrained
them.
“I would give up my chances for graduating at the end of the term, if I
could have just one minute’s private interview with Lester Brigham,”
said one of the students, who was walking about wringing his hands as if
he were in great bodily distress. “I don’t think his mother would know
him when I got through with him.”
“I wish there was some way for us to get to Bordentown,” exclaimed
another. “Wouldn’t we drive those fellows away from that table and out
of the windows in short order? Great Scott! Just think how many of our
friends have traveled hundreds of miles at our invitation, only to be
disappointed!”
These words drove even the cool-headed ones among the students almost
frantic. There was no loud talking, no riotous demonstration, and a
stranger might have passed close by them without knowing, from their
words and actions, that there was anything the matter with them. The
military discipline to which they had so long been subjected, restrained
them in some measure; and besides, as much as they wanted to fight, they
could see nothing to oppose them. If Lester and his company of adherents
had entered the depot at that moment, it is probable that the sight
would have had a very demoralizing effect upon them. Just then one of
their number, who had been holding an earnest conversation with one of
the railroad men, came hurrying up.
“I say, fellows,” he exclaimed, “if Lester and his party leave
Bordentown at all during the next twelve hours, they will have to take
the three o’clock train, which will bring them in here in time for the
lightning express.”
“Good!” cried all the boys, in a breath. That was all they said, but it
was plain that they understood one another. Their captain, who happened
to overhear these remarks, understood them also, and he at once hurried
away to lay the matter before his superior officer.
“Look here, Mack,” said he, in a suppressed whisper. “There will be the
very mischief to pay if we don’t get out of here before four o’clock.
The boys expect Lester and his party to return from Bordentown at that
hour, and they have made up their minds to give them a good pounding.”
“That would never do—never in the world,” replied Mack, in a tone of
anxiety. “Such a high-handed proceeding on the part of the members of
our class would be an everlasting disgrace to them, as well as to the
school. We’ll nip that little arrangement in the bud. It will make the
boys mad at us at first, but they will thank us for it after they have
had time to cool off a little. I, for one, am not half as angry as I was
a few minutes ago, and, now that I think of it, it was a pretty sharp
trick on Lester’s part, and we have all seen the time when we would have
done the same thing, if we had been bright enough to think of it. I’ll
warrant that Don Gordon is laughing fit to split, and that he feels like
punching his own head because he did not propose something of the kind
when he was running with Tom Fisher and that crowd. But we can’t have a
free fight here in the depot, and we won’t, either. Now, Walker, you
stay here, and don’t allow a single boy out of your sight until we come
back. The president and I are going up to the hotel to talk to the
superintendent about it, and while we are gone, you must be very careful
what you say in the hearing of the boys. Some of them are too highly
exasperated to be reasonable, and if they should find out that they are
not to be allowed the privilege of fighting Lester and his men, they
would slip out into the city and lie in wait for them. If they begin to
act in a way to arouse your suspicions, order the last one of them into
our two cars, and keep them there until we return.”
“Very good, sir,” replied Captain Walker, raising his hand to his cap.
“But between you and me,” he added, in a lower tone, “I really wish our
boys could interview Lester and his party before we go back to the
Academy.”
“It is about the neatest trick I ever heard of,” said Colonel Mack, as
he and the president hurried away to pour their sorrows into the
sympathizing ear of the superintendent, and to tell him of the plot the
first-class boys had entered into to take summary vengeance upon the
despoilers of their feast when they came in on the Bordentown train.
“Those fellows must be as well posted in our plans as we are.”
“Of course they are,” was the reply. “Otherwise they could not have sent
me that telegram which purported to come from Blake, and which assured
me that everything was ‘O. K.’”
“That’s so; where in the world is Blake now?” exclaimed Mack; and
apparently forgetting that Blake was the very boy they had been wishing
for ever since the train came into the depot, he and the president
stopped in their hurried walk and looked all around in search of him.
“Say,” added Mack, a moment later, “I have my own ideas regarding the
manner in which this trick was sprung upon us——”
“So have I,” interrupted the president.
“And I want you to remember what I say,” continued Mack. “When we get to
the bottom of this day’s work, you will hear some things that will make
you open your eyes. What do you see to interest you so much?”
Receiving no reply from his companion, who, having come to a sudden
halt, was shading his eyes with his hand and gazing intently at some
object he saw in the distance, Mack also stopped, and looked in the same
direction. Before him was the river, along whose banks ran Hamilton’s
principal business street. Near the head of it was the hotel toward
which they were hastening, and a short distance farther on stood the
transfer-depot. All the passengers who came in on the main road, and who
were bound for Bordentown or points farther north, were conveyed from
one depot to the other by an omnibus line, while the luggage and freight
were taken over on drays.
Directly in front of the transfer-depot was the bridge that crossed the
river, and beyond it, for three miles at least, the track was almost as
straight as an arrow. The boys could plainly see every rod of it from
where they stood. As Mack looked up he saw, coming into view around the
first bend in the road, a locomotive which seemed to be moving with
terrific speed. Mack didn’t see anything surprising in that, not even
after he had taken a second look, and discovered that the engine was
drawing a couple of flat cars that were heavily loaded with something;
and it did not take him long to tell his companion so.
“I know that a wild-cat train is not an unusual sight,” exclaimed the
latter, “but something tells me that we are interested in the one we see
before us. Just as you spoke, I saw a momentary flash in the engineer’s
cab, and I’ll bet it was the reflection from a breast-buckle.”
“Reflection of what?” demanded Mack.
“Why, light, of course.”
“That’s a good one. Why, man alive, if there was a breast-buckle in the
cab, where is the light for it to reflect? The sun was hidden by those
clouds an hour ago.”
“I don’t care if it was,” said the president, decidedly. “Isn’t the cab
lighted up when the fireman opens the door to replenish the furnace?
There! What do you say to that?”
Mack was so bewildered that he did not know what to say regarding some
of the extraordinary things that happened during the next few seconds.
First, the engineer whistled for the bridge, and then for the station,
but he did not “slow down,” as he would have done under ordinary
circumstances. He kept on at full speed, and this seemed to indicate
that he was in a hurry. As the train drew nearer, the dense mass on the
forward flat began to assume forms and shapes, and then Mack saw that it
was composed of many different bodies, and that they were all in motion.
Very soon these different bodies began to assume color as well as form,
some showing blue and the others gray. Before Mack could give utterance
to the words of astonishment that rose to his lips, he heard the warning
notes of a bugle, such as the leader of a band gives when he desires to
call the attention of his men, and an instant afterward the cheering
strains of a triumphal march came floating across the river. If ever a
band tried to talk, this one did. Its music gave the listening boys a
very fair idea of the situation, and, as they afterwards declared, there
was a whole column of good news in every note that came from its
instruments.
Mack and his companion looked wonderingly at each other for a moment,
and then they looked at the train again. Two objects, which bore some
resemblance to huge umbrellas, had been raised from the middle of the
crowd on the forward flat, and were now slowly unrolling themselves. The
first that was given to the breeze was the Star Spangled Banner, and the
one that floated alongside of it was the white silk flag that bore the
monogram of the Bridgeport Military Academy.
“What do you say now?” repeated the president, as soon as he could
speak. “Blake and the other two members of the committee have stolen a
march on Lester as sure as the world.”
Mack thought so too, but he had never dreamed of such good luck, and he
wanted somebody to confirm him in his opinion.
“Do you really believe that they have brought our dinner back to us?” he
asked.
“I know it,” was the emphatic response.
“And can we serve it up to our guests, and have everything go off just
as we planned it?” continued Mack.
“Of course—that’s the very idea,” said the president, encouragingly.
“But how in the name of all that’s wonderful could Blake, with only two
men at his back, get the better of Lester and Enoch and such a crowd as
they had with them?” inquired Mack, who, although he firmly believed
that Blake had done that very thing, could not, for the life of him,
imagine _how_ he had done it. “There must have been at least thirty or
forty fellows in Lester’s party, and I shouldn’t think they would permit
themselves to be balked at the very last minute. Having got safely off
with the dinner, why didn’t they hold fast to it?”
“I don’t know anything about that,” answered the president. “But that is
our dinner on the rear flat, covered up with a tarpaulin, and I am
positive of it. Now, what shall we do?”
“Let’s first make sure that we are right in our suppositions, and then
we will go to work and carry out our programme,” replied Mack. “It
really looks to me as though things were working in our favor, in spite
of all Lester’s efforts to prevent it; but if we should be disappointed
after all—”
The president hastened to assure his companion that they were not going
to be disappointed, and, in order to satisfy himself on that point at
the earliest possible moment, he set out for the depot at the top of his
speed, Mack following close at his heels. The train had by this time
crossed the bridge, and as it disappeared through one of the huge
doorways, a shout arose from the inside of the building—a shout so loud
that it effectually drowned the music of the band. The boys were greatly
astonished at this, but they were so impatient to find some one who
could explain everything to them, that they did not stop to ask each
other any questions. They kept on with increased speed, and when they
dashed into the depot, they found that the noisy greeting they had heard
came from a company of railroad men, assisted by a crowd of professional
hangers-on—men and boys who always run to the station whenever they hear
the whistle of an approaching train.
[Illustration: THE RACE FOR THE CLASS DINNER.]
The most of these men and boys had seen Lester and his company when they
marched through the city that morning, led by the band, and, at the
time, they thought that everything was just as it should be—that Lester
and the rest were first-class boys, as they pretended to be, and that
they had a right to the good things which Mr. Taylor had so carefully
prepared, and which were following behind them, loaded on drays; and it
was not until the afternoon train came in, bringing Captain Walker and
his men, that the citizens of Hamilton learned how neatly the members of
the graduating class had been outwitted. Some of them laughed, and said
that it served the young upstarts just right (the boys in the first
class _did_ throw on a good deal of style, as a general thing), while
others could not have been more exasperated if they had been personally
interested in the matter. They knew, too, of the steps that Blake had
taken to turn the tables on those who had made off with the dinner (we
shall tell all about it presently), and when the triumphant strains of
the band told them that the quick-witted fellow had been successful in
his endeavors, they could not resist the impulse to cheer him. Blake was
the first boy who sprang out of the engineer’s cab to greet Mack and his
companion.
“Oh, fellows,” he exclaimed, as he extended a hand to each of them.
“Would you believe——”
“We know all about it, and are ready to believe almost anything,”
interrupted Mack. “But how did you get the dinner back? That’s what we
should like to have you explain.”
“Can’t stop to do it now—story’s too long,” answered Blake, hurriedly,
at the same time pulling out his watch. “But this much I can say to you:
We’ve not a single instant to lose, but if we work fast and don’t get in
one another’s way, we can make the dinner go off as if nothing bad
happened.”
“Blake, you deserve a commission,” exclaimed the president.
“That’s what I think,” was the modest reply. “By the way, where is the
company?”
“Down to the other depot.”
“All mad, I suppose?”
“That’s not the word to use; they are more than mad. I hope you have not
brought Lester or any of his crowd back with you.”
“Not by a long shot,” answered Blake, with a laugh. “We did not want to
see them whipped. Now, you two get an omnibus, put the band into it and
go down and march up the company. Leave the rest to me. The hall will be
ready by the time you get there.”
Blake had given abundant proof that he was equal to any emergency, and
consequently Mack and his companion did not linger to offer advice or
assistance. They found an omnibus and an express wagon, and as soon as
the band had been crowded into them, the vehicles were driven at full
speed toward the lower depot.