AN ALARM AND A STAMPEDE.
“Hallo!” exclaimed Enoch. “Where are you fellows going?”
“Out to the Big Tree to get dinner and to ask about the fishing,”
replied Wheeler.
“Then you had better hurry up and get out of town as soon as you can,”
observed Jones. “The orderly is looking for you, Mr. Brigham.”
“What orderly?” demanded Lester, who seemed very much surprised to hear
it.
“Colonel’s orderly, of course.”
“What does he want of me?”
“He wants to tell you that the superintendent desires your immediate
presence at the academy,” said Enoch, who played his part well, because
he began to understand Lester’s trick. “You have been doing something,
Brigham, and your day’s sport is up a hollow stump.”
“Did anybody ever hear of such luck?” cried Lester, with a great show of
disappointment and anger. “Boys, I can’t go.”
“What did I tell you?” exclaimed the proprietor of the livery stable,
who thought he had been imposed upon again. “I knew you didn’t want that
rig when you asked for it.”
“Oh, yes, we do, Mr. Watkins,” answered Wheeler, hastily. “The rest of
us will go, and perhaps while we are driving through the village we can
find some good fellow to take Lester’s place. We’re sorry for you,
Brigham, and hope you haven’t been doing anything _very_ bad. If you say
so, we’ll take you up to the academy and wait for you at the gate. You
may be able to explain matters so that you can get out again.”
“You had better go on and hunt up some other fellow,” said Enoch. “I
don’t think you will see Brigham again to-day.”
Something that looked like a shade of anxiety settled on Lester’s face,
and without saying another word he turned and hurried away, leaving his
two friends to do the rest of the talking. Ross acted as though he
didn’t know whether it was best to go or not. Enoch and Jones were
surprised to see him in the wagon, and wondered if they hadn’t better
give him a hint to get out; but after a little reflection, they wisely
concluded that Ross would not have been there if Lester had not wanted
to get rid of him for some reason of his own, and so they said nothing
to him. They saw Wheeler drive out of the stable, and then walked slowly
down the street in search of Lester, whom they found waiting for them
around the nearest corner.
“How did you like my plan?” was Lester’s first question.
“It worked splendidly—your plans always do,” replied Enoch. “But did you
want Ross to go too?”
“I did,” answered Lester, emphatically. “To tell you the honest truth, I
didn’t want to trust him.”
“I am sorry to hear that,” observed Jones, “for he shelled out money
with a lavish hand when we asked him for it. If it hadn’t been for him,
some of us would have been obliged to stay behind, for we could not have
purchased tickets.”
“Well, those who borrowed money from him can return it, can’t they?”
demanded Lester.
“Of course they can, and they will; but since Ross showed himself to be
so open-hearted, I really wish he could have seen his share of the fun.
However, if you think he couldn’t be trusted, that settles the matter.”
“He’ll be glad of it when the time for settlement comes,” Enoch
remarked. “We’ll stand by him then, and nobody will know that he was one
of us.”
As the hands of the clock in the depot began moving slowly around toward
one o’clock, a person standing on the platform could not have failed to
notice the large number of boys in gray overcoats who crossed the
railroad track and disappeared behind the long line of freight cars that
stood opposite. When the lightning express came in, they boarded it
without the least confusion or noise, and not one of the numerous
hangers-on who were walking about the platform seemed to be the wiser
for it. When Enoch came to go through the train after it had started on
again, he found there was not a single face missing except that of
Wallace Ross. The latter heard the express whistle for the station, and
a glance at his watch showed him that there was a big mistake somewhere.
The train was on time; but he was a mile or more outside the village
limits, and he knew that he could not return in season to catch it, even
if he could have induced his companions to make the attempt. He was very
much disappointed. He was one of the coolest and most determined boys in
Enoch’s party, and he had made up his mind to have a good time, and to
submit without a murmur to any punishment the court-martial might see
fit to visit upon him; but he never once suspected that he was the
victim of misplaced confidence.
During the ride to the city the conspirators were very quiet. They could
not shout and sing, as did the first-class boys, who came over the road
a few hours later. The bravest of them were excited and nervous, and the
timid ones heartily wished themselves back in Bridgeport; but there was
not a student among them who dared say so for fear of being denounced as
a coward. When the train came to a stand-still in the depot, even Enoch
began to show a little anxiety. There were more people there than they
had expected to see, and the Silver Cornet Band, which was out in full
force, was sending forth the strains of greeting that ought to have been
reserved for a different occasion, the tall form of the drum-major
standing in front, beating time with his gold-headed staff, his bearskin
cap towering high above the heads of all the rest of the crowd.
“Endicott has done his work well, and we are in for it as sure as we are
living, boys,” said Enoch, to a few of his right-hand men who were
clustered about him. “I see he has secured possession of the colors, and
they will go far toward allaying suspicion. Now, Jones, you draw the
boys up in line, and I will come back and take command as soon as I can
say a word to Endicott. I want to know just what he has done so that I
won’t make any mistakes.”
The conspirators, having been thoroughly instructed, fell in without
waiting for the word of command, Lester Brigham proudly taking up his
position in the second lieutenant’s place in the line of file-closers.
There were a good many veterans in the city, and Lester felt elated to
think that when they saw him marching there they would take him for an
officer.
When Enoch stepped off the train, Endicott and his three companions, who
had done so much in so short a time to make the undertaking successful,
came forward and saluted him with as much respect as they would have
showed him if he had been a real commander instead of a bogus one.
“Captain,” said Endicott, “I have the honor to report that I have
secured the colors in accordance with my instructions. And,” he added,
in a lower tone, “I claim the privilege of carrying one of them, and
Miller wants to carry the other.”
“Very good, sir,” replied Enoch, returning the salute. Then he, too,
lowered his voice, as he asked, with some misgivings: “Where are Blake
and his committee? Is everything all right?”
“Blake and the two fellows who came with him are probably out at Grove
farm, wandering about in the woods and trying to find their way back to
the city,” was the reassuring reply. “Sam has brought back the report
that that was where he left them. Everything is all right. Keep up a
bold front and go ahead as though you were really captain, of the first
class, and no one will suspect anything until Colonel Mack and the rest
come in on the mail. You will find a special car over at the
transfer-depot.”
“Endicott, you are the best fellow for work of this sort I ever saw!”
said Enoch, admiringly.
“I know it,” was the modest reply. “But I don’t believe in doing things
by halves. After all, it was no trouble for me to get that car at
reduced rates, for the men on the other road know who I am. Now you had
better fall in and go ahead. It is almost train time.”
After holding a short consultation with the leader of the band, Enoch
went back to take command of the company, at whose head stood the two
color-bearers; one holding aloft the Stars and Stripes, and the other
carrying the white, gold-fringed flag of the academy. At the command,
“Fours, right—march!” they wheeled into column, and moved off with as
much steadiness and precision as a company of veterans. When they
arrived at the transfer-depot they halted long enough to break ranks,
after which they boarded the car that Endicott had been thoughtful
enough to provide for them. It was the last one on the train. It was to
be dropped at Bordentown, and picked up again by the train that came
through at four in the morning. When the boys were all in their seats,
and the band had come in, Enoch and Endicott went out to see that the
dinner was put into the express car. It was so very abundant, and the
number of boys who went into the rear car was so small, that it is a
wonder that Mr. Taylor did not suspect something. But he was kept busy
superintending the removal of the eatables, and, besides, he probably
thought that the students understood their own business better than he
did; and so long as he was well paid for his trouble, he did not think
it worth while to bother his head about matters that were supposed to be
under the charge of somebody else.
When the train moved out of the depot, the conspirators drew a long
breath of relief and began to act more like themselves. Looking upon
their victory over the first-class boys as an assured thing, they broke
out into cheers for Lester Brigham, whom they still believed to be the
originator of the enterprise; for Enoch Williams, who had managed
everything so adroitly; and for Endicott and his three companions, who
had spirited Blake and the rest of the committee of arrangements away
into the country, so that they could have a clear field for their
operations. The band helped the matter along by giving furious and
discordant blasts upon their instruments, and the hubbub that arose in
that car must have led the people living along the road to believe that
there was a menagerie aboard.
“They’re shouting before they are out of the woods,” said the
long-headed Enoch. “They seem to forget that there is such a thing as a
telegraph in this part of the United States. Jones, when we reach the
hall, you had better station a sentry at the foot of the stairs, with
orders to allow no outsider to go by him. In that way we shall be able
to intercept any little dispatches that the first-class boys may send to
Mr. Taylor.”
“But won’t he be mad when he finds out how nicely he has been fooled?”
exclaimed Lester, as if the thought had just occurred to him.
“I believe you,” assented Enoch. “He is a big man, and could make it
very uncomfortable for us if he should set about it. That’s the reason I
want that sentry placed in the hall. We must eat the dinner, have our
speeches, toasts and songs, and get back to Hamilton before he hears any
bad news. If we don’t, we shall find ourselves in hot water.”
Lester and Jones had never thought of these things before, but now they
began to see that the rightful owners of the dinner were not the only
ones they had to fear. There were Mr. Taylor and his assistants, and
there were the members of the band—twenty big, stout Germans, who would
be likely to express their opinion of the afternoon’s proceedings in a
way that would be by no means agreeable. It was plain that the
conspirators had placed themselves in a very unenviable situation, and
that nothing but the exercise of the greatest caution could bring them
safely out of it.
In due time the train reached Bordentown, and when it stopped in front
of the depot, Enoch was greatly disgusted and not a little alarmed to
discover that the only fire company of which the place could boast, had
turned out to escort the visitors to the hotel in which the banquet was
to be held. The little village had never before been honored by a class
dinner, and the people intended to treat the boys so well that they
would use their influence to induce the next graduating class to hold
their dinner there also. Enoch saw it all, but before he could express
his sentiments regarding the action of the fire company, or ask advice
of any of his counselors, the train came to a stand-still, and the
foreman, trumpet in hand, entered the car.
“Captain?” said he, looking around inquiringly; whereupon Lester and
Jones pointed to Enoch.
“Captain, I am glad to meet you,” continued the foreman, “and in behalf
of Deluge Number One, I have the honor to tender you the escort of the
company through the principal streets of the village to the hotel.”
All the conspirators heard the foreman’s words, and their faces betrayed
the utmost consternation. Enoch was the only one among them who kept his
wits about him.
“Thank you, sir,” said he, returning the fireman’s salute. “You are very
kind, and I am proud to accept your offer of escort. What do you want me
to do?”
“You will please form on the right of my company, which is drawn up in
line on the other side of the depot. Let your band march in the centre.
We have nothing better than a drum corps, but we can give you a noisy,
if not a musical, welcome.”
The foreman continued to talk in this way while the car was being
side-tracked; and he looked so jolly and good-natured, and seemed so
anxious to do something to please the boys, that Jones’s heart smote
him.
“I declare, it is too had to fool a man like that,” said he, when he had
a chance to say a word to Enoch in private. “I’ll bet he’s a splendid
fellow.”
“I know he is,” was Enoch’s reply. “But how are we going to keep from
fooling him? We didn’t ask him to come out here, and we can’t very well
request him to withdraw his company and leave us alone. It wouldn’t be
safe for us to tell him how the thing stands, for he’s a stranger, and
we don’t know how far to trust him. He’s here, and we’ve got to do as he
says.”
And they did, although there were many among them who wished that the
foreman had been in Guinea or some other place before he came out to
offer them the escort of his company. He did it out of the goodness of
his heart, of course, but all the same his unsolicited attentions were a
nuisance as well as a source of uneasiness and alarm to the
conspirators, who had hoped to go and come without attracting anybody’s
notice.
When their car had been pushed upon the sidetrack, and the train had cut
loose from it and gone on, the conspirators disembarked at the word of
command, and marching with soldier-like step and well-aligned ranks,
moved down the street to take the position assigned them. Then the
parade began. It didn’t amount to much, of course, but the village
people and the farmers and their families who had come miles in their
big lumber wagons on purpose to witness it, evidently thought it
something grand, for they thronged the streets on both sides and cheered
the students loudly at every turn. After marching through the principal
thoroughfares—and there were so few of them that it did not take them
long to do that—the column was halted in front of the hotel, the band
fell out and the firemen formed open ranks, facing inward. When the
students, in obedience to Enoch’s command, executed the movement “fours
right” and then “right by twos,” and passed through their lines, the
firemen saluted them by uncovering their heads, the boys replying in the
same way. There was scarcely one among them who did not despise himself
for receiving and returning honors which he was not entitled to receive
or return, but there was no help for it.
The dining-room of the hotel had been engaged for the evening, and when
the students had marched into it and broken ranks, Enoch took a hasty
glance about him and then called his trusty counselors, Jones, Lester
and Endicott, together for a consultation. The landlord had made a
desperate attempt to decorate the room for the occasion, and had
succeeded remarkably well, considering the very short notice he had
received. The walls were covered with flags and wreaths of evergreen,
and the long tables, which sparkled with glass and silverware, were
adorned with a profusion of flowers.
“Now, here’s another pretty mess,” said Enoch to his counselors. “I
don’t mind fooling such fellows as the first-class boys, who hold that
we have no rights that they are bound to respect, but when it comes to
taking in a jolly lot like these firemen, I weaken. They have done the
very best they could for us, and it would be nothing more than a civil
thing on our part to ask them to help us eat the dinner.”
“I don’t see how we can get around it,” observed Endicott, while the
others shook their heads and looked very solemn. Their actions and the
expression of their faces seemed to say that it was a bad business
altogether, and they wished they were well out of it.
“Neither do I,” said Enoch. “They will accept, of course, but none of
our crowd will ever dare show their faces in Bordentown again.”
“Why couldn’t they have kept away and left us alone?” exclaimed Lester,
pettishly.
“They could, but they didn’t; they’re here, and we’ve got to ask them to
spend the evening with us. Let’s do it at once and be done with it.”
So saying, Enoch, accompanied by his three right-hand men, walked up to
the foreman, and Endicott, who was a smooth-tongued fellow, formally
invited him and his company to remain at the hotel as guests of the
Bridgeport boys.
“We can promise you one of Mr. Taylor’s best dinners, but not much of an
entertainment—not near as elaborate as it was intended to be,” said
Endicott. “The programme was changed at the very last minute, and this
dinner will not be as grand as class dinners usually are. We have
brought the music with us, and perhaps it is not too late to get up an
impromptu dance this evening, if you——”
Endicott suddenly paused, for the scowl he saw on Enoch’s face was dark
and threatening. It told him in plain language that he was going
altogether too far. The foreman did not see it, however, and he hastened
to assure the boys that nothing would afford him greater pleasure; and
as for the dance—why, that could be easily arranged. Country girls were
always ready for such things, he said, and as they did not have as much
fixing and fussing to go through with as city belles did, he and his men
would undertake to fill the hall with them by eight o’clock that
evening.
“Now you’ve done it,” exclaimed Enoch, as the foreman hurried away to
tell his men about the hop that was to come off after the dinner had
been disposed of. “Endicott, of all the blunderheads I ever saw, you are
the beat.”
“Why, what’s the matter?” demanded the latter, who couldn’t see that he
had done anything out of the way. “We can’t get any deeper into the mud
than we are now, and we might as well have all the fun we can to-night,
for it will be a long time before we shall have another chance.
To-morrow we shall be called upon to settle with the fiddler.”
“You’ve got us into a pretty pickle all the same,” retorted Enoch. “It
is bad enough to fool a lot of men; but when it comes to sailing under
false colors before a party of girls—Endicott, you ought to have had
better sense. If anything leaks out, those big, strapping firemen will
make mince-meat of us.”
“Good gracious!” exclaimed Lester and Jones, in a breath; and even
Endicott looked rather sober.
“But we mustn’t let anything leak out,” said he. “The boys have kept
still tongues in their heads so far, and why should they begin to blab
now, when we are in the very midst of danger?”
“There’s just this much about it,” said Enoch, without replying to
Endicott’s question. “I shall hold myself in readiness to dig out at the
very first note of warning, and my advice to you and the rest of the
fellows is to do the same. The punishment the first-class boys will
visit upon us, if they get the chance, won’t be a patching to the
pounding we shall get from these Yahoos if they discover that they and
their girls have been duped. I didn’t feel any great uneasiness before,
but I tell you I shall be on the alert now.”
There were some very badly frightened boys among the conspirators when
Endicott’s indiscretion became known, and Enoch thought they looked more
like a lot of hunted criminals than anything else to which he could
compare them. The majority of them could not bear to remain inactive in
the dining-room, so they went out on the street, where they could have a
fair chance to take to their heels should occasion seem to require it;
but some of the sharpest of them, such fellows as Lester, Enoch and
Jones, and their particular friends Barry, Dale and Morris, thought that
headquarters, that is the dining-room, was the safest place for them.
They knew that if any of the first-class boys sent a telegram to Mr.
Taylor it would be brought straight to the hotel, and they wanted to
make sure that he didn’t get it. Colonel Mack, as we know, did send a
dispatch to Mr. Taylor, but it did not in any way interfere with the
plans of the conspirators, because it came too late. The interruption to
their little programme came from a different source altogether.
It happened about two hours after they reached Bordentown. The most of
the students were strolling about the village to see what they could
find that was worth looking at; the firemen had scattered in all
directions to hunt up girls for the hop; and Enoch and the boys whose
names we have mentioned above were walking up and down the dining-room,
watching Mr. Taylor and his assistants, who were busily engaged in
placing a tempting array of viands upon the tables, when suddenly the
shrill scream of a locomotive whistle—a triumphant scream that had a
volume of meaning in it—rent the air. An instant later the door was
dashed violently open, and a pale and excited student, whose intense
alarm seemed to have robbed him of all his senses, rushed in, shouting
at the top of his voice:
“Oh, boys, there’s the very mischief to pay! Here come Blake and a whole
crowd of fellows! Get out o’ this quick. They are talking with some of
the firemen.”
This startling announcement was enough to frighten anybody. It even took
away the last particle of Enoch’s courage. He stood as motionless as if
he had grown fast to the floor, while Mr. Taylor and his assistants
paused with their hands full of dishes and looked at one another. Enoch
was the first to recover himself and to think of escape. The burly form
of the caterer was interposed between himself and the door, and as the
boy did not dare attempt to pass him, he turned and made a dash for the
nearest window, his example being followed by all his companions. This
retrograde movement aroused Mr. Taylor, and at the same time opened his
eyes to the fact that he had been very neatly taken in. Slamming down
the dishes he held in his hands, he called out, in angry tones:
“Stop those boys! Catch the captain; he is at the bottom of it all.”
Mr. Taylor started forward to obey his own order; but he was slow as
well as heavy, while Enoch was like a cat in his movements. As quick as
a flash he threw up the window, and dropping lightly to the ground, made
off at an astonishing rate of speed. He was out of sight in an instant.