THE RIVERPARK REBELLION
The Sunshine Library for Young People
This admirable line of books for young people contains some of the
choicest stories for children ever written. The volumes are well
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AUNT HANNAH AND SETH. By James Otis.
BLIND BROTHER. By Homer Greene.
CAPTAIN’S DOG. By Louis Énault.
CAT AND THE CANDLE. By Mary F. Leonard.
CAXTON CLUB. By Amos R. Wells.
CHILD AND THE TREE. By Bessie K. Ulrich.
CHRISTMAS AT DEACON HACKETT’S. By James Otis.
CHRISTMAS TREE SCHOLAR. By Francis Bent Dillingham.
DADDY DARWIN’S DOVECOT. By Mrs. J. H. Ewing.
DAISIES AND DIGGLESES. By Evelyn Raymond.
DAYS BEFORE HISTORY. By H. R. Hall.
DEAR LITTLE MARCHIONESS. The Story of a Child’s Faith and Love.
DICK IN THE DESERT. By James Otis.
DIVIDED SKATES. By Evelyn Raymond.
GOLDEN KEY. By George MacDonald.
GOLD THREAD. By Norman MacLeod.
HALF A DOZEN THINKING CAPS. By Mary F. Leonard.
HOW THE TWINS CAPTURED A HESSIAN. By James Otis.
HOW TOMMY SAVED THE BARN. By James Otis.
INGLESIDE. By Barbara Yechton.
J. COLE. By Emma Gellibrand.
JESSICA’S FIRST PRAYER. By Hesba Stretton.
KING OF THE GOLDEN RIVER. By John Ruskin.
LADDIE. By Evelyn Whitaker.
LITTLE PETER. By Lucas Malet.
LITTLE SUNSHINE’S HOLIDAY. By Miss Mulock.
MASTER SUNSHINE. By Mrs. C. F. Fraser.
MISS DE PEYSTER’S BOY. By Etheldred B. Barry.
MISS TOOTSEY’S MISSION. By Evelyn Whitaker.
MOLLY. By Barbara Yechton.
MUSICAL JOURNEY OF DOROTHY AND DELIA. By Bradley Gilman.
OUR UNCLE THE MAJOR. By James Otis.
PAIR OF THEM. By Evelyn Raymond.
PLAYGROUND TONI. By Anna Chapin Ray.
PLAY LADY. By Ella Farman Pratt.
PRINCE PRIGIO. By Andrew Lang.
SHORT CRUISE. By James Otis.
SMOKY DAYS. By Edward W. Thomson.
SNAP DRAGONS. By Mrs. J. H. Ewing.
STEPHEN. A Story of the Little Crusaders. By Eva A. Madden.
STRAWBERRY HILL. By Mrs. C. F. Fraser.
SUNBEAMS AND MOONBEAMS. By Louise R. Baker.
TALE OF THE TOW PATH. By Homer Greene.
THE TRUTH ABOUT SANTA CLAUS. By Charlotte M. Vaile.
TWO AND ONE. By Charlotte M. Vaile.
RIVERPARK REBELLION. By Homer Greene.
WHISPERING TONGUES. By Homer Greene.
WONDER SHIP. By Sophie Swett.
WRECK OF THE CIRCUS. By James Otis.
YOUNG BOSS. By Edward W. Thomson.
THOMAS Y. CROWELL & CO., Publishers,
426-428 West Broadway, New York
[Illustration: “ANYTHING ELSE I CAN GIT FOR YE, YOUNG GENTLEMEN?”]
THE
RIVERPARK REBELLION
BY
HOMER GREENE
AUTHOR OF “THE BLIND BROTHER,” “BURNHAM
BREAKER,” ETC.
[Illustration]
NEW YORK
THOMAS Y. CROWELL & CO.
PUBLISHERS
_Copyright, 1889_,
BY PERRY MASON & CO.
_Copyright, 1892_,
BY T. Y. CROWELL & CO.
This Volume is Reverently Inscribed to the Memory
OF
COLONEL OTIS BISBEE,
_Who, in his lifetime, was Principal of the Riverview Military
Academy at Poughkeepsie, N. Y., and under whose
guidance and instruction, long ago, two
happy years were spent_
BY THE AUTHOR.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER PAGE
I. A LOSS OF TEMPER 7
II. CHANGING THE RECORD 28
III. AN IMPERTINENT PETITION 49
IV. THE ORDER OF THE BLACK STAR 70
V. A HAPLESS HOLIDAY 89
VI. QUARTERED ON A HAYMOW 109
VII. THE RETURN OF THE FUGITIVES 128
VIII. A GENERAL AMNESTY 148
THE RIVERPARK REBELLION.
CHAPTER I.
A LOSS OF TEMPER.
“Battalion, right forward, fours right, march! Guide left!”
The command was sharp, distinct, soldierly. The first set of fours
moved straight to the front with unhesitating firmness and uniformity
of step; the orderly sergeant took his place to the left of the set
with ease and rapidity. The remainder of the battalion broke into
fours, wheeling to the right with promptness and precision, and in the
next moment the entire column was on the march.
The Riverpark Academy corps of cadets were the best-drilled troops
outside of West Point. The uniform was dark blue; the belts, gloves,
and shoulder-belts were white, and the breastplates were of polished
brass. The barrels of the cadets’ muskets glittered in the April
sunlight, as they marched and counter-marched, wheeled to the right and
left, marked time, and halted.
There was a short interval of rest. The boys in the ranks talked
freely, laughed, shouted at one another, leaning out from the line to
do so, making strenuous efforts, nevertheless, to keep one foot in
place, according to the rule.
Major Drumlist, the drill-master, wiped the perspiration from his face,
exchanged a few words with the members of his staff, and then called
the troops to attention.
He divided the battalion into four platoons, and placed each platoon
in charge of an officer, with directions to instruct the men more
thoroughly in the art of wheeling. Upton’s infantry tactics, which had
recently been adopted in the United States Army, had but lately come
into use at Riverpark; and as the excellence of the new system depended
largely on the perfection attained in the wheelings, it seemed
necessary to give much time and attention to that particular branch.
The third platoon, in the absence of Lieutenant Smeath, of Company
B, was placed in charge of Adjutant Brightly, who marched his men
to the southerly part of the parade-ground, and began a systematic
drill, as directed. The adjutant was a lad of sixteen years. He
was well-proportioned, stood erect, and looked the typical soldier
throughout. He was well versed in the tactics and an excellent
drill-master, but it was apparent that to-day he had little heart in
his task. The men in the ranks noticed his indifference, and took
advantage of it. The major came down to them in his round of inspection.
“Lieutenant Brightly,” he said, “you are too easy with your men to-day.
Give your commands as though you meant they should be obeyed, and see
that strict discipline is maintained in the ranks.”
This admonition roused the lad’s spirit,--not so much a spirit of
emulation as of impatience at reproof. As the major passed on to the
next platoon, Brightly became more strict; but his severity was now
apparently without effect. The loose discipline of the first ten
minutes had so demoralized the men that they were awkward and slow, and
it seemed impossible to keep them in good alignment while they were in
motion. Now the centre would bow out and then in; now the pivot would
turn too rapidly, or the flank break away and come crowding up with
broken step. Nothing went well. The adjutant became heated, annoyed,
impatient, and finally quite lost his temper.
There was one man near the centre of the line who particularly vexed
him. He was constantly either too far to the front or to the rear, or
breaking touch toward the guiding flank. Brightly had spoken severely
to him several times. At last he said,--
“Belcher, if you don’t do better, I shall send you to the awkward
squad. You are a disgrace to your company.”
The boy looked out angrily from the ranks, and made as if to reply.
“Stop!” exclaimed the officer. “Not a word! There’s no possible excuse
for you. You have eyes; you can see. You have arms; you can keep touch.
Now pay attention to your duties.”
Again the platoon was wheeled, and again Belcher pushed out ahead of
the line, and broke it hopelessly in the centre. Brightly, who was at
the pivot, watching the alignment, was exasperated beyond endurance. He
passed swiftly down the front, and struck the flat of his sword against
Belcher’s breastplate with force enough to make it clatter.
“Keep back!” he shouted; “keep back! An idiot would know enough to keep
the line!”
The platoon was no sooner halted than Belcher stepped one pace to the
front, and brought his hand up against his musket at the shoulder with
a force that made it rattle, thus signifying his desire to speak.
“Step back into the ranks, sir!” ordered Brightly. “Take your place,
I say!” as the lad hesitated. “I’ll do what talking’s to be done, and
you’ll obey orders!”
Belcher stepped back, muttering angrily, his face pale with passion and
his eyes flashing fiercely.
Up by the color-staff the bugle sounded the recall. The officers
marched their platoons to common ground, wheeled them into line, and
reported to the major. The battalion was then broken into companies,
and these were marched to company grounds and dismissed by the first
sergeants.
Lieutenant Brightly crossed the parade-ground leisurely, entered the
academy building, mounted three flights of stairs, and passed to his
room in the southwest angle. He threw his cap, gloves, and sword on the
bed, drew a chair to the window, seated himself, and looked listlessly
out.
The beautiful landscape, with the Hudson River in the distance, had
little attraction for him. Indeed, nothing interested him that he
could see either on land or water. It was evident that his mind was
preoccupied, and the look of discontent and discouragement on his face
showed that his thoughts were not pleasant ones.
There was a quick step in the hall, and presently Harple came into
the room. Harple was Brightly’s room-mate. He and Brightly had roomed
together for nearly two years, and aside from little wordy encounters
carried on in jest rather than in earnest, they had never had a
quarrel. Harple was captain of Company B. He was a good soldier, a good
student, a good fellow, and as fond of Brightly as if they had been
brothers.
“Come on, Bright!” he exclaimed, as he entered. “Roberts and I are
going to get a permit for a walk, and we’re going down to the pine
grove. Come along with us; it’s a charming day, and we’ll have a good
time.”
“Oh, I don’t care about going out this afternoon, Charley; I’m too
indolent. Besides, I have some letters to write;” and Brightly threw
his arms up and locked his fingers behind his head with a yawn.
“I’ll tell you what it is,” responded Harple, earnestly, “you’ll get
indolent and careless and everything else if you keep on in this way.
You haven’t been out of the grounds for a week; you haven’t studied
a lesson with vim for a fortnight; you haven’t cared for three months
whether school kept or not. I tell you, Bright, you’ve got to brace up.
If you keep this thing going much longer, you’ll wake up some day and
find yourself--”
The speaker paused for an appropriate word; then snapping his thumb and
forefinger high in the air in such a way as to indicate something being
sent whirling into space, he continued, “eliminated. Now you know what
that means.”
Brightly looked up, evidently annoyed.
“I haven’t asked you for any advice, have I, Charley?” he said.
“No, but I propose to give you some, all the same,” responded Harple,
throwing his red-silk officer’s sash across the foot of his bed, and
seating himself astride the only other chair in the room. “I’ve had
this thing on my mind for some time,” he continued; “and to-day,
when I saw you make such a fool of yourself with Belcher--pardon the
expression--I concluded to let out on you.
“I can’t conceive what you’re thinking of, Bright! For a year and a
half you were _the_ A No. 1 fellow in this school; but for four months,
without any reasonable cause, you’ve stood still in your tracks. You’ve
kept up with your classes because you couldn’t help it; but you’ve
sat and moped and growled till you’re fossilized and moulded, and the
moss is growing on you. To-day you woke up long enough to get into an
undignified squabble with a private in the ranks, and now you’re going
to drop off to sleep again. Brace up, Bright! For goodness’ sake, brace
up, and don’t let yourself go to the dogs this way!”
Brightly looked a little surprised at first, then slightly indignant,
and then, with a forced air of weariness, he replied,--
“Don’t worry about me, Charley. I feel fully competent to take care of
myself.” After a moment’s pause, he continued with more vigor: “But I
will be obeyed in the ranks. Belcher was obstinate and ugly. I lost all
patience with him, and I went further than I ought; I admit that, but
the circumstances were a sufficient excuse.”
“No, they were not. They were aggravating; so much the more reason why
you should hold your temper. You remember Colonel Silsbee warned us,
when we were commissioned, to exercise patience as well as firmness,
and to--”
“Oh, don’t quote Colonel Silsbee to me! If he doesn’t want me to
reprove his blockheads he’s not obliged to keep me in commission. He
might as well have left me in the ranks in the first place, so far as
that is concerned.”
Harple drew his chair a trifle nearer.
“Bright, look here! I know what the trouble is; it’s all about that
matter of the appointments. You ought to have been captain of Company
A,--I admit that freely; you deserved it on every account; but what’s
the use in giving up to disappointment? You have a good thing as it
is. There isn’t a more showy, responsible, soldierly position in the
battalion than that of adjutant. And then there are only two of us who
out-rank you, Brede and I; and as for me, you know I’d lay down my
sword and shoulder-straps and go back into the ranks to-morrow if it
could help you, or bring you to yourself again.”
“Oh, yes, I know that. I don’t care so much about your ranking me,
Charley; that’s all right. You’re fitted to fill any position you get,
and you deserve the best. It simply occurs to me that after a fellow
has been here two years, and has stood at the head of the school in
study-marks, and has behaved himself reasonably well, he shouldn’t be
insulted by having such an egotistical fool as Brede is placed over him
in rank.”
“Well, Brede can’t really help being stuck up and silly; it’s in him.
But he makes a good officer in many respects; he doesn’t get easily
embarrassed, has plenty of self-esteem--”
“Oh, yes, lots of it; struts around in his shoulder-straps as though
he owned the school; is constantly showing his infinite superiority
over everybody in general and me in particular. It’s a good thing I’m
on the staff and not under his immediate command. I wouldn’t stand his
insolence for an hour. I detest the fellow,--absolutely detest him!”
“Well, I’ll admit that he’s not a lovable character; but Colonel
Silsbee had some good reason for making him the ranking cadet-officer,
you may be sure, and it’s our duty as soldiers to accept the situation
and make the best of it.”
“Good reason, did you say? Good reason! Harple, I’ll tell you why
Brede is captain and I’m only lieutenant; it’s because his father is a
general in the army and worth a hundred thousand dollars, and my mother
has to stint herself in order to pay for my schooling. Now, that’s what
hurts me; it’s the rank injustice of it!”
Brightly had risen to his feet, and was pacing the floor savagely.
“Bright,” exclaimed his friend, “Bright, don’t say that! You do wrong
to believe it; you can’t believe it. I tell you if it isn’t all a
mistake there’s some good reason for it, and one that does no discredit
to you, or to Colonel Silsbee either. Why can’t you let it rest at
that, Bright, and brace up. Get back to where you were three months
ago, and stay there, and don’t give Brede and his set the chance to see
you go to pieces.
“And there’s another thing, too,” continued Harple, as Brightly seated
himself again in the chair by the window. “I’m afraid there’s going to
be trouble here before the term is over. There’s a kind of uneasiness
among the boys; they’ve been up to a good deal of mischief lately, and
the colonel’s drawing the lines pretty tight, and they’re chafing under
’em. It gets that way every year,--it seems to come in with the spring
air; but I’ve never seen it so bad before as it is now. It wouldn’t
take much to start a first-class insurrection. If such a storm comes,
Bright, I don’t want you to get swept away in it. I’d be awfully sorry
to see you lose your head entirely.”
Brightly appreciated his friend’s unselfish anxiety and earnestness on
his account, but he was not deeply impressed with Harple’s argument.
There was a tender pitch to his voice though, as he laughed a little,
said he guessed there was no danger, and continued, more earnestly:
“But I’m much obliged to you, Charley; you mean well by me, and you’re
a good fellow. I’ll try not to disgrace you anyway.”
“All right! I must go now; Roberts’ll wonder what’s become of me.
Say, Bright,” turning back into the room, “look out for Belcher! He’s
breathing out threatenings and slaughter against you. Keep your temper;
don’t let him draw you into a quarrel,--he’s a bad lot. That’s all
to-day. No charge. Good-by.”
“Good-by.”
At six o’clock, when the signal for retreat was sounded, a steady storm
had set in, and the line was formed in the drill-hall. Brightly came
down while the roll was being called, and, in the absence of the major,
received the salutes and reports of the inferior staff-officers. It
grew to be so dark in the hall that the wall lamps were lighted.
After retreat the boys usually remained downstairs until the
supper-bell was rung; and to-night, on account of the storm, nearly
every one was in the drill-hall. Some were gathered in groups, some
promenaded up and down the hall, some ran about playing jokes on their
companions.
Among these last was a boy of twelve or fourteen, whom capricious
nature had rendered so extravagantly obese that he resembled a great,
overgrown baby. He had a round, good-natured face, a complexion as fair
and rosy as a girl’s, and a voice that would have done credit to a miss
of fifteen. When he walked or ran, the flesh on his body shook and
tumbled about like jelly.
Those upon whom his pranks were being played turned on him at last, a
dozen of them, and backing him up against the wall, amused themselves
by running full tilt against him and rebounding from his elastic body.
Finally they dragged him to a corner of the drill-hall, where a
large box stood on end, and hoisting him to the top of it with much
roughness, they bent before him in mock reverence, hailing him as “His
Fatness the King of Hogland.” He beamed down upon them good-naturedly
for a moment, and then replied, in his peculiar, falsetto voice,--
“I thank you kindly, my dear little pigs. You shall have an extra
allowance of pig-feed to-night to pay you for these marks of high
esteem.”
The next moment his round face took on a look of feigned horror; he
rolled awkwardly down from his perch, and fled with ludicrous haste
across the hall, followed by an increased crowd of tormentors.
Brightly stood in a corner watching the rude play, and laughing
listlessly. Captain Brede and Cadet Belcher were walking up and down
the south side of the drill-hall, conversing together in low tones.
“I wouldn’t stand it,” said Brede, looking furtively at Brightly as
they passed. “I’d let him know he couldn’t insult me if I was in
the ranks. And he struck you with his sword; why, I heard the blow
myself. It’s an outrage,--it’s a brutal outrage. He wouldn’t use a
man that way the second time that belongs to my company, I can tell
you; but Harple, your captain, why Harple’d lie down and roll over to
let Brightly stamp on him. No, sir! You’ll never get any satisfaction
unless you take it yourself.”
Belcher looked across to where Brightly was still standing, as if
measuring with his eye the muscular strength of the young adjutant.
“I’ve a mind to tackle him now,” he said. “I can tell him what I think
of him, anyway.”
“I would; I’d do it. And if he gives you any of his impudence, slap his
face for him. You’ve got a right to; he’s no better than you are, out
of ranks. He deserves a good thrashing, anyway, and I’d like to see him
get it.”
They were crossing the hall now, toward Brightly. Belcher was working
himself into an appropriate frame of mind for the attack on his
intended victim.
“Give it to him, Belch!” urged Brede again, in a whisper; “give it to
him! I’ll stand by you. I’ll see you through it.”
Thus encouraged, Belcher loosed his hold on the captain’s arm and
walked directly up to Brightly, while Brede, standing at a little
distance from them, looked on with a cruel light in his gray eyes and a
cruel smile on his thin lips.
He did not care so much that Belcher should be protected as he did that
Brightly should be punished. He was shrewd and unscrupulous; he was
proud and boastful. By his craft he had gained standing in his studies;
by his self-laudation he had gained a following in the school.
But Brightly had seen through him, had measured him, had disliked
him from the start. Brede knew it, and it angered him. He employed
every means in his power to hurt Brightly without incurring the
risk of a personal encounter. His triumph when he obtained the
ranking cadet-office was great but short-lived. Brightly ignored him
and snubbed him more after that than he ever had before, and this
engendered hate in his heart.
He longed to see this fellow humbled, subdued, punished, degraded. This
was why he was urging Belcher on. He knew that Belcher would probably
get worsted in an encounter; he did not care for that if only Brightly
were disgraced.
Belcher stepped before the adjutant in a threatening attitude, with his
hands clinched at his side.
“I want to know,” he said, “what right you had to insult me in the
ranks to-day, and to strike me with your sword?”
Brightly folded his arms, and looked coolly at his antagonist.
“I do not,” he replied, “explain my conduct as an officer to a private
in the ranks.”
“Your conduct as a bully!” exclaimed Belcher. “An officer who is a
gentleman wouldn’t be guilty of doing what you did to-day. You were
given the office of adjutant because it was a place where you could
do the least mischief, and you wouldn’t have got that if your mother
hadn’t come here and begged it for you. You got it out of pity.”
Brightly’s eyes began to flash, but his arms still remained folded.
“That’s a lie,” he said deliberately.
Already a crowd had gathered around the two boys. Some had heard
Belcher’s loud words, others had scented the trouble from afar. They
swarmed to the scene of conflict, as boys always do, like honey-bees to
a field of clover.
They were pressing in wildly toward the two disputants. They had
expected a quarrel between them, and now it was on. They were bound to
see and hear the whole of it.
Belcher had worked himself into a white heat.
“Officer!” he exclaimed sarcastically; “officer! You’re nothing but a
cowardly bully!”
Brightly’s arms were loosed and dropped to his side. His face grew
pale. His fingers twitched convulsively, the veins on his forehead
stood out dark and prominent. “One more word,” he said slowly, “and
I’ll strike you.”
“A hundred words if you like,” replied Belcher, passionately, “and
strike if you dare! I repeat it that you’re a cowardly bully and a
disgrace to--”
He had not time to finish the sentence. Brightly’s hand came up like a
flash; but his stroke was parried and returned. Blows fell from each
in quick succession; then the combatants clinched, and the next moment
they were struggling in each other’s arms with the fury of wild beasts.