I said, “We should worry about the cavalry; the only thing that this
cavalry can surround is the organ on the merry-go-round.”
“I can surround a frankfurter,” Pee-wee shouted. Believe me, he could.
Harry said, “The cavalry will dismount; you’re all court-martialed and
ordered to be shot at sunrise in the shooting gallery. Fall in line.”
Jiminies, I had to laugh to see that bunch trotting along after the
autos, all the while munching frankfurters. I guess we were the craziest
looking parade that ever was; but you can have a lot of fun being crazy,
that’s one thing sure. All the people stopped what they were doing and
followed after us. Most of the things that they were doing were eating.
I wouldn’t stop doing that for anybody, I wouldn’t.
All around were veterans in old blue coats and they were sitting in
groups talking; they were talking about Gettysburg and Richmond, and
General Grant, and things like that. One of them was talking about Sugar
Loaf Mountain and Pee-wee kind of slowed up so as he could listen. I
guess he thought it was some kind of candy, hey? Harry looked around and
shouted, “Attention!” And the kid jumped about a foot in the air.
Pretty soon we came to a little tent and there was a sign on it that
said, “_Administration Tent_.”
Pee-wee shouted, “Go on, till we come to the commissary tent.”
I shouted back to him, “You’re a whole commissary in yourself. You’re a
nice looking sight to demand a surrender. The first thing you want to
seize is a wash basin!”
Sitting in front of that tent were several veterans and one of them was
kind of cross and severe looking and he had a bald head. His head was so
bald that I guess he didn’t know where to stop washing his face. You
couldn’t even tell where his face was unless he put his hat on. He
looked as if he was used to bossing people around. Anyway, I knew he was
a Union soldier, because he had a telegram in his hand and it said
_Western Union_ on it.
We all stopped right in front of the tent and Harry got down and made a
salute; it was awful funny. He said, “Major Grumpy, I believe?”
“That is my name, sir,” the old man said, very stern, kind of like a
school principal.
Harry said, “I am Lieutenant Donnelle and these are my allied forces. We
come here under the protection of a white—eh, a white popcorn bar. Hold
up the popcorn bar, Private Harris.”
“It’s all gone,” Private Harris piped up.
Harry said, “I’m very sorry that our flag of truce has been eaten by one
of our starving troopers. We are here to demand the surrender——”
“Scouts are supposed to say _please_” Will Dawson piped up.
Harry said, “Right. Scouts are polite even amid bloodshed and the roar
of cannon.”
Major Grumpy said, “You look as if you had just taken the city of
Frankfort, judging from your rear guard.”
Harry said, “Major Grumpy, your official report that Uncle Tom’s Cabin
will not be given here to-day is not true; it is a garbled report. Allow
me to tell you that, thanks to the boy scouts whom you sneer at and
evict from your property, Eliza will be chased as per schedule, Uncle
Tom will be thoroughly beaten, and little Eva will die and go to heaven
as announced.”
Major Grumpy was kind of surprised. First he looked us all over, and
Brent took off his hat and flapped his long sleeves at him, awful funny.
Then the major said, “Who put you off this property?”
Then Harry said, “What you do to a boy scout, you do to every boy scout
in the United States, including Mars and Grumpy’s Cross-roads and all
outlying sections. When you put these little townsmen of yours out of
that shady grove over there, you put _us_ out. Do you know that? Even
Uncle Tom, who gets whipped six times a week, not including Wednesday
and Saturday matinees, says he never heard of such treatment. You call
the Grand Army a kind of brotherhood, but let me tell you, Major, that
we’ve got that name _brotherhood_ copyrighted, all rights reserved. When
you put these little fellows off your land, you put half a million
scouts off your land, and that’s a bigger army than the Grand Army ever
was.
“We sent up a signal to say that we were coming and that message was
delivered to you and you thought it was a lot of nonsense.”
The major said, “So you were responsible for that column of smoke, hey?”
Harry said, “You’re kind of old fashioned, Major, on signal corps work.
That was us, all right, and these little neighbors of yours gave you the
message and you laughed at them. Well, here we are with the goods,
Little Eva weeping her eyes out, Topsy ready to cut up, and Simon Legree
with his whip; here we are just as we said we’d be—Johnny on the spot.
We’ve brought with us every veteran between here and Barrow’s Homestead
and they’re with us to the last ditch. Field Marshal Gaylong here is
feared by every crow in the west. Now what are you going to do about it?
“We purpose, Major, to cut off your base of supplies; it’s either that
or surrender. We want that shady little grove over there as indemnity.
If we don’t get it we’re going to seize all the ice cream, all the soda
water, all the lemonade, all the candy, all the popcorn on this bloody
battlefield and starve you out. The Grand Army will look like Grand
Street, New York, when we get through with it.”
“And frankfurters too!” Pee-wee shouted.
“There won’t be a frankfurter left to tell the tale,” Harry said; “this
peaceful land will run red with red lemonade. Now what do you say?”
Gee whiz, I wouldn’t accuse Harry of being a traitor, but just the same
I saw him wink at Major Grumpy, and Major Grumpy began to smile, and
then he offered Harry a cigarette.
That was giving aid and comfort to the enemy, all right.