TOM HAS AN IDEA.
Tom had made a desperate effort to raise himself from the ranks to
the position of an officer, but he had signally failed. He did not
feel angry, but he was astonished to discover that his magnificent
plan, which, at the beginning, had held out such bright promises of
success, had so completely miscarried. He could not understand it.
He repeatedly assured himself that he had used his best endeavors to
uphold the honor and dignity of the academy; but, as was invariably
the case with him, he had been unsuccessful; and it was all owing to
the fact that his efforts had not been appreciated. In fact, nobody
ever appreciated any thing he tried to accomplish. Do what he would,
some one was always ready to scold and find fault with him; and, with
Tom’s amazement, there was mingled not a little disappointment. The
eagles, which he so confidently expected would soon adorn his own
shoulders, was still the property of one, who, in his estimation, was
most unworthy of them, and, at present, he could discover no means of
securing their possession. This, he imagined, afforded him abundant
proof that what Rich had told him was true--that the officers held
their positions through favoritism. The lieutenant-colonel was
undoubtedly the principal’s favorite; and all attempts to wrest the
eagles from him, especially while he could rely upon the assistance
of so powerful a friend as the professor, would be useless. This
discouraged Tom, who now began to realize the fact that his chances
for obtaining a shoulder-strap were very slim indeed.
As these thoughts passed through the new student’s mind, he entered
his dormitory, where he was again confronted by the sergeant, who
informed him that he was wanted down stairs. Scarcely comprehending
what was said to him, Tom retraced his steps to the hall, and finally
found his way into the school-room, where all the students were
congregated, engaged in studying their lessons for the morrow. Tom
took the seat pointed out to him, and listlessly picking up his
arithmetic, he fastened his eyes on the page, (although, in his
bewilderment, he did not notice that he held the book upside down,)
and again pondered upon what had transpired during his interview with
the principal.
“Now, what shall I do?” he soliloquized. “I have tried, many a time
during my life, to do a teacher a kindness, but I’ll never do it
again as long as I live. The academy may go to ruin for all I care.
This isn’t the first time I have been called a tale-bearer for trying
to follow the ‘golden rule’--doing as I would be done by. If any one
should speak ill of me, in the presence of a friend, wouldn’t I want
that friend to come and tell me of it? Of course I would, and I would
reward him for it if I could. But the principal don’t look at it in
that light. He has his favorites, and he is determined that he won’t
hear any thing said against them. He has no honor about him. He’s
the meanest man I ever saw and I’ll never try to help him again. And
I’ve got to stay here almost five months! O, I can’t be a soldier!”
During the entire hour and a half that the students were required
to remain at their books, Tom’s mind was so fully occupied with
such thoughts as these, that, when he returned to his dormitory, he
knew no more about his lessons than he did when he first entered
the school-room. But he was not at all concerned about that, for
a more important matter was demanding his attention, and that was
the interview that the principal had promised him in the morning.
What would the colonel do with him? Tom almost gasped as he asked
himself this question, for he thought of the guard-house, with
“bread-and-water diet,” and the “two hours extra duty at night, with
bricks in his knapsack.” But there was no escaping his punishment,
whatever it might be, and Tom, at last, resolved to “stand and take
it like a man.” When he awoke in the morning, he repeated this
determination, which was accompanied by a wish that the colonel would
“be in a hurry about it, and not keep him waiting.” He was not kept
long in suspense, however, for just as he finished his breakfast, an
orderly informed him that the principal desired his presence in the
school-room.
“Aha, Newcombe!” whispered Rich, who at that moment happened to pass
through the hall, and who saw, by Tom’s looks, that something was
wrong, “you are going to be hauled over the coals, are you? I knew
just how it would be when I saw you talking with those Spooneys last
night. I guess you’ll pay more attention to a friend’s advice in the
future.”
Tom tried hard to muster up courage enough to enable him to pass
through the interview in an easy, unconcerned manner, but the attempt
was a complete failure; for, when he found himself in the presence
of the principal, he trembled and turned pale in spite of himself.
To his surprise, however, he was not sentenced to the guard-house,
neither was he obliged to perform extra duty, but he listened to a
lecture on tale-bearing that made him ashamed of himself. It was a
difficult matter, however, to convince Tom that he was in the wrong;
and when he left the school-room, he repeated the conclusion at which
he had arrived the night before, that the principal was “the meanest
man he ever saw.” He congratulated himself on escaping so easily,
but it was not long before he almost wished that he had been shut
up in the guard-house, so that he might have avoided what followed.
First came half an hour’s drill, with muskets, which disgusted Tom,
and made him wonder why he had ever been so foolish as to think of
becoming a soldier. Then came an hour’s hard study, and, after that,
his arithmetic lesson, in which, as was to be expected, he failed
completely. This was followed by exercise with the broadswords,
during which Tom whispered to the boy who stood next to him, that
“Bill Steele threw on a heap of style for one who was nothing but
a first lieutenant.” This brought him a caution from the adjutant,
who desired Tom to pay more attention to what was going on, and
postpone his talking until after drill hours. Taking all things into
consideration, Tom thought that he had never before passed such a
long and disagreeable day. The discipline was very strict; and, on
more than one occasion, Tom was sent to his dormitory to read the
rules and regulations, in order that he might know that he had
violated some of them. The lessons were long and difficult, the
drills tedious and uninteresting; and long before play-time arrived
he had repeatedly assured some of his class-mates that he had “seen
enough of the military school.” When dress-parade was over, Tom, in
no amiable frame of mind, took his seat under one of the trees, where
he was soon joined by his three friends.
“Well, Newcombe!” said Rich, “what did the old colonel say to you?
Did he give you a blowing up?”
“O, yes he did!” replied the new student. Then, fearing that his
companions might inquire into the matter, he added: “Boys, you had
better look out! There’s an awful story-teller in the school!”
“Now, that’s just what we told you!” said Miller, who, of course,
little imagined that Tom himself was the tale-bearer. “We warned
you to keep away from every one wearing a shoulder-strap, but you
wouldn’t pay any attention to us. You always were a bull-headed
rascal, and I don’t pity you in the least.”
“But we haven’t got any thing against you!” chimed in Rich. “If you
will fall in with us, we’ll keep you out of all such difficulties.
You see we have been here long enough to know all the ropes, and you
won’t lose any thing by taking our advice.”
“I am the unluckiest boy in the whole world,” said Tom. “I’m always
getting into trouble. I may as well stick to you now, because I never
can be an officer.”
“Of course you can’t. We told you that before. But, Newcombe, we’ve
got something to propose to you. Martin, just excuse us a moment.”
So saying, Rich and Miller took Tom by the arm, and, after leading
him to an unfrequented part of the ground, the latter continued:
“Newcombe, we have been thinking of admitting some new members to our
society. There are eleven good fellows here, and we should like to
see them brought in. Our constitution provides that any two officers,
higher than the rank of captain, may admit as many as they please.
You, being grand commander, and I a fourth colonel, the job can be
easily done. I know there is not much prospect now that it will ever
be of any use to them, but there is no knowing what may happen.”
“Bring them in!” said Tom, who was ready to join in any thing that
would occupy his mind, and drive out the remembrance of his day’s
experience. “Go and get them Rich--one at a time.”
The latter at once started off to hunt up the boys belonging to the
“set,” and presently Martin approached the place where Tom and Miller
were standing, and made known his desire to be admitted as a member
of the society.
“Take off your cap,” said Tom, who, by virtue of his high rank,
conducted the proceedings. “Now, Richard Martin, do you solemnly
promise that, if you are admitted to this society, you will obey its
rules and regulations?”
“I do!” answered Martin.
“Well, then,” continued the grand commander, “listen to the
constitution by which you will be governed.”
So saying, Tom, after having removed his own cap, and cast his eye
about the grounds to see that no one was within hearing, drew a
paper from his pocket, and read, in a whisper, as follows:
We, the boys of the village of Newport, in order to form a more
perfect union, protect ourselves from all outsiders, promote
harmony and good feeling, provide for our defense against those who
have proved themselves unworthy of our friendship, do ordain and
establish this constitution for the Night-hawks.
ARTICLE I. Believing, as we firmly do, that all monarchies and
aristocracies are bound to be overthrown, the government of this
society shall be democratic. The majority shall always rule.
ARTICLE II. No boy shall be admitted as a member of this society,
who has once proved unfaithful to his promise, or who shall not
bind himself to obey all its rules and regulations, strive to
promote peace and harmony among the members, and carefully guard
all its secrets from outsiders.
ARTICLE III. In order to fully carry out the objects of this
society, every member, upon admittance, shall receive the
appointment of corporal. All Night-hawks shall be officers in
the line of promotion, and daring exploits shall not be passed
unnoticed.
ARTICLE IV. New members may be admitted by any two officers of
higher rank than captain, upon recommendation of at least two
members in good standing.
ARTICLE V. When any member is known to be in trouble, it shall
be the duty of all to hasten to his relief. As prosperity makes
friends, and adversity tries them, all good Night-hawks will stick
to each other through thick and thin. No member, who refuses to
render prompt assistance to a companion in adversity shall be
considered a good Night-hawk.
ARTICLE VI. This constitution may be amended by a two-thirds vote
of all the members of the society.
“There!” said Tom, when he had finished reading the document, “do you
again promise to faithfully obey this constitution?”
“Yes,” replied Martin, “I’ll stick to what I said in the first place.
But I don’t see what good such a society will do us here.”
“There’s no knowing what may turn up,” said Tom. “You may see the
use of it before you are many weeks older. Now I will give you a
certificate. As you are a stranger here, you won’t know the village
boys when you meet them; so, besides the signs and pass-words which
we shall teach you presently, it will be necessary for you to have
something to show.”
As Tom spoke, he drew his memorandum-book from his pocket, and,
tearing out a leaf, handed it to Miller, who drew up the following
certificate of membership:
“This certifies that Corporal Richard Martin has, this day
(Tuesday, August 14th) been admitted as a member of our society,
and that he is entitled to all the rights and privileges of a
Night-hawk. Members are instructed to treat him with the usual
respect.”
When Tom and Miller had affixed their signatures to the document, the
former handed it to Martin, saying: “Now, then, whenever you come
across a Night-hawk, give him that paper, and he’ll use you like a
gentleman. Bring on the next.”
One by one the boys belonging to the “set” came forward, and were
admitted with all due solemnity. In half an hour they had all been
initiated; and, after drawing them up in a line, Tom began to teach
them the signs and pass-words. Some of the boys were pleased with
the society, while others, like Martin, declared that they “couldn’t
see the use of it.” However, they all promised to obey the rules
and regulations; and, when the business had been transacted, the
Night-hawks were dismissed.
For three weeks Tom led a most unhappy life at the academy. His
lessons were long and difficult; but he really tried to master them,
and to obey all the rules, for he feared the punishment that would
be inflicted upon him in case of failure. He had so long given way
to his careless habits, however, that it was almost an impossibility
for him to conform to all the regulations. Just at the moment when he
conceived that he was making rapid progress, he would suddenly find
himself in some difficulty. One afternoon, after he had learned the
manual of arms, and was ordered to attend dress parade, he could not
find his musket. He was certain that he had put it carefully in its
proper place; and, when brought up before the principal, he informed
that gentleman that it had been taken by some of the students,
who wished to play a joke upon him. But, when the matter was
investigated, it was found that the missing musket had been picked up
in the yard by one of the teachers. Then Tom remembered that, while
engaged in cleaning the weapon, he had been summoned to his class,
and that he had thrown the musket down, intending to return for it as
soon as he had recited his lesson. But he had forgotten all about
it, and the musket was put into what the boys called the “lucky
bag.” Of course there was more than one careless student in the
academy; and, to teach them to pay more attention to their duties,
any articles that were found lying about the building or grounds,
were taken care of by the teachers, and the owner was obliged to
undergo some slight punishment as a penalty. Such articles as knives,
foot-balls, and bats were often mislaid, but no one had ever before
heard of a musket being lost, and the colonel thought the offense
called for some extra punishment. So that night Tom was put on guard
duty, and was obliged to walk his beat for two hours, with his musket
on his shoulder, and a heavy knapsack on his back. This was the first
time he had been punished while at the academy, and his rage knew no
bounds. When he came off guard he went to bed, resolved that he would
stay in the school no longer. If his offense had been a serious one,
he would not have cared any thing about it; but compelling a boy to
stand two hours’ extra guard duty just because he lost his musket,
was carrying matters altogether too far. He wouldn’t stand it.
But there was another thing that was a source of great trouble to Tom
just then, and that was the examination that was fast approaching,
and of which he had that day received a vivid and glowing description
from his two friends, Rich and Miller. These reviews were held
twice each year, and, when they were ended, the students went
into camp--or, rather, that part of them who passed the required
examination. The others remained at the academy “under arrest.” While
the successful scholars were enjoying themselves, they were deprived
of all liberty, and required to continue the regular routine of study
and drill.
To have their names placed on the list with those who were to be
permitted to go into camp, was the highest ambition of all the
scholars in the academy. They worked harder for it than they did for
shoulder-straps. The camping-grounds were situated about nine miles
from the village, in a beautiful valley, through which ran a clear,
dancing trout brook. In going to and from these grounds the students
were commanded by their own officers, had their baggage-train,
which contained their knapsacks, provisions, and camp equipage,
and conducted themselves in all respects like an army on a march.
Skirmishers were occasionally thrown out, as if “feeling” an enemy’s
position; invisible foes were charged and routed, and imaginary
breastworks were carried at the point of the bayonet. While in camp
all study was suspended, and no work, except guard duty was required
of the students. Those off duty were allowed furloughs, and trout
fishing was the order of the day. In short, even the laziest students
acknowledged that two weeks’ liberty among the hills more than made
amends for three months hard study. All this, we repeat, had been
described to Tom, and it was no wonder that he looked forward to the
examination with rather an anxious eye. He had assured his father
that he would appear at the next camp wearing an officer’s uniform;
but he had given up all hopes of being able to fulfill his promise.
Instead of resolving to go earnestly to work to win the coveted
shoulder-straps, and, acting upon his resolution, he began to look
about to discover some way by which he might be able to avoid the
examination, which he knew would result in his being obliged to
remain at the academy.
For the next two days, Tom was in a fever of excitement. He took no
interest whatever in his duties, but spent all his time in thinking
and planning. One day, during play-hours, he paid a visit to Miller
and Rich; and while in their dormitory, he picked up an old newspaper
that happened to be lying on the latter’s bed, and, while glancing
listlessly over its columns, his eye fell upon a paragraph that
instantly arrested his attention.
“Aha!” he exclaimed, after reading it over and over several times, in
order to fully comprehend its meaning. “I say, Rich, do you care if I
tear a piece out of this paper?”
“No!” replied the latter, looking up in surprise. “But what’s in the
wind now?”
“O, nothing!” answered Tom, hastily tearing out the article that had
interested him, and placing it in his pocket-book for safe keeping.
“Here’s something I want to save for future reference. I’ve got an
idea!”
“What is it, Newcombe?” asked Miller, eagerly. “Let us see that
paper!”
“O no, I can’t! I just say that I’ve got a splendid idea, and as soon
as I follow it out, I’ll tell you what it is. It will astonish you!”
“Will it? Then tell us what it is now!” said Rich, impatiently.
“Perhaps we can help you.”
“I don’t need any of your help. I can get along very well by myself.”
So saying, Tom turned on his heel and walked out of the dormitory,
leaving his two friends at a loss how to account for his strange
behavior.
Tom was now in his element. He had a “splendid idea” that he wanted
to “follow out.” He was generally very expert at such business, but,
in the present instance, he could not help acknowledging to himself
that his success was doubtful. He walked about among his companions
with his eyes fastened thoughtfully on the ground; and, although he
would occasionally chuckle to himself when he thought over his grand
idea, his face more frequently wore a disappointed look, as if he
found innumerable obstacles in his way. It was a more difficult task
than he had ever undertaken before, and it was two days before he
had thought the matter over and arrived at a conclusion. His was an
enterprise that demanded an unusual amount of attention, for it was
one that no other boy in the academy would have thought seriously
of attempting. But Tom, who had at last been led to realize the
fact that he could never be an officer, and being determined not to
remain at the academy under arrest while the students were enjoying
themselves, had resolved to do something desperate. In spite of the
entreaties of his friends, which were renewed at every opportunity,
Tom kept his own counsel, and, it was not until he had decided upon
his course, that he intimated to Rich, Miller, and Martin, that he
was ready to reveal his secret. So, one night, when dress parade was
over, Tom conducted his companions to a remote corner of the grounds,
where he gave them an insight into the “splendid idea” which had so
long occupied all his thoughts.