RICHARD DOES GUARD DUTY, AND IS CAPTURED BY AN ENEMY.
Camping out was a great event at Tunbrook, and the students looked
forward to it with pleasant anticipations for weeks. The principal was
shrewd in his policy, and no one knew when it would take place till it
was announced, only a day or two before the march. By this plan he
prevented any diversion of the thoughts from the lessons. Neither did
the boys know where they were going when they started. They obeyed the
orders which were given from time to time, and even when they halted
for the night and pitched their tents, they could not find out whether
they had reached the end of the march or not. The colonel told them
that soldiers should be taught to obey orders, and cured of all
propensity to ask questions.
The tour of camp duty for the summer term had been almost a continuous
march; and during the campaign of ten days, they had travelled over a
hundred miles. Colonel Brockridge was an earnest believer in the
necessity of physical development in boys. He was of the opinion that
they could stand almost every thing, if they were regularly and
systematically inured to hardship. Weak papas and tender mammas raised
their hands with horror at the idea of having their Johnny sleep on the
ground in a tent, and stick to the camp whether it was fair weather or
foul; but the colonel could adduce hundreds of instances where boys of
puny constitutions had become strong and vigorous under this treatment.
He believed that more boys had been spoiled by being "babied" than ever
had been injured in the slightest degree by hardship--if military duty,
as it was performed at Tunbrook, could be called hardship. It was very
certain that the boys enjoyed camping out; and if a few of them sneezed
or coughed after their return, these were not regarded as fatal
symptoms.
Richard was in his element when the school was put upon its muscle.
Though nothing but a private in Company D, and subject to the orders of
his inferiors in body and mind, he performed his duty cheerfully, and
enjoyed it very much. After Nevers had been cured of his folly, there
was not another boy in the establishment who had the hardihood or the
desire to impose upon him.
Every thing was done with military order and precision on the morning
that the battalion marched from the Institute. Though the reader knows
where they were going, not an officer or a private had a suspicion of
their destination; and none but a few of the new comers asked the
question, or appeared to care. In front of the battalion was the band,
and behind it came the wagons containing the tents, baggage, and
pontoon train. The principal and the instructors were scattered along
the line, where they could superintend the operations of the column.
Major Morgan, in command of the battalion, had evidently received
instructions for a portion of the day; for, without any direction from
the teachers, he led his command over the road to the grove, and in
fifteen minutes after they started, the order to halt was given. The
battalion stood rigid as a stake where they were ordered, and presently
the engineer corps was detached for duty. The pontoon wagon was brought
up, and unloaded by the side of the river. The boats, which were of
rubber, were inflated, and the business of building a bridge across the
stream was commenced.
Every thing was so nicely prepared that the work was accomplished in an
incredibly short space of time. The battalion, followed by its wagons,
crossed the pontoon bridge, the boats and the planks were taken up and
loaded upon the wagon again, and the troops were ready to march.
Neither Colonel Brockridge nor any of the instructors had spoken a word
during these operations, for the engineers had been thoroughly trained
in their difficult duty.
For an hour the battalion marched without stopping. The orders
"shoulder arms," "support arms," "right shoulder shift" relieved them
occasionally; but some legs began to ache before a halt was permitted.
During the next hour they marched most of the way with the "route
step." At twelve o'clock they halted for dinner and an hour's rest. The
haversacks of the soldiers had been filled with crackers and cold ham,
and they had a jolly dinner in a grove where they stopped.
About four o'clock in the afternoon, they reached the upper end of the
lake, and the orders necessary for forming a camp were given. The tents
were pitched, the boundaries of the camp marked out, and a detail for
guard duty was made from each company. Every thing proceeded precisely
as it would if they had been old soldiers, and engaged in the actual
business of war.
Richard was one of those who had been detailed from Company D, for
guard duty. The camp ground was a large, open plain, bordering on one
side upon a dense forest. The night was dark and dismal, and at nine
o'clock Richard found himself walking his lonely beat, on the verge of
the forest. There was a novelty about the situation that was very
attractive to him, and as he walked his solitary round, he actually
enjoyed it. It was not to all probable that an enemy, or even a
straggler, would disturb the quiet of the scene by attempting to pass
the line; but though the guard had been commanded to be vigilant, he
had abundant time and opportunity for reflection and castle-building.
Our sentinel had imbibed much of the spirit of the soldier, from the
martial exercise to which he had been trained, and he indulged in some
pretty visions of military glory. They were very pleasant and very
alluring at that time, when the country was enjoying profound peace.
Even the politicians, who were compromising with difficulties, present
and future, never dreamed that the war blast would sound through the
land in their day and generation, and were unbelievers in the dire
prophecies which they uttered. While Richard's fancy led him to scenes
of blood and glory on the battle field, he little thought that an
opportunity would so soon be presented for the practical application of
his military knowledge, and for the indulgence of his military
ambition.
While he was dreaming of war and glory, while in imagination he was
leading battalions of brave men to battle and victory, his reflections
were disturbed by the approach of a squad of boys. It was so dark that
he did not see them till they were within a few rods of him. It was
evident that they had left the tents by stealth, and must have crept
some portion of the way on the ground to escape observation. When they
came near enough to be challenged, the guard called out,--
"Who comes there?"
"Friends," replied one of the party.
"Advance, one friend, and give the countersign."
One of them stepped forward, and Richard held him at bay with his
bayonet, according to military custom.
"I declare, I have forgotten the countersign," said he.
"Then I will call the corporal of the guard."
"No; hold on a minute. I shall think of it in a moment."
Richard was willing to give him a fair chance, as there was no enemy in
the vicinity who could possibly intend to capture the battalion. But
while he was waiting, the fellow suddenly grasped his musket, and
attempted to wrest it from his hands. But this was a game at which two
could play as well as one; and Richard, instead of giving the alarm, as
he should have done, threw himself upon his muscle, and attempted to
beat off his assailants.
The rest of the party immediately came to the assistance of the fellow,
and, after a short but sharp struggle, the sentinel was overpowered,
and his gun taken from him. At the conclusion of the struggle Richard
found himself upon his back, on the ground, held down by the whole
squad of boys, or as many as could get hold of him. One of them held a
handkerchief over his mouth, so that he could not give the alarm, now
that he found it necessary to do so.
Richard supposed this rough treatment could be nothing more than a
practical joke--one of those tricks played off upon raw recruits, to
teach them the necessity of vigilance, and a nice observance of the
rules of the service. When he was overpowered, therefore, he submitted
to his fate, whatever it might prove to be, hoping his captors would
relax their hold upon him just long enough to enable him to turn the
tables upon them; for he was vain enough to believe that he could whip
the whole dozen of them, if he could only have fair play.
"Let him up, now, and we will tie his hands behind him," said one of
the party, in a feigned voice, to prevent the victim from recognizing
the speaker.
"But he will halloo, if we let him up," replied the one who had
answered his challenge, and whose voice Richard could not identify.
"I'll stop his mouth, if he hallooes," added the first speaker. "I'll
hit him over the head with the butt of his musket."
"No, no," said the other; "you'll kill him. We don't want to injure
him."
"I do; I wouldn't mind cracking his skull for him."
"No, no; we shall get into trouble ourselves if we do any thing of that
kind."
Richard thought they would any way, as soon as he could obtain the use
of his arms. He felt so well qualified to take care of himself that he
would have been willing to give his bond not to halloo, or call any one
to his assistance, though he could not help wondering that the
sentinels whose beats were next to his own, did not arrive at the scene
of operations. It was evident to him that they were asleep on their
posts, or that they were accomplices of the conspirators.
"Now, get up," said the speaker, who used the disguised voice.
Richard promptly obeyed this order, and though several of the boys held
on to him as he rose, a terrible struggle ensued, in which the captured
sentinel almost made good his mental boast; but they were too many for
him, and his hands were tied behind him with a knapsack strap, in spite
of his best exertions to shake them off.
"I told you he would be a hard customer," said one, who had not before
spoken.
"Shut up, you ninny! You'll blow the whole of us. No fellow is to speak
but--you know whom," said he with the assumed voice.
Richard tried to obtain, in the thick darkness that shrouded them, some
clew which would enable him to identify the ruffians; but he could not
make out any thing peculiar in their form or motions to guide him, and
he was equally at fault in regard to the voices. He stood quiet when he
found that resistance was useless; but he determined to keep a sharp
lookout for an opportunity to release himself from his mortifying
situation.
"Now, you----"
"My name is Dobbin," added the false voice.
Richard did not remember any such name, though he had heard the roll
called in all the companies, and he concluded that it was a "blind," to
deceive him.
"Now, Dobbin, take him off, and we will settle the case in the woods."
"Lead the way, Kennedy, and we will follow; but be careful and not make
a noise."
"Hush!" said Dobbin; "somebody is coming."
"Grand rounds!" added Kennedy. "Hurry him off as quick as you can.
Stuff a handkerchief in his mouth; choke him if he attempts to cry
out."
"But they will miss him," suggested Dobbin, "and then there will be a
row and a search."
"Off with him! Off with him! We shall all get caught," whispered
Kennedy. "I will take his gun, and keep guard."
Richard was literally dragged from the spot, and the fellow who called
himself Kennedy--though that was not his name--took the musket of the
defeated sentinel, and began to travel his beat as regularly as though
he had been duly detailed.
"Who comes there?" demanded he, as the officer of the day, attended by
a sergeant and two men, approached his beat.
"Grand rounds," replied the sergeant.
"Halt, grand rounds! Advance, sergeant, with the countersign."
The sergeant advanced to give the countersign, without discovering that
he had been challenged by the wrong man.
"_Bennington_" said the sergeant, giving the word appointed for the
night.
"Advance, rounds!" added Kennedy, as he placed himself in the proper
position.
The officer of the day passed on with his attendants, and as soon as
the ceremony had been repeated with the next sentinel, Kennedy threw
the musket upon the ground, and followed his companions into the
forest. Taking a road which led into the wood, he soon overtook the
rest of the party.
Richard was very curious to find out what his captors intended to do
with him; for he could not even yet believe that any thing more serious
than a practical joke was intended. He was not conscious that he had an
enemy in the battalion, with the exception of Nevers, who, though he
had bestowed a great many sneers and looks of hatred upon him during
the week that had elapsed since the fight, had betrayed no intention to
seek revenge for his defeat in fair fight. He knew that Nevers hated
him, but he could not believe that he would resort to such underhand
measures as the conspirators had adopted.
"What are you going to do?" asked he, after Kennedy had joined them.
"Shut up! You will find out soon enough."
Richard tried to open a conversation with them, but they were too wary
to talk, and no one spoke except Dobbin and Kennedy. They conducted
their prisoner half a mile, as he judged, from the camp, when they
halted, and fastened Richard to a tree, seating themselves upon logs
and stumps. The captive waited impatiently for the proceedings to
commence.