his position or allowing his eyes to wander for an instant from the
opposite tower, “and scratch down what I give you. Ready? Well, then,
start off with this: ‘Man--making--fuss--at--base--of--tower.’ Got
that? ‘Says--Orcutt--owes--him--big--money.’”
“Yes I’ve got it: all of it,” said I, snapping a rubber band across
the page as a check upon its tendency to get away from me in the fresh
breeze. “Very interesting, so far. Go on, old man: give us another
chapter of it. I’m waiting.”
“Ease away on your chatter, can’t you?” said Kenryck, a trifle
earnestly. “You’ll get me all balled-up in my receiving. Here,
take this: ‘Man’s--confounded--insolent: standing--in--street:
shouting--all--sorts--of--abuse--up--at--Orcutt.’ There, the sergeant’s
stopped sending, to give us a chance to digest what we already have.”
Word by word the message, unaltered by its transmission through the
hands of the party at the second station, was passed down to us by
the turret signalman. Something in his tone drew my attention, and I
looked up at him. He was red in the face with suppressed emotion.
“Is your man Orcutt efficient with his hands?” I asked Kenryck.
“Ought to be,” he replied. “He played left guard on the eleven for a
couple of years.”
“You’d better ask him, then,” I suggested, feeling that a rare
opportunity for testing the fighting capacity of the volunteer service
had arrived, “why he doesn’t fly down from his roost and punch the
fellow’s head?”
“I will!” said Kenryck promptly. And off went the question on its trip
around the circuit.
The reply came quickly back: “Citizen’s name is Boardman. Has policeman
with him, with some sort of papers. Orcutt’s willing to punch citizen,
but has serious doubts about punching policeman. Says it’s all mistake:
doesn’t owe anybody in Cambridge.” All of which I carefully entered in
the book, exactly as it was given to me.
“See here, Millar!” Kenryck shouted, as he caught the sound of laughter
from overhead, “do _you_ know anything about this business?”
“I think I do, a little--if not a good deal,” admitted that young man
in a choked sort of voice, grinning down at us through an embrasure.
“Yes, I think I’m in a fairly good position for understanding the whole
complication.”
“Humph! if it’s so almightily funny I fancy we’d better have
more light on it,” said Kenryck, with much dignity. “We’ll flag
over--‘_Instructions coming: wait!_’--and then I’ll trouble you to
explain the meaning of all this foolishness.”
“It’s this way,” said the signalman, appearing at the parapet wall,
after starting Kenryck’s order upon its travels: “Orcutt and I--you
may have noticed it--look almost enough alike to be taken for twins,
especially since he’s forced out that moustache of his. And that’s the
key to the mystery.”
“Give the key a twist, then,” said Kenryck. “Proceed with your
exposition.”
“To continue,” obediently went on the young man, “_I’m_ the party for
whom this Boardman is out gunning. He keeps a place where a lot of the
students have club-tables, and I used to belong to a club of fellows
that resorted there for nourishment--which, I may state, was not of
the highest grade, though we paid a princely price for it. Well, last
winter I had to be away from college for about three weeks, and I
left without giving notice to Boardman. Which resulted in two claims:
Boardman’s, that I owed him thirty dollars for three weeks’ un-eaten
grub--and _mine_, that he ought to be struck by lightning for his
superhuman nerve.”
“Ah! I have the clue now,” said Kenryck. “Come, let’s get to work on
straightening out things. Pick up your flag, and--”
“But that’s not quite all of it,” interrupted the occupant of the
turret. “You see, this man Boardman isn’t a pleasant person to have
dealings with. He’s very rough-tongued, and never sand-papers down his
sentences. And the last time we argued over our differences I was so
displeased by his lack of breeding that I--well, he made me hot under
my collar, and I hit him just above _his_. See?”
“Oho! he’s after you for assault, is he?” said Kenryck. “That’s
pleasant for Orcutt!”
“Yes, for assault--and battery,” assented Millar. “And I judge that
it may be _very_ pleasant for Orcutt. For Boardman swore that he’d get
square with me some day, and I fancy--though the reports from across
the river don’t go much into details--that he’s considerably in earnest
about doing the squaring-up without any farther delay.” And, in spite
of the seriousness of the situation, he gave way to another fit of
laughter.
“Ah, yes!” said Kenryck, frowning darkly upon his subordinate, “all
this is amazingly ludicrous, isn’t it? But you’ll have an aching arm,
just the same, before you get through with swinging that bamboo stick
of yours: for we’ve got to flag this story over to Cambridge--and a
very pretty bit of flagging it’ll make! Come, we’ve kept the other lads
long enough on pins and needles and anxious seats: we must get to work.”
The message to be sent was a long one. I sat down upon Kenryck’s chair,
pulled out my tobacco pouch, and charged my pipe afresh, for there
seemed to be nothing requiring my immediate attention. Minute slipped
after minute, while Kenryck’s voice kept along in steady monotone, and
the bunting above our heads--whirring and flapping in intermittent
accompaniment--busily went on with the task of changing the spoken
words into the symbols of the code.
“There, that’ll keep the hill men busy for a time,” Kenryck observed,
when the flag upon the turret gave a final downward sweep and then
became still. “Phew! it was a long pull.”
“Why don’t you cut your middle station out of the circuit?” I asked.
“It would save time if you did your talking direct.”
“Couldn’t think of it,” he replied. “These boys are out for practical
instruction, and I’m bound to see that they get it--_all_ of ’em.”
“Queer mix-up, isn’t it?” said I, with a laugh. “Wish I could have seen
the proceedings at the other end of the line.”
“So do I,” said the signal lieutenant, joining in my laughter; “but I’m
afraid this last message has spoiled the fun over there. Well, perhaps
it had gone far enough.”
“‘B’ station has finished transmitting, sir,” announced the youth above
us. “Cambridge has just made ‘O.K.’”
“All right,” answered Kenryck, lining his glasses upon the opposite
terminal. “Now we’ll get some results.”
“All ready,” said I, pulling my pencil from behind my ear and adjusting
my note-book. “Let it come.”
There was an interval of waiting, but at last the opposite tower began
to talk, and, as Kenryck passed the words to me, I spread upon the page
this remarkable entry:
“Told Boardman mistake. Says he knows better. Also, that we’re blanked
liars. Orcutt very uneasy: growing insubordinate. Proposes to smash
Boardman and policeman too. Tried to pitch loose tiles down upon their
heads. I stopped him. Tower door locked on our side. Which prevents
murder. Lieutenant better come over at once.”
This was cheeringly warlike. I burst into a roar of ill-timed mirth,
while Kenryck laid down his glasses and strode back and forth upon the
roof, giving profane utterance to his perplexity and paying no heed to
the calling-off of the signals from the hill.
I read over my last entry in the book, and roared again, which caused
Kenryck to pause in his tramping, glare at me, and snap out, “Can’t you
let me think? I’ve got to call a halt in this business somehow--and
there you sit, braying like a Himalayan donkey, and rattling the last
idea out of me! How about those car-load lots of advice? Come, suggest
something!”
“Heaven forbid!” said I, very earnestly. “This is your affair, and I’d
never venture to hint that you’re not more than able to swing it alone.
You’ve managed it beautifully so far as you’ve gone. But unless you
want your corps to come in for a heap of free advertising in tomorrow’s
papers, you’d do well to make another move--and a quick one.”
“I’ll call for a cab, and go over there myself,” announced Kenryck,
with a vicious stamp upon the tiles, “and, by The Great Indian! when I
_do_ get there I’ll give everybody--”
“Now just hold hard for a minute, my son,” I put in at this point.
“Consider things calmly. What’s the use of going to all that bother?
Besides, it would cost you all of three large dollars--and you can’t
draw mileage for that kind of travelling. There’s a much easier and
less troublesome way out of it.”
“Let’s have it then!” sputtered Kenryck. “You set yourself up to be a
sort of lawyer, don’t you? Well, here’s an elegant chance to show your
quality.”
“I am a lawyer,” said I, with unassuming dignity; “a young but very
subtle one. And since it’s your wish that I should be of counsel in
this case, why, I’ll settle your matter very speedily for you--and at
something off from my usual rates. In fact, I’ll call it a charity
job, and make no charge whatever. Now, pay attention to what I’m
telling you. Here’s what you’ll do: order your sergeant to keep Orcutt
quiet--if there’s no more convenient method, he may tip him over and
sit on him--until I can--”
“_Yes_, he may!” put in Kenryck, in a highly aggravating tone. “Why,
Orcutt weighs well up towards two hundred, besides being as full of
temper as a razor blade--and the sergeant’s a little man!”
“Will you hear me out, you gibberer?” I inquired gently. “I don’t
care how you manage it, but I want you to see to it that matters are
kept _in statu quo_, until I come back. Understand? I’ll be gone only
a minute.” And I gracefully lowered myself through the trap, and
went rattling down the many flights of stairs that twist their way up
through the tower’s dusky interior.
By rare good fortune I reached the ground floor without breakage
of bones, and straightway made for the staff-room, where I hastily
rummaged through my desk until I came upon a thin, black volume,
emblazoned with the arms of the State, and inscribed in golden letters,
“Militia Law.” Hastily running over its pages I found what I needed:
and then, turning down the leaf, I thrust the book into my pocket, and
started off for my second ascent into mid-air.
“Here you are, Ken.,” I cried, as I scrambled breathless out upon
the roof. “I’ve brought you a bomb, and you can chuck it over into
Cambridge as soon as you please.”
“You’ve been long enough in getting it,” was his ungracious response.
“It wouldn’t take more than five or six of your ‘minutes’ to make an
hour. Come, trot out your alleged bomb. Time’s precious.”
Withering Kenryck with a single expressive glance, I slowly drew out
my little black book, opened it at the marked place, and said, “It
would be serving you no more than properly, you ungrateful beggar, if
I should draw out of this case altogether, and leave you up the tree!
I may have taken a few seconds over a minute, but I’m willing to give
plump odds that--going and coming--I’ve made a new regimental record in
tower climbing. Well, here’s the medicine for your man Boardman--”
“You must excuse me, old chap,” said Kenryck hurriedly. “I dare
say you tobogganed down on the banisters, and galloped up again on
all-fours--but you certainly seemed a devil of a time in doing it.”
“Chapter three-sixty-seven, section one-nineteen, of the Revised
Statutes,” I began, after receiving this graceful and ample apology,
“would seem to furnish both the authority and the means for the
abatement of this nuisance of which you make complaint. It runneth
thuswise: ‘If any person interrupts or molests or insults, by abusive
words or behavior, or obstructs any officer or soldier while on duty or
at any parade or drill, he may be put immediately under guard and kept
at the discretion of the commanding officer of the detachment until
the duty is concluded: and such commanding officer may turn over such
person to any police officer or constable of the city or town: and said
police officer or constable shall detain him in custody for examination
and trial: and any person found guilty of either of the offences
enumerated in this section shall be punished by imprisonment in the
jail or house of correction not exceeding six months, or by fine not
exceeding one hundred dollars.’”
I flatter myself that I must have read this tangle of clauses with
truly judicial emphasis and solemnity, for--when I came to the end of
it, and demanded, “How’s that?”--Kenryck gave a yell of delight, and
shouted, “Out at the plate, by Jupiter!” And the youth upon the turret
displayed such violent symptoms of joy that I feared lest he should
tumble from his dizzy perch.
“Oh! that’s too good to be true,” gasped Kenryck, after a prolonged
paroxysm of laughter. “It fits like an old glove, too! Well, here goes
for trying it on: I’ll send over the whole blessed section, though
it’ll make an outrageously long message, and order the sergeant to
spout it down at ’em from the tower. Jumping Jonah! _won’t_ it do ’em
up?”
“It’s a beautiful bit of rhetoric,” said I, glancing through the
passage again; “there are just twelve _or’s_ in it--enough to fit out
a ‘varsity eight and two single scullers. But I consider that it will
answer your purpose very cleverly.”
I handed over the book, pointed out the all-powerful section, and sat
down, more than well pleased with my share in the proceedings. Kenryck
explored the interior of his braided blouse, discovered a cigar, and
silently handed it to me--an action which proclaimed more eloquently
than words his deep appreciation of the value of my services.
The transmission of this lengthy quotation from the law of the land
took some little time. My cigar burned slowly on until half its
original bulk had fallen away in ashes before we caught the first
signal in reply to our communication. But the response, when finally it
came, made us speedily forget the time we had spent in awaiting it.
“Stand by to register,” cautioned Kenryck, who for several minutes of
silence had been sharply scanning the far-off tower. I hurriedly drew
out my knife, and put a better point upon my pencil. “There she blows!
Ready are you? Then score up this--
“‘Have quoted law. No go! Boardman says law may be dash-double-blanked,
and men who made it may be blank-double-dashed. Policeman says law
doesn’t concern him: his orders are to arrest on warrant. Big crowd
gathered in street, guying us. Situation something awful. Orcutt in
open mutiny. Will Lieutenant _please_ come?’”
This was sufficiently definite, surely. Kenryck turned and stared
blankly at me. Out of respect for his feelings I refrained from
laughing.
“When you get that message from the hill,” he shouted to the man upon
the turret, “make your acknowledgment signal, and then send over
word that I’m coming. Can you do it alone?” And, upon receiving an
affirmative answer, he made for the trap in the roof and disappeared.
I hastily stuffed the note-book into my pocket, and followed him. Down
the shaking stairs we went, at a neck-or-nothing pace, until we landed
at the bottom. And then Kenryck shot himself into the armorer’s room,
and dropped into the chair before the telephone.
_Br-r-r-r!_ went the little bell. “Hello! Central? Give me Cambridge,
please.” A pause. “This Cambridge? Well, will you give me the chief of
police?” Another and a longer wait. “Hello! You the chief of Cambridge
police? I’m Kenryck--Lieutenant Kenryck--commanding signal corps, third
volunteer brigade. Got that? _Yes!_ Well, I’ve sent a detail over to
Memorial Hall, under duty orders. Now, my men are being interfered with
and insulted by a citizen. There’s a curious sort of mistake.” Here he
put in an elaborate explanation. “But the thing must be stopped, right
away. I make formal complaint to you, under section--wait a second,
please.”
I supplied him with chapter and verse for the text of his discourse,
and he went on, “Under section one-nineteen, chapter three-sixty-seven,
of the statutes. And I want you to take this citizen--_yes_, Boardman’s
his name, but I don’t know the initials--into custody until I can come
over to attend to him. What’s that? You’d like to look up the statute?
All right--only kindly be quick about it.”
Then came a long interval. I ventured to say a word or two, but
Kenryck turned upon me a warning scowl which reduced me at once to
silence. “Hello!” he finally sang out, in answer to some communication
over the wire. “You’ll see that your men take care of him? That’s good.
Thanks! Hope we may be able to do as much for _you_, some day. I’ll be
over later. Good day.”
He hung the receiver upon its hook, rang off, and rose from his seat,
smiling like one who feels conscious of having done a clever thing.
“It’s a poor law,” said he, “that can’t be worked both ways.”
“Yes, the law may be likened unto a double-edgéd sword--and woe upon
them that monkey therewith!” I replied. “And now what?”
“Now we’ll scale the tower again,” announced Kenryck, “to await
developments. And, unless I’m wide in my guess, we’ll find things
running _our_ way when we get our next news from over the river.”
“You’re not going over, then?” I asked.
“No,” said Kenryck very decidedly; “not if I know myself. It would cost
me all of three large dollars--and one can’t draw mileage for that sort
of travelling.” By which I was led to believe that a part, at least,
of my advice had not fallen upon stony ground.
“I shall let the police gather in my man,” he went on, as we panted up
the last steep flight of stairs, “and then, after the siege has been
raised, telephone over that I’ll not press the charge against him.
How’ll that do?”
We climbed out, one after the other, upon the roof. Kenryck in a few
words explained to his signalman what had been done, and then we sat
down to await the final report. It was not a long waiting. In less than
ten minutes the bit of color upon the Cambridge tower began its weird
dance and, signal by signal, industriously sent across to us these
tidings of comfort and joy:
“Patrol wagon just sailed up! Boardman bundled into it, speechless with
rage. Policeman gone, too. Crowd has applauded operations and mostly
dispersed. Orcutt manageable again--and coast clear.”
I shook hands with Kenryck. The youth upon the turret--who, without
waiting for the hill station to repeat, had translated all this for
his own benefit--waved his flag madly ‘round his head, and then hugged
himself with delight. And we all three roared in chorus and loudly.
“We’ll let it go at that,” said Kenryck finally, “and call it a day’s
work. Make your signal for closing stations, Millar, and pack up your
kit. Here,” as he happened to look in my direction, “you can’t have
those!”
“Oh, yes, I can,” said I, folding up and stowing away in my pocket the
two leaves that I had just torn from the note-book. “Of course I can
have ’em. Aren’t they in my own handwriting? And besides, they’ll be
useful--labelled ‘Exhibits _A_ and _B_’--when I’m retained to defend
you against a suit for false imprisonment.”
But the suit has never been brought, and the stolen leaves lie
undisturbed, pasted side by side in the big scrap-book which rests upon
the top of the bookcase, up in The Battery. Ask Sam to hunt them out
for you, when next you happen to find yourself up there.
ONE FROM THE VETERAN.
“Everything’s calm,” said the lieutenant-colonel, “and apparently
liable to stay so. I’ve been through the whole brigade--’way down
to the cavalry quarters, and back through the gunners’ and infantry
camps--and the peacefulness of things reminds me of the old nursery
jingle,
‘And all through the house
Not a creature was stirring,
Not even a mouse.’
Well, this tour of mine’s been an easy one. I’ve been under canvas with
the old brigade for just nineteen rolling years, and so when I say that
this camp walks right away with the trophy for quietness, I’m speaking
by the card.”
“Wouldn’t it be a pious idea if we were to turn in, then?” inquired
the adjutant, adding to his remark a suggestive and very audible yawn.
“Field officers of the day aren’t supposed to sit up all night--at
least, not in time of peace. I’m feeling just a wee bit sleepy myself.”
Midnight had come and gone. The camp lay silent, its snowy tents
looming out dimly in the faint, midsummer starlight. Not a murmur
hinted at the presence of the three thousand sleeping men hidden away
beneath the shimmering whiteness of the canvas. The sleepy sentry
pacing slowly to and fro before regimental headquarters seemed only
a deeper shade in the shadowy picture. His measured tread upon the
dew-dampened turf roused no echo.
There came into view a spectral shape, striding rapidly towards
the quarters of the non-commissioned staff. “Hi!” called the
lieutenant-colonel softly. “_Hi!_ that you, Sam?”
At this challenge the spectre changed its course and approached the
adjutant’s tent, in front of which, and under the protecting fly, the
two officers were sitting. “Yes, it’s me,” answered the voice of the
veteran orderly of The Third. “That you, Col’n’l Wentworth? Anything I
can do for ye?”
“I’d be glad to know why you’re prowling ’round at this time of night,”
said the lieutenant-colonel mildly. “You’re old enough to be setting
the boys a better example.”
“I judge ye’re correct, Col’n’l,” assented Sam, still standing
attention in front of the tent. “I’d oughter be in quarters. But down
in B Comp’ny’s street I run’d onto a feller that was in the war. Now,
them fellers is gittin’ scarcer’n honest men in the city gov’nment, an’
so it follered that we got to yarnin’, give an’ take, turn an’ turn
about, ’til we clean lost track o’ the time.”
It might be well to mention here that Sam is _the_ privileged character
of the Third Infantry. It has been explained elsewhere how Colonel
Elliott discovered the old man enjoying his well-earned _otium cum
dig._ in the Soldiers’ Home, down at Old Point. It also has been told
how, by a risky bit of work, back in ’64, he won the Medal of Honor
which he wears upon the breast of his dress-coat. To be sure, he
guesses, “Bein’ nothin’ but copper, ’taint worth much”--but by the
rest of the Old Regiment it is held at a somewhat higher valuation.
Now, the customs of The Third do not tend to encourage the spinning
of yarns by enlisted men in officers’ quarters, but to this
well-established rule there is one exception. That exception is made
in favor of Sam. And since his webs of fact and fancy are woven, for
the most part, after darkness has descended upon the face of the earth,
the breach of service etiquette is not sufficiently evident to be
demoralizing. All of which is explanatory.
The adjutant stepped back into the depths of his tent, and presently
returned with a fistful of cigars and an extra camp-stool. “Set ye,
Sam,” said he, appropriating one of the veteran’s pet idioms. “Set ye,
and lend a hand at smudging out mosquitoes.”
The old orderly borrowed a light from the lieutenant-colonel, and
seated himself, with his elbows resting upon his knees and his hands
comfortably clasped before him. “I’ve bin a-thinkin’,” said he, “how
this milishy business has changed since I was a boy. Never happened
to see an ol’-fashioned muster, did ye? Nat’rally not. Ah, them was
the days o’ plumes an’ swords, an’ gingerbread an’ rum, an’ _genuine_
patriotism!”
The adjutant, forgetting the darkness, winked at the
lieutenant-colonel. Wentworth rose, stepped outside for a final
survey of the sleeping-camp, and then returned to his place. “There
were giants in those days, eh?” he said, turning up the collar of his
great-coat.
“Yes, ther’ was,” said Sam, impressively, “ther’ was indeed. An’
giant-killers, too. Ol’ Col’n’l Leatherbee was a giant. You’d oughter
seen _him_! Six-foot-two, he was. My land! he was a rare sight when
he was in his milishy togs, with his boots an’ spurs, an’ his buff
breeches, an’ his blue coat with buff facin’s, an’ his flamin’ red
sash, an’ his terruble long sword, an’ his high shako, with the wavin’
plume a-top an’ the soarin’ brass eagle on the front of it.” Sam paused
for lack of breath.
“An’ Maj’r Otis Prouty was another giant,” he continued. “I’ve told
ye how the Maj’r trounced ol’ Col’n’l Leatherbee, up to Lond’nderry
muster. No? Oh, that was a tremenjous battle,” he chuckled softly to
himself, “a tremenjous battle while it lasted.”
“_So?_” queried the adjutant. “Was it the custom for junior
field-officers to thump their chiefs?”