MUTINY IN THE CAMP.
Hugh John was holding his court under the weeping-elm, and was being
visited in detail by his army. The Carters had come over, and, after a
vigorous engagement and pursuit, he had even forgiven Sammy for his
lack of hardihood in not resisting to the death at the great battle of
the Black Sheds.
"But it hurts so confoundedly," argued Sammy; "if it didn't, I
shouldn't mind getting killed a bit!"
"Look at me," said Hugh John; "I'm all over peels and I don't
complain."
"Oh! I dare say--it's all very well for you," retorted Sammy, "you
like to fight, and it was you that began the fuss, but I only fight
because you'd jolly-well-hammer me if I didn't!"
"Course I would," agreed his officer, "don't you know that's what
generals are for?"
"Well," concluded Sammy Carter, summing the matter up philosophically,
"'tain't my castle anyway."
* * * * *
The review was over. In the safe quiet of the elm-tree shelter General
Napoleon might have been seen taking his well-earned repose. He was
surrounded by his entire following--except, of course, the two
Generals of Division, who were engaged in sweeping out the
stable-yard. But these were considered socially supernumerary at any
rate, except (a somewhat important exception) when there was fighting
to be done.
"I don't see that we've done so very much to make a brag about
anyhow," began Sammy Carter.
General Smith dexterously caught him on the ear with a young turnip,
which in company with several friends had wandered in of its own
accord from the nearest field on the home farm.
"I should say _you_ didn't do much!" he sneered pointedly; "you hooked
it as hard as you could after the first skirmish. Why, you haven't got
a single sore place about you to show for it."
"Yes, I have!" retorted Sammy in high indignation.
[Illustration: "SAMMY CARTER MUTINOUS."]
"Well, let's see it then!" commanded his general in a kindlier tone.
"Can't--ladies present!" said Sammy succinctly, into the retreating
rear-guard of whose division the triumphant enemy had charged with the
pike snatched from his sister's hands.
"All _my_ wounds are in front. _I_ fought and died with my face to the
foe!" said Hugh John in his noblest manner.
"And I d'livered Donald!" contributed Toady Lion complacently.
"Oh, _that_ ain't anything," sneered Sammy Carter, who was not in a
good humour. His tone roused General Napoleon, who had the strong
family feelings of all the Buonapartes.
"Shut up, Sammy, or I'll come and kick you. None of us did anything
except Toady Lion. You ran away, and I got taken prisoner. Toady Lion
is the only man among us!"
"I runned away too--at first," confessed the candid Toady Lion, who
felt that he had so much real credit that he did not need to take a
grain more than he deserved. "But I comed back quick--and I d'livered
Donald out of prison, anyway--I did!"
Sammy Carter evidently had a sharp retort ready on the tip of his
tongue, but he knew well the price he would have to pay for uttering
it. Hugh John's eye was upon him, his right hand was closing on a
bigger turnip--so Sammy forbore. But he kicked his feet more
discontentedly than ever into the turf.
"Well," he said, changing the venue of the argument, "I don't think
much of your old castle anyway. My father could have twice as good a
castle if he liked----"
"Oh, 'course he could"--Hugh John's voice was distinctly ironical--"he
might plant it on a peaty soil, and grow it from seed in two years; or
perhaps he would like a cutting off ours!"
Mr. Davenant Carter was a distinguished agriculturist and florist.
"Don't you speak against my father!" cried Sammy Carter, glowering at
General Napoleon in a way in which privates do not often look at their
Commanders-in-Chief.
"Who's touching your father?" the latter said, a little more
soothingly. "See here, Sammy, you've got your coat on wrong side out
to-day. Go home and sleep on it. 'Tisn't my fault if you did run away,
and got home before your sister--with a blue place on your back."
Sammy Carter flung out from under the shelter of the elm and went in
search of Prissy, from whom in all his moods he was sure of comfort
and understanding. He was a somewhat delicate boy, and generally
speaking hated quarrelling as much as she did; but he had a clever
tongue, which often brought him into trouble, and, like most other
humorists, he did not at all relish a jest at his own expense.
As he went, he was pursued and stung by the brutally unrefined taunts
of Hugh John.
"Yes, go on to Prissy; I think she has a spare doll. Go and play at
'house'! It's all you're good for!"
Thus encouraged by their general, the rest of the company--that is,
Cissy and Sir Toady Lion, joined in singing a certain stirring and
irritating refrain popular among the youth of Bordershire.
"_Lassie-boy, lassie-boy, fie for shame!
Coward's your nature, and Jennie's your name!_"
Sammy Carter stood poised for flight with his eyes blazing with anger.
"You think a lot of your old tumble-down castle; but the town boys
have got it in spite of you; and what's more, they've a flag flying on
it with 'Down with Smith!' on it. I saw it. Hooray for the town boys!"
And with this Parthian arrow he disappeared at full speed down the
avenue.
For a moment Hugh John was paralysed. He tried to pooh-pooh the
matter, but he could not but admit that it might very well be true; so
he instantly despatched Toady Lion for Prissy, who, as we know, was
the fleetest runner of them all. Upon her reporting for duty, the
General sent her to bring back word if the state of affairs was as
reported.
It was. A large red flag was flying, with the inscription in white
upon it, "Down with Smith!" while above the inscription there was what
looked like a rude attempt at a death's head and crossbones. Hugh John
knew this ensign in a moment. Once upon a time, in his wild youth, he
had served under it as a pirate on the high seas; but of this he now
uttered no word.
* * * * *
It was in such moments that the true qualities of the born leader came
out in General Napoleon Smith. Instantly he dismissed his attendants,
put his finger to his forehead, and sat down to draw a map of the
campaign in the genuine Napoleonic manner.
At last, after quite a while, he rapped upon the table.
"I have it," he cried, "we must find an ally." The problem was
solved.