THE SHAM BATTLE.
Such half-formed resolutions, good or bad, as those which had troubled
Alec that night were naturally lost sight of in the stirring events of
the next three days. Like the others in the signal corps, he was
absorbed in the work assigned to them: surveying the countryside,
working with the linemen who were sent on ahead to lay wires, sending
and receiving telegraphic and signal messages concerning the movements
of “the enemy.” It was a wonderful experience for the eight young
scouts, and they entered into it with a will and with credit to
themselves for their part in the general scheme.
Lieutenant Denmead was proud of them and delighted at the success of his
idea in forming the corps.
Friday came all too soon, in spite of the fact that the eagerly awaited
battle was to be fought on the morrow. When the Blues pitched camp that
evening, they had advanced several miles into the territory supposed to
be defended by the Red Army, and they found themselves in a rather
advantageous position.
The Blues had selected their position with care. Two roads, one a
highway, the other the logging road which skirted the Walsh farm,
approached the town of Oakvale like the two halves of a wishbone, the
best position being at the meeting point. Thus the Blues were so placed
that the men were able to see down the valley and to cover the advance
of the Reds whichever way they came.
When the camp was quiet and no sounds could be heard except the measured
tread of a sentry going his rounds, Hugh, being warm and dusty after the
day’s skirmishing and marching, longed to go for a dip in the nearby
stream. The longing grew upon him to such a degree that he rose from his
cot and stole forth beyond the picket line, going straight toward the
place where the stream formed a deep and narrow pool between some rocks.
The night was warm for that season, and a crescent moon hung low in the
heavens, only a little way above the tops of the tallest trees. Hugh
found the light sufficient to guide him through the wood, and, reaching
the pool, he shed his garments, and plunged in.
For a few minutes he swam lazily to and fro; then, all of a sudden he
was startled by hearing a splash near him and a sound of spluttering, as
someone else took the plunge. The next moment a head appeared above the
inky ripples of the pool and with a vigorous shake came swimming toward
him, the body to which it belonged being propelled swiftly and silently
through the water.
“Is that you, Sam?” whispered Hugh.
“Yes. How did you know?”
“I recognized your crawl stroke, Sam; there isn’t one to beat it in
Pioneer Camp.”
“I guessed where you were going, old man, and followed you here. Isn’t
this great! Gee! I wish we could get up a set of swimming matches at
night when we go back to camp.”
“What a crazy idea! The Chief wouldn’t consider it for a moment; it’s
too dangerous.”
“’Spose it is,” admitted Sam. “I was only thinking what fun this is, and
not of——Say, Hugh, did you hear footsteps just now?”
“I thought I did, but wasn’t sure. Listen.”
Floating easily on their backs, the two lads lay motionless in the water
under the overhanging rock, and strained their ears to catch a
suspicious sound. To their intense surprise, a man’s voice broke the
silence.
“Captain Groome’s division is just beyond here,” it said softly. “He
intends to meet your colonel half a mile beyond the intersection of two
trails in the wood, at the rear of the Blue camp, and advance upon them
from that point, early to-morrow morning. The Blues have no idea that
we’re so close to them.”
“They’re looking for us down the valley,” responded a deeper voice.
“Thanks for the information, sir. I’ll go back now and report it at once
to the colonel.”
“And so will we, Sam!” added Hugh, in an excited whisper, when the
unknown speakers had returned whence they had come. “Do you know what
this means? Why, we’ve overheard two Red officers confiding plans for an
attack on us to-morrow!”
“Sure this war game hasn’t turned your head, Hugh?”
“Of course it hasn’t! Didn’t you hear them with your own ears?”
“Yes, but I couldn’t make much sense out of what they were saying.”
“No matter; it’s important, all the same. The thing that puzzled me was:
Why did they choose this spot so near our lines for their meeting just
now?”
“Perhaps they couldn’t arrange for a safer place.”
“Come on, Sam, let’s go back. We’ve got to tell what we’ve just
learned.”
A few strokes carried them to the edge of the pool; they scrambled out,
dressed hastily, and hurried to the tent where Lieutenant Denmead was
sleeping.
“Hate to wake you up, sir,” said Hugh, when they entered.
“But we’ve got most important news!” supplemented Sam, forgetting his
previous scoffing at the war game.
“Let’s hear it, boys,” said Denmead, sitting up attentively.
They told him, not hesitating to confess their breach of discipline in
stealing out of camp for a swim. When they had finished, the Scout
Master smiled.
“The importance of the news excuses the offense—this once,” he said
grimly. “Go back to your cots and get a few hours of good sound sleep in
preparation for the work cut out for you to-morrow. But report this plan
to Major Brookfield, the first thing you do. I’ll go with you now.”
* * * * * * * *
In the gray light of Saturday morning the “battle” began, with a rush of
two troops of Red infantry upon the camp of the Blues.
The ground surrounding the camp was very uneven, and the advance of the
Reds was impeded by thick bushes, trailing vines, and slippery stones
embedded in the soil. Through these vines and thorny bushes the Reds
fought their way, falling, stumbling, wet with perspiration, panting for
breath, but obeying their colonel’s commands instantly,—only to be met
by an alert and determined resistance on the part of the Blue Army.
The Blues disproved all that had been said in criticism of them when the
maneuvers were first organized. They observed perfect discipline and
acted with coolness and intelligence. Indeed, thanks to the information
Hugh and Sam had been enabled to bring, they gave the attacking forces
the greatest surprise of the whole “campaign,” by receiving them fully
prepared and with a decimating fire of blank cartridges, under which,
according to military tactics, the Reds might reasonably have retreated.
But they did not retreat. Instead, there was a steady, bold, cool
advance, as the Reds poured out of the woods like a swarm of angry bees.
Although surprised by the number of the Reds, the Blues drove back one
attack and successfully foiled another by sending a company to block the
march of Red reinforcements up the valley. Not for one minute during the
next two hours did the strain slacken, nor did the officers on either
side call a halt. The action, both in the vicinity of the camp and
further down in the valley, was fast and incessant, as at a good
football game. The conduct of all the men in the “fight” was worthy of
the highest praise.
It was when “the tide of battle” was at the full that Hugh and Alec, who
had been sent to a lookout high up on the side of the hill, observed
that no more Reds were coming from the valley along either road of the
wishbone, and that the company of Blues who had gone out to check their
advance were returning, triumphant.
By means of their semaphore flags, they signaled this news down to the
other scouts, as well as to the regular signal men of the Blue Army,
with the result that a new movement was decided upon:
The Blues made an unexpected sortie from their position, and prepared to
charge the Reds.
In front of the border of woods were a hundred yards or so of open
ground covered with high grass. At the edge of this grass, the Colonel
commanding the Reds ordered the line to cease firing, drop, and wait for
some movement on the part of the enemy.
They had not long to wait. Major Brookfield ordered his lines to charge
across, and the Blue men did so under a heavy but ineffectual fire from
the Reds. It looked like a skirmish line thrown out in advance of a
regiment.
The Reds could not believe that so few men would advance with such
confidence unless they momentarily expected large reinforcements, so,
without attempting to stop them, they turned and ran. As their fire
slackened, those who were returning from the valley saw them retreating,
and the men in blue cheered—a long, derisive, parting cheer.
This charge ended the fight and won the day for the Blues.
* * * * * * * *
“Where are Hugh Hardin and Alec Sands?” inquired Denmead, a few hours
later, when the divided armies had returned to their common camp on
Oakvale meadows. “Hasn’t anyone seen them in camp?”
“No, sir,” replied Walter, giving the scout salute.
“Do they know we’re going back to our own camp to-day, by automobile as
far as the railroad station nearest camp?”
“Yes, sir, they know it; but they haven’t showed up yet.”
“Can anything have happened to them, do you think, Chief?” queried Sam
Winter.
“I should hardly suppose so. They may be lost in the woods; but, in that
case, each one is capable of finding his way to Rainbow Lake, and thence
to Pioneer Camp. However, if we don’t see them or receive any message
from them before we start, I’ll send out a search-party, and we’ll make
the trip home on foot, to see if we can find them.”