TO OBEY, OR NOT TO OBEY.
I think our brave fellows were more frightened than hurt; for if the
water in the wash-boiler was hot, it was not in condition to scald
them after it had passed through the cold syringe. Some of them were
a little red in spots on the face and hands; but as warriors, in
this piping time of peace, they had not been above dodging, and in
consequence, none of them were seriously damaged. Without using the
obnoxious first line of the old couplet, they were in condition to
fight another day.
The battle was certainly a very humorous one, Jed, in spite of his
arduous labors was convulsed with laughter. Clarissa, the pretty girl,
was now very rosy, but whether from her exertions with the dipper or
with laughing, I was unable to determine. The old farmer and his wife
were both in excellent humor; and it was plain enough that we were to
be laughed out of the battle, if we were not actually driven off the
field. The mutinous troops who had refused to take part in the action
were quite as much amused as the people of the farm.
Major Tommy Toppleton retreated before his routed column, which
followed him down the road a short distance. The savage assailants did
not offer to pursue their discomfited foe, and I had no doubt that the
commander would call a council of war among his friends. I did not
expect him to renew the attack under the present circumstances, or, at
least, not till the water in the boiler had cooled off. Jed and his
father, however, carried the kettle into the house, either to enable
the old lady to continue her Monday morning operations, or to keep the
water hot for another emergency, or possibly for both.
“Well, Ned, what is going to be the end of all this?” said Briscoe,
walking up to me after the storm of battle had subsided.
“I don’t know,” I replied. “We must wait and see what Tommy does. Of
course we are ready to obey any reasonable orders.”
“I am not exactly sure of that, after what has happened. Suppose the
major wishes us to march back to Middleport. Shall we go?”
“I suppose we must,” I replied rather dubiously. “As both of us happen
to be suspended just now, I conclude that we have nothing more to do
with this business.”
We sheathed our swords by mutual consent, and seated ourselves on the
fence at the side of the road to wait for the “moving of the waters.”
“What are we to do?” asked Crampton, one of the privates in my company.
“I’m sure I don’t know,” I answered, laughing. “I am willing to obey
all reasonable orders, and I suppose you ought to do the same.”
“We are ready to stand by you,” added Dunbold, a corporal of the first
company.
“We have the majority,” said Sergeant Langdon, suggestively.
“We don’t want to make a row yet,” continued Crampton. “There will
be one about to-morrow noon, when we vote for officers. You know the
balloting is to come off then. It can only be postponed by a vote of
the battalion.”
“I am suspended from duty, and of course, I haven’t anything to say,” I
added.
“That’s just my case,” said Briscoe. “I would rather keep quiet till
after the election.”
It was evident to me that we were on the very verge of the
long-expected mutiny. The president of the Lake Shore Railroad Company,
and the major of the battalion had ruled us with a rod of iron. We had
borne it longer than we intended; and the present occasion, when we
were beyond the reach of outside influences, seemed to be favorable for
the final settlement of the matter. As students, we were the equals, in
every respect, of Tommy Toppleton, and we were determined to make him
treat us like gentlemen.
While Briscoe and myself were discussing the situation, Sergeant
Hacker, one of the major’s adherents, advanced towards us. He looked
as though he had come upon a desperate mission, for his lips were
compressed, his eyebrows knit, and his step very decided.
“Captain Briscoe.”
“Sergeant Hacker.”
“Major Toppleton orders you to march your company down the road,”
continued the messenger, pointing to the place where Tommy had halted.
“All right! I will do so,” replied Briscoe.
The captain of the first company gave his orders, and his command
moved off, leaving my company and the band opposite the house. Hacker
returned to the major, but immediately appeared again with an order
for me to join the main body with the mutinous portion of my company.
Tommy looked wrathful and disgusted, as he always did when he had been
thwarted in his purposes.
“I am glad that you have concluded to obey orders,” said he, with an
obvious sneer in his tone and manner, as I saluted him, after halting
my company.
“I shall always be ready to obey any reasonable order,” I replied,
respectfully.
“Reasonable!” exclaimed he. “What do you mean by reasonable?”
“Involving anything which it is proper for the battalion to do,” I
replied.
“Who is to determine whether it is proper or not?” demanded Tommy.
“I should say that you were, in the first place, before you gave the
order,” I answered, careful not to provoke his anger.
“I should say there was a mutiny in the line,” added the major. “I
don’t want to argue the matter now. When I give an order, I intend to
be obeyed, whether you consider it reasonable or not.”
I made no reply, and the little major looked as pompous as though the
question had been forever settled. I thought we could all afford to
wait until the next day at noon, when the election was to take place:
for it was a sure thing, if the balloting was fairly conducted, that
Tommy would be ousted from his position and Briscoe elected in his
place. The matter, so far as the chief command was concerned, was
settled, and the only question which had not yet been determined was
whether or not Tommy should be elected to some other office.
Jed, his father, and Clarissa had taken position in the middle of
the road, where they could observe the movements of the battalion.
They were evidently willing that we should continue our march, and I
hoped Tommy would be sensible enough to adopt this course though it
was expecting rather too much of him to permit his enemy to remain
unpunished for a single day. He wheeled the battalion into line, and
capered the sorrel pony along a couple of times in front, glancing
fiercely from his warriors to the enemy before the house, apparently
doubtful in regard to his next move. Finally he halted and it was
evident that he intended to make a speech.
“Fellows, I have been insulted!” said he, savagely. “Shall it be said
that the whole battalion was beaten back by two men and two women?”
“The whole battalion was not beaten back,” retorted Corporal Dunbold.
“Silence in the ranks!” exclaimed the major. “Will you stand by me, or
not?”
“We will!” shouted Tommy’s adherents; but the rest of the line said
nothing.
“I thought you would. I was not willing to believe that my fellows
would desert me when I wanted them most. I’m going to give that Jed a
mauling; if I don’t, there will be some bones broken somewhere.”
Tommy was rapidly lashing himself into a fury, and would soon be
in condition to undertake a desperate enterprise. I do not think he
would face the hot water again; but the foe still stood in the road,
seemingly unconscious of peril, and the sight of them was raising the
major’s blood to the boiling point. What could he do? Being only a boy
myself, though I claimed to be a gentleman at the same time, I was
curious to see issue of the adventure, while I was firmly resolved to
take no part in it, even if I was court-martialed, and dismissed from
the service for disobedience.
Ever since the battle on the Horse Shoe, Tommy had been in favor of
flank movements. Wolf Penniman, though no soldier, had taught him a
lesson in tactics which he had not learned before. In fact, Wolf seemed
to have the tact to manage almost any difficult case. I saw the major
survey the locality of the barn in the rear of the house, and the
fields adjoining. I had no doubt he was planning a diversion.
“Captain Scotchley, you will march your company through this field to
the rear of the barn, and there await further orders,” said Tommy,
addressing me, with a flourish of his sword to point out the lots
through which I was to pass.
The field indicated was green with new wheat, and to march through it
would be to inflict serious injury upon the farmer. I at once came to
the conclusion that the order was an unreasonable one.
“That is a wheat field, Major Toppleton,” I mildly suggested, though I
knew very well that my remark would have no weight with the headstrong
young magnate.
“What of it?” demanded he.
“Marching through that field will damage the wheat.”
“I don’t care if it does! It belongs to this old farmer, whose son
insulted me. He takes his son’s part, and he must also bear the
consequences.”
“But he can prosecute you in the court for trespass, and make you pay
the damage.”
“I don’t care for the damage. I’m going to be even with that fellow
before I leave this place.”
“I would rather not take part in doing this mischief,” I replied.
“I suppose you mean to say that my order is an unreasonable one.”
“I did not put it in just that form, but that is what I mean.”
“I suspended you once, Captain Skotchley.”
“I am aware that you did.”
“As you obeyed my next order, I was going to let it pass, and say
nothing more about it,” said Tommy, biting his lips.
“I will obey any and every order which comes within the line of my
duty.”
“A soldier should obey his superior without any question,” retorted the
major.
“Not always,” I replied.
“Yes, always!” exclaimed Tommy, fiercely.
“Suppose the colonel of the regiment, in a time of peace, should order
one of his captains to shoot ten men of his company,” I suggested,
calling up a supposition which had been used in the lecture-room of the
Institute.
“That is not a supposable case.”
“The colonel might be attacked with sudden insanity.”
“Do you mean to say I am insane?”
“I did not say anything of the kind. Our lecturer on military tactics
was willing to grant that there could be instances when the inferior
was not bound to obey the superior--nay, where it was his duty to
disobey him.”
“If there are such cases, this is not one of them,” growled Tommy.
“I think it is. The battalion is out upon a tour of camp duty, and
in everything relating to that I will obey orders. But I won’t have
anything to do with avenging fancied insults.”
“Then you think that pulling me off my horse, and pitching me into the
dirt, is only a fancied insult?” sneered Tommy.
“That was only part of the affair,” I replied. “You ought to prosecute
the man in court. You have no right to take the law into your own
hands.”
“Shut up!” snapped Tommy, as he rode away from me in disgust.