TOMMY YIELDS A POINT.
The situation was not favorable to the success of Tommy’s project.
Briscoe and I had moved our companies with so much celerity that we had
the “inside track.” The major himself and his adherents appeared to
be in a measure paralyzed by our sudden operations; and we had placed
our men between the assailants and the objects of their ire. We were
fully determined to prevent any further trespass upon the premises of
the farmer. I must repeat, too, that all the better portion of the
battalion were in our ranks; for it will readily be understood that
Tommy’s force consisted only of his toadies,--in short, of those who
had not pluck enough to array themselves in opposition to the little
major’s tyranny.
We did not expect to be called upon to fight those who still adhered
to Tommy’s cause. We knew they had not the courage to attack us
in earnest. For my own part, I intended simply to head them off if
they attempted to enter the farmer’s garden again. We were superior
in numbers, as we were in spirit; and we could have closed with our
opponents, man for man, taken them in our arms, and borne them away
from the field of strife.
Jed had come out to the house to see what was going on there, when the
marauders abandoned the field of wheat. The old man still remained
there. Jed was not in good humor, and, as he approached the place where
my command was posted, he manifested a disposition to break things, and
I was not sure that he would not pitch into us, not comprehending the
nature of the combination in his favor. The women still stood by their
wash-boiler, in battle array.
“Now you can make tracks!” shouted Jed, as he approached me, with
clinched fists, and a wrathful expression on his red face.
“I should like to speak to you a moment, if you please,” I began, in a
respectful way.
“I don’t want any talk with you! You’ve done mischief enough and
somebody’s got to pay for it. If you don’t travel pretty soon there’ll
be some bones broken round here.”
“I have done the best I could to save you from trouble, Jed. I have
placed my men here to prevent any of the fellows from coming into your
grounds.”
“Is that so?” asked Jed, opening his eyes.
“You saw that the greater part of the battalion refused to attack you.”
“Well, I did see that some of them hung back.”
“More than half of them. Briscoe, down there, will not let any one into
your wheat field, and I will keep them out of your garden.”
“I wish you had begun sooner, then.”
“We didn’t know what the major meant to do till he did it.”
“I’m going to cowhide that major.”
“I wouldn’t attempt to do anything of the kind,” I continued. “He is
the son of Major Toppleton, of Middleport. His father will pay for the
damage his son has done, if you let the matter rest where it is.”
“No, sir! I won’t do it! I will take it out of his hide. You haven’t
any right to go marching about the country scaring horses. I’m going
to wallop that young cub, and teach him manners.”
“We did the best we could to stop the band, and we did stop it for a
time, till we thought you had the colt where you could handle him,” I
explained.
“I don’t find any fault with you, if you have done this; but that
little popinjay on the pony don’t get off without a thrashing, if I’m
able to give him one; and I reckon I can lick the whole crowd of these
boys.”
“I advise you to keep quiet, make up your damages, and send the bill to
Major Toppleton.”
“No; I’m going to thrash that young cub,” added Jed.
“We can’t stand by and let you whip our chief officer. We will keep him
from doing you any further damage: but you must let him alone.”
“I don’t know about that,” said Jed, shaking his head.
By this time, the old farmer, seeing that no further mischief was
likely to be done to the wheat field, came up to the house. He and Jed
talked together; and the latter, perhaps counselled to do so by his
father, refrained from his threatened attack upon Tommy. Everything
was quiet along the line. Our intervention seemed to be an entire
success. Tommy was in a quandary, and was holding a consultation
with Haven, his right hand man, on the other side of the street. The
situation looked trying and difficult to him, without any doubt, and
his principal adviser seemed to be unable to afford him any relief.
They were discussing the matter very earnestly, and there appeared to
be some difference of opinion between them. I judged that Tommy wanted
to fight it out on that line, while Haven was disposed to defer the
final settlement to a more fitting season.
We waited patiently for the result of this interview, though Faxon, the
first lieutenant of Company B, agreed with me that there was little
danger of the renewal of the conflict. When we were getting a little
tired of the delay, a messenger came to me, and said that Lieutenant
Haven desired to confer with Briscoe and myself. I was willing to meet
him, and was curious to know what he had to say; but the captain of the
first company refused to leave his command unless Barnscott’s force was
ordered away from the vicinity of the wheat field.
In answer to this objection Tommy graciously ordered the detachment of
Barnscott to join that of Haven, which was posted near me. I was not
quite satisfied with this arrangement, for it placed a force of sixty
in a situation to charge upon me the instant negotiations failed. I
therefore requested Briscoe to place his command within supporting
distance of me, which he did. Jed and his father had seated themselves
on a log before the house, and appeared to be watching the proceedings
with curiosity and interest.
Briscoe and I met Haven in the middle of the road, between the two
divisions of the battalion where each could repair to his command if
there was any alarm. Tommy sat upon his horse at a little distance from
the spot, looking glum and dissatisfied. I was rather surprised that he
took the matter so tamely. I concluded that Haven, who was an adroit
and cunning fellow, had some plan of his own which he intended to carry
out. Probably the approaching election had some influence with both of
them.
“I am directed by Major Toppleton to confer with you in regard to your
intentions,” said Haven, looking from Briscoe to me.
“We have sufficiently indicated our intentions already, I think,”
replied Briscoe. “We did not come out on this trip for the purpose of
injuring the property of the farmer’s. After Major Toppleton’s blazing
speech this morning about behaving like gentlemen, we didn’t expect to
see him making war upon wheat fields and gardens.”
“If you think it is all right for a clown to pull the major from his
horse, and pitch him into the dirt, you are welcome to your opinion. I
don’t think so,” retorted Haven. “I’m willing to stand by my commander
when he is abused, and I don’t think much of any fellow who isn’t.”
“You are as welcome to your opinion as I am to mine. The major was
wrong from the beginning.”
“We won’t talk about that,” added Haven with a sneer. “I only want to
know what you are going to do.”
“We are going to do what we think is right.”
“What do you think is right?” inquired the ambassador. “Do you think it
is right to get up a mutiny in the battalion?”
“I do, when the commanding officer so far forgets himself as to
trespass upon private property,” replied Briscoe.
“Major Toppleton proposes to march back to Middleport,” added Haven,
evidently thinking this threat would bring us back to our senses.
“Very well,” answered Briscoe.
“Do you intend to obey an order to that effect?” demanded the messenger.
Briscoe looked at me as if he was in doubt. I was certainly undecided.
“I am not prepared to answer that question without consulting others,”
replied the senior captain, choosing the safe course.
“We will obey an order to march in the direction of Hitaca,” I
interposed. “When Major Toppleton comes back to his duty, we will obey
him in all things as usual; but we will not be used in trampling down
anybody’s garden.”
“I agree entirely with Captain Skotchley,” said Briscoe.
“You seem to have taken the affairs of the battalion wholly into your
own hands,” sneered Haven.
“I haven’t anything further to say,” replied Briscoe, with dignity.
“I will report what you say to Major Toppleton,” said the messenger,
sourly, as he turned and walked away to the spot where Tommy was
impatiently waiting the result of the parley.
The report of the ambassador was not likely to be satisfactory to
the major. We were soon able to see that it was not so. A long and
earnest discussion between Tommy and his right-hand man ensued. Haven
was evidently counselling that discretion which is the better part of
valor, or there could have been no difference of opinion between them.
It was hard for the little magnate to yield a point even for a time.
His own friends would not be willing to abandon the tour of camp duty.
“What do you think he will do?” asked Briscoe.
“I don’t know; but I am certain that you and I must be punished for
what we have done,” I replied.
“I don’t intend to be punished,” added Briscoe. “We have the majority
on our side, and we can have it all our own way if we choose.”
“I am in favor of obeying orders when they are proper.”
“So am I.”
“Here comes Haven again. I suppose something more is to be said,” I
continued, as the messenger again advanced towards us.
The lieutenant came up to us, and saluted in military form. I sincerely
hoped that he had a message of peace.
“Major Toppleton directs me to say that he is entirely dissatisfied
with your proceedings,” Haven began. “He says that he shall hold
the two captains responsible for their own disobedience, and for
encouraging mutiny on the part of the men. He is unwilling to
disappoint those who have faithfully obeyed his orders, or he would
march the battalion back to Middleport. He desires to have it
understood that his present action will not save the offenders from
future trial and punishment. At his own convenience he will order a
court martial.”
Briscoe smiled, and so did I, as Tommy’s favorite idea came up to the
surface again. We were to be the victims of a court martial, after all!
Haven saluted again, turned squarely on his heel, and walked back to
the major’s position.