HEALING THE BREACH.
Jed, who had patiently kept guard at the pine tree bridge during all
these exciting events, thought it was about time for him to be relieved
when he saw us preparing for dinner. I went down to see him, paid him
two dollars for his day’s work, and invited him to dine with us. As the
other officers were yet to be elected, I had no fear that any portion
of the battalion--unless it was Tommy Toppleton--would think of such a
thing as abandoning the field. The provision brought from the Institute
were already cooked, so that dinner was soon ready, and was quickly
disposed of.
Tommy Toppleton was moody and sullen. If any one spoke to him, he
answered only in monosyllables. He appeared to be considering the
situation, and making up his mind what to do. No one believed that
he ever had any intention of resigning if elected, or of declining
the nomination if the election was postponed. I do not think that,
even with the assistance of his father and the professors, he could
have secured votes enough to elect him. The majority of us were so
thoroughly disgusted with his tyranny, that we would have broken up the
battalion rather than voted for him. We had accomplished what we had
been laboring for over a year.
After dinner, in order to afford time for the students to prepare for
the election of the rest of the officers,--for there were still some
difficult points to be settled,--the voting was postponed for an hour.
In the mean time, I took my working party, and laid down the bridge
across the chasm near the road. Everything was thus restored to its
former condition; and, so far as any mischief was concerned, no one
would have known that High Bluff had been the camp of a turbulent
battalion.
“Skotchley, I’m not sure but the worst part of the business is yet to
come,” said Major Briscoe, as he seated himself by my side on a rock,
where I was resting after the fatigue of rebuilding the bridge.
“Why, what’s the matter?” I inquired, though I knew that it would be no
easy thing to reconstruct the battalion.
“Our fellows want to elect to the offices only those who have been on
our side. If they do so, the battalion will still be in two pieces,
when we want to unite them.”
“I was afraid of that.”
“It won’t do. The other side say, if they are left out in the cold,
they shall form a new company, and go off on their own hook.”
“I suppose they had just as much right to go in for Tommy as we had to
go in for you,” I suggested.
“I want to give them all fair play,” said Briscoe, warmly.
“Good! So do I.”
“What can we do with Tommy?”
“I don’t know. He is as savage as a meat-axe. There he sits on a rock,
all by himself. I suppose he is brooding vengeance.”
“We can be fair with him, and I’m in favor of being so. I suppose you
are entitled to the second office, Skotchley.”
“Never mind me. I don’t care a fig for any office.”
“I know you don’t; but the fellows care for you. I was thinking that,
if Tommy was willing we might make him senior captain.”
“Offer the place to him, by all means.”
“You are generous, Skotchley. Of course you can do as you please about
stepping aside for him.”
“Upon my word, Briscoe, I would rather not be in the line of promotion.”
“Don’t talk about that. I don’t think Tommy will take the place, but I
would like to offer it to him.”
“Do so, by all means.”
“Will you and Faxon see him?”
“I will, for one.”
Faxon was called and he consented to accompany me on my mission to the
late major. It was plain enough that he had not yet made up his mind
what to do.
“I’m sorry you don’t feel right about what has happened to-day,” I
began, as we halted before the little magnate.
“I feel right enough,” replied he, looking up, and trying to smile.
“But I don’t think the fellows will make anything by what they have
done.”
“Something has been said about electing you senior captain.”
“Senior captain!” sneered Tommy. “Do you think I would take a lower
place than the one I have filled?”
“If you will take it, or any other place, we will do what we can to
elect you.”
“I don’t want any place. I don’t think I shall belong to the battalion
any longer. The fellows have been mean to me, after all I have done
for them. You and Briscoe stirred this thing up, Skotchley,” he added,
bitterly.
“I did what I thought was right.”
“Did you think it was right to tip me out?”
“I did,” I replied, firmly.
“That’s the way my friends treat me--or those who ought to be my
friends.”
“The friendship can’t be all on one side. To be candid, you have not
treated the fellows well.”
“What have I done?”
“You have been tyrannical and overbearing. You have tried to make your
will law, without caring what others wanted.”
“Humph! You learned that of Wolf Penniman.”
“I don’t want to say anything unpleasant now,” I added. “If I can do
anything for you, I am willing to do it.”
“You can’t do anything for me.”
“I only wanted to say that I had no ill feelings towards you; and I
don’t think the rest of the fellows have.”
“I should think they had. All that has been done to-day will be set
aside as soon as you return to Middleport. Do you think my father will
let me be insulted in this manner?”
“The fellows had a right to vote as they pleased,” suggested Faxon.
“Of course they had; and they may take the consequences.”
“Then there is no place in the battalion that you would like.”
“No!”
Tommy’s case was settled, and I reported the result to Briscoe.
“I suppose Tommy’s father will be mad when he learns what has happened;
but we must take our chances,” replied the major. “Tommy was in the
wrong, and we have switched him off. Whenever he will make a good
fellow of himself, I shall be happy to resign my office in his favor.”
Briscoe and myself then discussed the candidates for the other offices.
Both of us desired to divide them fairly among the two parties, so as
to heal all differences, and make the battalion a unit in sentiment.
“There’s a difficulty in the way,” said Briscoe. “We have two first
lieutenants--Faxon and Haven. If we make Faxon captain of Company B,
it will jump him over Haven, who is his senior. If we make Haven the
captain, it will be treating one of our own fellows shabbily.”
“Let me solve the difficulty for you. Make them both captains, and let
me be the quartermaster,” I interposed.
“O, no!”
“I insist,” I added. “The place will suit me best.”
“But the fellows won’t consent.”
“I will see to that.”
After a long talk, I persuaded the major to let me have my own way.
I preferred the position of quartermaster, for I had no military
aspirations. It was agreed that we would run Haven for senior captain
and Faxon for junior. This was even magnanimous on the part of our
side. We agreed upon Lennox and Bowles for first, and Hacker and
Crampton for second lieutenants. Barnscott was set aside, for he had
in turn sold out both sides, and neither party had any confidence in
him. He was anxious to be a captain, and had trimmed his course to
accomplish his end; and, like others who are true to nothing, he failed
in everything.
We wrote tickets with these nominations upon them. They were readily
accepted, and I was pleased to see that the Tommyites were entirely
satisfied. The polls were opened again, and the ticket was indorsed
by a large majority. Barnscott protested, engineered, log-rolled,
and lobbied; but he failed to defeat the arrangement. As soon as
the voting was finished, the battalion was formed in line. The
shoulder-straps were exchanged to suit the new rank of the several
officers. Tommy still sat on the rock, watching the proceedings. As
I passed near him, he beckoned to me, and requested me to deliver
his shoulder-straps to Briscoe, which I did. So far as I could see,
every one was satisfied except Barnscott, who had been appointed
sergeant-major. He accepted the position, but with very ill grace.
The major then made a little speech to the battalion in regard to
the prize drill. His remarks were received with applause; and, when
he directed the companies to separate, for the purpose of practising
the manual, I was pleased to see that an excellent spirit prevailed
throughout the corps. As I had no duties to perform in connection with
the drill, I went over to our camp on the other side of the gully,
to look after the stores there. While I was gathering them together
in readiness to be loaded upon the wagons, I saw Tommy walk up the
road. He did not seem to be going anywhere, for he had not taken his
pony. He was apparently still brooding over his imaginary wrongs,
and I wondered that he did not ride back to Middleport to report the
wickedness of the battalion to his father.
While I was gathering up the stores, Jed came over on the log of
the pine tree. He had witnessed the deposition of his enemy, and he
appeared to be satisfied with the result. He remarked good-naturedly,
that we had “fixed that Toppleton boy,” and he hoped it would be a good
lesson for him. If there was nothing more he could do for us, he would
go home, though he had done a good day’s work, and made more than he
could by staying at the farm.
Unhitching the old mare, he started for home. I heard his wagon
rattling along the road for a few minutes, and then forgot all about
him. I finished my work, and was about to return to the bluff by the
way of the pine tree when I was startled by a loud cry at some distance
from me, down the road.
I paused and listened again. The cry was repeated, and I recognized the
voice as that of Tommy Toppleton. The explanation was clear enough to
me in an instant. The little magnate had encountered Jed on the road,
and the latter was punishing him for his conduct on the preceding day.
Certainly Tommy was faring hard, and misfortunes did not come singly to
him.