"That's a fact," soliloquized Goble, chuckling to himself. "But a two-legged hog like me can eat an' wear the things it will buy. Who keers for preachers an' storekeepers now? 'Pears like this mornin's work is goin' to turn out all right after all; don't it to you?"

Through the rails of the fence Bud Goble watched Toby until he disappeared in the quarter, and then he crept up to the log. In ten minutes more old Toby's money was tightly buttoned under the breast of his coat, and Bud, highly elated with the result of his morning's labor was taking long strides toward his cabin.

"I aint got the dress an' shoes I promised to have for ye when I come home," said Bud, when he burst in upon his wife, whom he found engaged in her usual occupation—sitting in front of the fire with her elbows upon her knees and a cob pipe between her teeth. "Old man Bailey wouldn't trust me, but Toby wasn't so perticular. He hid this here stockin' under a log, an' bein' afeared that the hogs might come along an' root it up an' carry it away, I jest thought I'd take keer on it for him," added Bud, laughing loudly at his own wit.

The woman's eyes glistened as she thrust her bony arm into the stocking and brought out a handful of shining silver coin. She would have her dress now in spite of old man Bailey; and as for Toby—she gave scarcely a thought to the consternation and alarm that would almost overwhelm him when he discovered his loss, for a field hand had no business to have a stocking half-full of money, when white folks did not know where their next meal was coming from. Her only fear was that Mr. Riley might somehow learn that Bud had taken the money, and then there would be trouble.

"You must look out for that yourself," Bud declared. "I've done my part, an' if you can't hide the stockin' where nobody can't find it, an' keep a still tongue in your head about our havin' it, you aint the woman I take you for. Now give me what you think your dress'll cost, an' a trifle more to put in bacon an' meal, an' I'll go an' get 'em."

His wife complying with the request, Bud hung his rifle upon its hooks over the fireplace and posted off to Barrington, where a surprise, that was not altogether an agreeable one, awaited him. He could not find any of his friends, but every one on the street, with whom he exchanged a word of greeting, seemed to know all about the adventures he had had that day. Bud didn't mind being told that he had permitted a little old man, who could not stand against a twelve-year-old boy, to scare him with a revolver, for he was not the only one in that scrape. Four other men had stood on the outside of the counter while Mr. Bailey talked to them as he pleased; but when folks came to joke him for being walked out of the yard by a preacher, it was more than he could endure.

"Jest let him get the grip on you that he got on me, an' he'll make the best among ye walk turkey," Bud retorted sharply. "There aint a man in town that's got any business with him, if he is a preacher. But let me tell ye: He aint by no means heared the last of me yet."

Bud saw signs of suppressed excitement on all sides and in the face of every man he met; but, conceited as he was, he could not believe that the excitement was occasioned by the incidents of which he had been the hero. They might have had something to do with the grave look he saw on Mr. Riley's face as the latter hurried by him without speaking, but Bud believed that there was something else in the wind of which he had not heard. It had such a depressing effect upon him that he transacted his business with as little delay as possible and went home.

"There's goin' to be doin's of some sort or another about yer, an' before long, too," said he, as he handed his wife the articles he had bought for her, and deposited the bag containing the meal and bacon on the floor. "I don't know what's up, but Riley an' among 'em look sorter uneasy. Mebbe that outbreak old woman, that's what's the matter, sure's you're born. That outbreak's comin', an' who knows but it'll be here this very night?"

"Good lands save us!" exclaimed Mrs. Goble, in alarm; and even her husband looked as though he would have liked to go to a little safer place than Barrington was, if he had only known where to find it.

"Yes, sir, that's jest what's the matter," repeated Bud. "Riley's somehow got wind of it, an' that's what made him look so glum. Why didn't he stop an' tell me all about it, I'd like to know. I'll jest tell him he mustn't do that a-way no more, kase it aint right long's I am workin' for that committee. Say," he continued, lowering his voice almost to a whisper. "When John Brown made that raid of his'n, Barrington was one of the places that was marked on his map to be burned, kase there was more niggers here than white folks. 'Member it, don't you?"

"Good lands!" cried Mrs. Goble, who, if she had ever before heard of the circumstance, had quite forgotten all about it.

"That's what Riley says," continued Bud, "an' who knows but the thing we've been a-dreadin' is comin' now? They do say that there's guns an' things hid somewheres in the woods—"

"You don't tell me!"

"It's jest what I do tell ye, kase I've heard it often. Of course the niggers knows where them guns is, an' when they an' the babolitionists like Elder Bowen get ready, they'll fetch 'em out an' go for us."

In a very short time Bud succeeded in talking himself into a most uncomfortable frame of mind. He did not feel quite safe at home, for his cabin was exposed, being fully a quarter of a mile from the nearest house, and he was afraid to go into town. His utter ignorance of the nature of the danger that threatened him made the situation hard to bear. As for fighting in case he were attacked—that was something Bud had not yet thought of. He would have preferred to run. His wife was so badly frightened that she could scarcely cook the dinner, and Bud could eat but little of it after it was cooked; but he smoked more than his share of tobacco, managed to run a few extra bullets for his rifle, and to bring in a supply of light-wood sufficient to keep a bright fire burning during the night.

As the sun sank out of sight behind the trees, and daylight faded and darkness came on, Bud's fears grew upon him. He dared not stay in the cabin for fear that some evil-minded Union man might slip up behind it, and shoot him through some of the cracks where the chinking had fallen out, so he drew one of the rickety chairs in front of the door and sat upon it, with his rifle for company. That was a little better than being cooped up within doors, but the unwonted silence that brooded over the surrounding woods distressed him.

"Durin' all the years we've lived yer I never seen the road so deserted as it is to-night," he said, in a whisper to his wife. "There's always somebody goin' one way or t'other, but now they seem to have holed up."

"Mebbe they're feared the outbreak'll ketch 'em," Mrs. Goble suggested. "What does it look like, any way?"

"Now, listen at her!" exclaimed Bud, in accents of disgust. "'Tain't a hant that'll run after you, all dressed up in white, an' retch out its hands to grab—"

"Don't, don't!" cried his wife, shuddering perceptibly and covering her eyes with her hands to shut out the picture that Bud's words had conjured up. "Don't talk that a-way."

"Well, then, an outbreak is a-a-thing where the niggers an' babolitionists run around, whoopin' an' yellin' like they was wild Injuns, shootin' the men an' scalpin' the women folks an' burnin' an' stealin'," said Bud. "That's what an outbreak is, an' you can see for yourself what will happen to us if one of 'em gets loose in Barrington. I wish't somebody would come along from over town so't I could ax him how things is goin' there."

But no one came, and for long hours Bud Goble sat there, listening and peering into the darkness, and in momentary expectation of hearing or seeing something alarming. About midnight, however, the excitement began. At that hour Bud mustered up courage enough to start on a trip around the cabin, and when he got to the back of it, where he could look through the tops of the trees toward Mr. Riley's house, he stopped as if he had suddenly been deprived of the power to go a step farther. The sky in that direction was glowing with a brighter red than he had ever seen at sunset, and the longer he looked at it, the brighter it grew. Beyond a doubt Mr. Riley's house was on fire. When this thought flashed through Bud's mind, the cold chills crept all over him, and instead of hastening to render what assistance he could in saving the planter's property, he turned and ran into the cabin, banging the door behind him, and dropped the heavy bar to its place.

"Good lands!" exclaimed Mrs. Goble, whom her husband, in his excitement and terror had upset, chair and all, in front of the fireplace.

"Don't stop to talk, old woman," said Bud, in a hoarse whisper, "but get up an' fly around an' do something. The outbreak has come like I told you it would. Riley's house is a mask of fire. If you don't b'lieve it peep through this yer crack."

For a minute or two the deep silence that reigned in the cabin was broken only by the hurried breathing of its frightened inmates, and then there came a sound from the outside—a quick, heavy step on the hard ground, followed by the fumbling of a hand for the latchstring. Bud's face grew as white as a sheet, his knees trembled under him, and the muzzle of his rifle, which he tried to point toward the door, covered every square foot of surface on that side of the cabin in two seconds' time.

"Who's there?" he demanded, in quavering tones. "Speak up, for there's a bullet comin' right through the door where you stand."

"What's the matter of the fule?" inquired the man on the outside; and Bud recognized the voice of one of his friends. "Lemme in."

Bud was only too glad to comply. He threw up the bar, opened the door, and Silas Walker same in the man who held his rifle in the store while he was making ready to punish Mr. Bailey for refusing him credit. Bud was glad to see that he was not the only one who had been alarmed and excited by that blaze in the sky. Silas's face had no color in it to speak of, and he trembled as he moved across the floor.

"How did you get home so quick?" were the first words he spoke.

"Who? Me?" cried Bud. "I've been home sense noon; aint I, old woman?"

"Then who done it?" questioned Silas.

"Done what?"

"Set the elder's house on fire."

Bud was astounded, and so was his wife. The former looked sharply at his visitor for a moment, and then backed toward the nearest chair.

"Isn't it Riley's house?" he gasped.

"Course not. I can see it plain from my door, an' there's Riley's house standin' up safe an' sound as it ever was. It's Elder Bowen's, fast enough. I kinder thought you done it to pay him for shovin' you outen his lot by the neck, and I said to my old woman that you had sarved him jest right; but if you didn't do it, then some of that Committee of Safety must be to work."

Bud hadn't once thought of that, and it put an entirely different look on the matter. If it was true that the "outbreak had come," it must be that—

"There's a light off this a-way, too," observed Mrs. Goble, who to conceal her agitation from the visitor, had moved around the room until she found an opening between the logs through which she could look out toward Barrington. "'Pears like there might be an other house a-fire."

"Hey-youp!" yelled Bud, whose terror had given away to almost fiendish exultation. "The outbreak has come, like I said it was goin' to do, but it aint the babolitionists an' niggers that's doin' of it. It's our own friends. Come on, Sile. Me an' you mustn't hang back when there's work to be done for the 'Federacy an' danger to be met."

"Now's a good time to settle with old man Bailey," Silas remarked.

"Couldn't find a better if we tried for a whole month," replied Bud gleefully. "I knowed I would get even with him some day, but I didn't think it would come before I'd had time to sleep. Hush yer noise, old woman. Course I'm goin' up there. Riley said the 'Federacy would look for every man to do his dooty when the time come, an' if it aint come now, I'd like to know what's the reason. Nobody won't harm you here."

In spite of the querulous protests of Mrs. Goble, who strongly objected to being left alone now that "the outbreak had come," Bud and his companion rushed out of the house and started for Barrington, running full tilt all the way for fear that the fun would all be over, and the home of every Union man in town be destroyed before they could get there to lend a hand. There was no suspicion in their minds that these two fires, located so far apart, could be the result of accident. If there was any faith to be placed in that notice in the post-office there had been an outbreak of some sort threatened, and beyond a doubt the members of the Committee of Safety had thought it wise to anticipate it by driving from Barrington every man who was suspected of being implicated in it. That was the way Bud and Silas reasoned it out, and although they were not altogether correct, they had hit pretty close to the mark.

When they reached the cross-roads, so that they could look two ways and see both the fires at once, they told each other that the houses must have been burning for some time before they knew it, for the roofs had fallen in and the blaze was beginning to die away. But where were the engines? They could not hear any bells or brakes at work, and if there were any commands given the breeze must have carried them the other way.

"That committee of our'n has got everything cut an' dried," was Bud's gleeful comment. "Let Riley an' them fellers alone for doin' things up in shape when they get at it. But it won't do for us to say that we suspicion them, for I've kinder thought, from the way they acted, that they wanted to stay behine an' pay sich chaps as me an' you for doin' the work. Now le's scoot off this a-way an' set old man Bailey agoin'."

Bud Goble, who had taken the precaution to put some matches in his pocket before leaving home, led the way along the short cut, congratulating himself on the fact that he and Silas would have a clear field for their operations, for of course the little storekeeper, and all of the rest of the men in town, were congregated at the fire. So intent were they on taking vengeance on Mr. Bailey that they did not go a step out of their way to locate the fire that was raging in town, but went straight towards the store, and without taking the least care to conceal their movements.

"It's all dark," whispered Silas. "But I don't reckon we'd best go any furder on the road. Le's go through the field an' come up behine it."

Before Bud could say a word in reply or make a motion towards acting upon the suggestion, a clear strong voice directly in front of them, and but a short distance away, called out:

"Halt! Who comes there?"

"Well, I do think in my soul!" exclaimed Silas. "Who do you reckon that is?"

Bud was frightened again, and couldn't speak. He could not see anybody, either; but if it should chance to be old man Bailey who was on the watch, wouldn't he know in a minute what it was that brought Bud there at that hour, and would he not be likely to use that revolver if he had it about him? While Bud was trying to make up his mind what he had better do, take to his heels, or stand where he was until someone came up and identified him, the challenge came again, and in more peremptory tones.

"Who comes there?" cried the voice; and the question was followed by a sound that was suspiciously like the clicking of a gun-lock.

"It's us," replied Bud, who began to think he ought to say something.

"Halt, us!" commanded the voice. "Corporal of the guard number one!"

All of this was quite unintelligible to the two men, who could scarcely have been more bewildered and alarmed if they had found themselves confronted by one of those "white things" that Bud had described to his wife; and when they heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps on the road, without being able to see who or what it was that made the noise, they could stand it no longer, but faced about and ran for their lives.

"Halt!" shouted the voice, three times in quick succession; but the frightened men did not stop. A second later there was a flash and a roar behind them, and a musket ball whistled through the air and threw up a little cloud of dust a few yards further along the road. One of those would-be incendiaries came very near getting his exemption papers that night.



CHAPTER X.

THE CALL TO ARMS.

The suppressed excitement which was so apparent to Bud Goble when he made his second trip to Barrington, was not confined to the citizens. It extended even to the military academy, but everybody there knew what caused it, although they could not look far enough into the future to see what the result of it was going to be. It was brought about by the story Marcy Gray told his friend Graham when they met in the guard-tent after dinner. Dick's cheery laugh ran out loudly when Marcy spoke about that "underground railroad business," but he looked thoughtful and angry when he learned that Bud had made up his mind to whip him for it.

"Didn't I say that he and his kind would take advantage of this excitement to get somebody into trouble?" exclaimed Dick. "The members of that Committee of Safety are going to be sorry they ever thought of getting up such an organization when there wasn't the slightest excuse for it. I say bully for Elder Bowen; and I hope every one Bud interferes with will serve him the same way."

"Well, Marcy," said Ed Billings slowly. "I can't go your Union sentiments, and I do think you ought to be slapped for preaching them up the way you do; but I'll not stand by and see Bud Goble do it. Mind that. If he opens his head to you, knock him down and I'll help."

"All the boys in school will help," said Cole. "Mr. Riley and the rest ought to be ashamed of themselves for employing such a man. We'll stand by Mr. Bailey, too."

"Of course we will," observed Dick. "Where would we get our goobers if Bud and Silas should burn him out?"

News of all kinds travels fast among a lot of boys, and in less than an hour after Marcy had been relieved every student in school knew what Bud Goble had threatened to do to him and Dick Graham. To say that they were angry wouldn't half express it. Dixon was strongly in favor of calling for volunteers that very afternoon, paying a visit of ceremony to Bud and Silas, and telling them in plain language that if they did not stop their nonsense at once and go to work to support their families, they would have something further to say to them at some future time.

"That underground railroad business," he began.

"I didn't have the first thing to do with that," Marcy interposed. "I didn't know about it until it was all over. If Bud wants revenge, let him thrash Rodney and Dick; but he'll have to thrash me too, while he is about it."

"What's the matter with Rodney?" said Billings, in a low tone.

Rodney stood around listening but taking no part in the conversation, and every one noticed that he seemed ill at ease. When his name was mentioned, he turned about and left the tent very abruptly.

"He is so mad he dare not trust himself to speak," said Billings. "His face is as white as a sheet."

"That underground railroad business isn't at the bottom of the matter at all," continued Dixon. "That proclamation in the post-office suggested an idea to some loon, who told Goble that this school needs looking after. I don't pretend to deny it. I say that every disunionist in it ought to be chucked out of the gate neck and heels; but it will take more men than that Committee of Safety and their paid spies can muster to do it."

These sentiments were received with a howl of derision from some and enthusiastic cheers from the rest; but there was one point on which they were united: The man, or body of men, who attempted violence toward any of their number would surely suffer for it. There was one among them who had not looked for this condition of affairs, who was utterly confounded by it, and who would have given everything he possessed if he could have undone a certain piece of mischief he had perpetrated in Barrington the day before.

During the afternoon many of the students acted and felt as if they were to be called upon to perform some duty outside of the usual routine of school work. Dick Graham was not the only one among them who scouted the idea of an outbreak, while others honestly believed that such a thing was more than possible. It was even probable. There were a good many Union men round about, who were quite as fearless as the secessionists were, and who held to their opinions with as great tenacity, the negroes outnumbered the whites more than five to one, and what was there to hinder them from striking a blow for the freedom that would be sure to come to them if the people of the North made up their minds that secession ought to be resisted by force of arms? Might it not be possible that the townspeople were justified, after all, in calling that meeting; that they had some information that the boys knew nothing about, and that the lives and property of some of Barrington's "prominent and respected citizens" might really be in jeopardy? If that was the case, and the students were ordered out to preserve order, which side would they support? Would they hang together, or would they split up into factions? Somehow the students did not like to dwell upon these questions, but dismissed them as soon they came into their minds.

When four o'clock was struck by the bell on the tower, the usual number of boys climbed the fence and set out for Barrington, and although they came back fully satisfied that there was something afoot, there was not one among them who had a word of news.

"The town looks as though it had been struck by a panic," said Dixon. "There was hardly anybody in the post-office, and the few people I saw on the streets looked as if they might be on their way to a funeral. I couldn't get a thing out of any man I saw, so I called on the Taylor girls, who told me the committee has positive evidence that there is to be an uprising among the negroes, led by such men as Elder Bowen. Of course that is all humbug. I don't believe in running, but I really think it would be pleasanter for the elder if he would sell out and go up to the United States. He's got Bud Goble down on him—"

"Did he and Bud have a squabble sure enough?"

"Naw. Bud got impudent and the elder took him by the neck and showed him the way to the gate. That's all there was of it. Of course there are a few who are mad about it, but the majority of the folks I talked with think Bud was served just right. I wish the colonel would call for volunteers to guard the elder's house of nights. I'd go for one."

As usual there was nothing said to the guard runners, and neither was there another sham fight in the hall, the trouble over the flag having been settled for a few days at least. The students were very quiet that evening, and when Dick and Marcy went on post at eight o'clock, there were no indications of the hubbub and confusion that one of them was destined to create before he was relieved at midnight. Dick thought it a part of his duty to keep watch of the town as well as over a portion of the school grounds, and when he stopped to rest, he always turned his face toward Barrington. Once he thought he heard faint shouts, and a few minutes later he was sure he saw the first rays of the rising moon; but that could hardly be, for, if he remembered rightly, the almanac said there wasn't to be any moon that night.

"By gracious!" thought Dick. "Can it be a fire?"

He glanced toward the archway to make sure that the corporal was not watching him, and then did a thing he had never done before in his life and was never guilty of afterward. He deserted his post. He opened the gate without causing the iron latch to click, and ran across the road until he came to the fence on the opposite side. This brought him out of range of a clump of trees that obstructed his vision at the gate, and also enabled him to look around the edge of the piece of woods behind which Marcy Gray was pacing his lonely beat. There was not only one fire, but there were two; and they were a mile or more apart.

"By gracious!" repeated Dick.

He pulled off his cap and felt of his hair to see if it was standing on end, and then hastened back to his post, closed the gate, and summoned the corporal of the guard.

"I was ordered to report anything that looked like a blaze," said Dick, when the non-commissioned officer came up. "Just cast your eye in that direction and tell me—"

"Great Scott!" exclaimed the corporal.

"See it, don't you?" said Dick. "Well, now, look over that way, and tell me if there isn't another just breaking out."

Dick pointed toward the woods, which were so thick that not the first glimmer of light could come through them, and although the corporal bent almost to the ground and twisted himself into all sorts of uncomfortable shapes, he was obliged to confess that he could not see anything that looked like a fire.

"I'm sure I saw it not more than a minute ago," said Dick, who, of course, did not tell the corporal that he had been several yards from his post when he saw it. "Perhaps if you go across the road you can get a view of it."

The corporal went, and one look was enough to satisfy him. When he returned he was highly excited.

"The niggers are at it, sure as you live," said he. "That's right in range of Mr. Riley's house."

"Too far to the right for that," replied the sentry. "Looks to be more like Elder Bowen's."

"It can't be," exclaimed the corporal incredulously. "The negroes wouldn't hurt him."

"No; but the secessionists might."

"Well, I—eh?"

"I tell you the boot's on the other foot," said Dick confidently. "It's Union property that's being destroyed this moment, and you'll find it out to-morrow. Why don't you go in and report?"

The non-commissioned officer thought it best to act upon the suggestion. He ran into the building, and when he returned he was accompanied by the officer of the guard, who took a long look at the two fires before he went in to call the colonel. Then the latter hurried out and took a look, and the two talked in low, earnest tones; and although Dick and the corporal listened with all their ears, they could not catch a word that gave them a hint of the course they had decided to pursue. But they found out when the long roll echoed through the building, being followed almost immediately by a shuffling of feet which announced that the students were hastening to the armory. After five minutes or so of silence so deep that Dick could hear the beating of his own heart, two companies of boys, fully armed and equipped, marching four abreast and moving with a free, swinging stride that took them rapidly over the ground, emerged from the archway, passed through the gate and turned down the road leading to Barrington. At the same time a quartermaster-sergeant put ten rounds of ammunition into Dick's cartridge-box and ordered him to load his piece.

"Ball cartridges?" inquired Dick.

"Correct," replied the sergeant. "If you halt a fellow and he don't halt, these are the things that will make him halt."

"Say," whispered Dick. "Hang around a minute; I want to ask you a question or two."

The sergeant "hung around" until the officer of the guard started with the corporal to make his round of the posts, and then began without waiting for the sentry to question him.

"There isn't any thing to tell," said he. "The colonel made a little speech to the boys in which he said that some fanatics, who ought to be hanged without judge or jury, were destroying property in town, and it was our business to put a stop to it if we could. He sent two companies, and the others have been furnished with ball cartridges which they are to use on anybody who comes fooling around here."

"Did the colonel say who those fanatics were?" asked Dick.

"Eh? Course he didn't. We all know who they are."

"Who are they?"

"Aw! Go up to the United States, you Yankee."

"Hold on a bit," said Dick, as the sergeant was about to turn away. "I ask for information; I do indeed. Does he think the negroes have broken out?"

"And abolitionists? Of course he does. That's what we all think. It's what we know."

"Say," continued Dick. "The night is quiet, and the little breeze there is stirring blows toward us from town, doesn't it? Now listen. Do you hear any fire-bells ringing?"

"That's so," replied the sergeant; and Dick thought he was reluctant to say it. "I don't hear a tinkle."

"That's all I've got to say," added Dick, as he settled his musket on his shoulder and began pacing his beat. "On a still night like this you can hear those big church bells four or five miles, and there hasn't one of them said a word since those fires began. I noticed that from the start."

Dixon, the tall Kentuckian, who was marching with his company toward Barrington, also took note of the fact that the bells, which usually made noise enough to arouse the planters for miles around when there was a fire, were silent now, and he called attention to it. He also noticed that the house that was burning in town belonged to a prominent and outspoken Union man; that both the engines were disabled (at least the foremen said they were); that the crowd around the house stood with their hands in their pockets, making no effort to keep the flames from spreading to the house of another Union man close by; and that Mr. Riley and a few other members of the Committee of Safety, who appeared to be full of business, but who, in reality, were doing just nothing at all, looked surprised and perplexed when the students marched up and came to a halt at the corner of the street. There was still another thing that the observant Dixon noticed and commented upon, and that was, that the colonel was not in command as he ought to have been. The colonel did not think it would be policy to take too firm a stand until he had learned whether his State was going to stay in the Union or go out of it; and so he sent in command of the students a teacher who had not yet made up his mind which side he favored. Dixon had always believed that he leaned toward the Union; and when he marched back to the academy the next morning about daylight, he was sure of it.

"I am surprised to see you here, Captain Wilson," said Mr. Riley, who was the first man to meet him when he brought the students to a halt.

"And I am surprised to see a man of your calibre get as nervous and excited over a little fire as you seem to be," replied the captain, in significant tones. "If I may presume to ask the question, how does it come that yon are on the ground so early when there are no alarm-bells ringing? What is the reason those engines are not at work? There's water enough."

"I happened to be awake when the fire broke out, and that's the way I come to be here," answered Mr. Riley sharply. "And the reason those engines are not playing on the flames is because they can't do it with their valves out of order. Really, captain, this looks to me like an uprising."

"It's the way it looks to me, too. Attention."

"What are you going to do?"

"I am going to get my men in position to carry out my orders, which are to protect property," answered the captain. "I shall put a guard around the house of every Union man in town."

"Why, Captain," exclaimed Mr. Riley. "You don't pretend to say that—"

"I don't pretend to say anything but this," interrupted the captain. "When the houses of two Union men, situated more than a mile apart, get on fire at the same time, and no bells are rung, and the engines can't work because they are out of order, and a big crowd like this stands about without lifting a finger to save anything when all these things happen, it makes me suspect that there are firebugs around, and that they are after Union men and nobody else. At any rate I shall act on that suspicion. These muskets are loaded with ball, and if any one attempts to apply a match to a building in the presence of my guards, he'll get hurt."

"Three cheers for Captain Wilson," shouted some Union boys in the ranks.

"Silence!" commanded the captain. He was angry enough to put that boy under arrest, but not foolish enough to try to find out who he was. He knew by past experience that the students would not tell tales on one another.

The captain was as good as his word. Paying no attention to the protests of the different members of the committee who gathered about him, the details were quickly made, and so it came about that Dixon and five others, including a non-commissioned officer, found themselves guarding Mr. Bailey's store. Another and much larger squad was sent down the road at double time to see what they could do to assist Elder Bowen.

"Go up that by-path a piece, Dixon," said the corporal, as he stepped upon the porch that ran in front of old man Bailey's door. "Keep your eye peeled for fire-bugs, and if you see—"

"Hey, there!" shouted a voice from the inside of the store. "Get off that porch."

"On the watch, are you?" replied the corporal. "Well, we'll watch too, if you will give us some candy to eat while we are doing it. Come out and see the Union men burn up. It will be your turn next."

Mr. Bailey was astonished—at least the corporal thought he was, for he heard him talking to himself as he stumbled around in the dark searching for a jar of candy. The old man had not looked for anything like this. Being on the watch he knew when the fire in town broke out, and believing that Bud Goble was at work, he began patroling his store with his revolver in his hand, ready to give the incendiaries a warm reception if they came near him. This was what the old man told the corporal when he opened the door and passed out the candy and a bag of peanuts.

"The nuts are for Graham, if he is with you," said he. "I never saw such an appetite as that boy's got for goobers."

"But he isn't here," replied the corporal. "He is on guard at the academy. Now tell me all you know about this business. I'm here to guard your property, although I can't see the sense of it. Mr. Riley wouldn't let Bud touch you."

"I don't think he would if he knew it, for he knows just where I stand," answered Mr. Bailey. "But Bud might take it into his crazy head to operate on his own hook, and that is what I am afraid of."

"Halt!" shouted Dixon, who had scarcely taken the position assigned him before he discovered Bud and Silas coming.

"There!" exclaimed Mr. Bailey. "I'll bet that's Bud. If it isn't, what is he sneaking around toward the back of the store for?"

"All right," replied the corporal. "I'll give him such a scare that he'll never trouble you again. If he doesn't tell a pretty straight story I'll march him before Captain Wilson."

As he spoke he stepped off the porch and started toward Dixon's post, and it was the sound of his footsteps that frightened Bud and his companion into a run. He was really alarmed when he heard the report of Dixon's piece.

"You've played smash on your watch, old fellow," said he, as he hastened to the sentry's side.

"Can't help it," was Dixon's answer. "Orders are orders."

"Who was it?"

"Bud Goble for one. I recognized his voice; but I don't know who his companion was."

"Did you hit either of them?"

"Guess not. I shot to hit if they were firebugs, and to miss if they were not. They both ran away, so I reckon they were innocent of any wrong intent; but they ought to have stopped when I told them."

The corporal walked up the road a few hundred yards, but could not see anything of Bud and his friend. They had taken themselves safely off. Just as he got back to Dixon's post a sentry on the other side of the store shouted out a challenge.

"I told you you had played smash," said the corporal. "The captain has come up to inquire into the matter."

That was just who the new-comer was, as the corporal found when he responded to the sentry's call; but he did not have a word of fault to find with the way Dixon had obeyed orders. His men had been commanded to halt everybody who came near their beat, and to fire upon all who did not come in and give an account of themselves. He was excited, and possibly expressed his sentiments with more freedom in the presence of his non-commissioned officer than he ought to have done.

"Dixon did right," said he. "The colonel told me to protect property, and if he doesn't approve of the measures I have taken to do it, he can send somebody else in command the next time he finds it necessary to order out a company of students. These are terrible times, corporal, and they are getting worse every day. Terrible times when neighbors are turned against one another as they seem to be in this town."

"It's some consolation to know that they can't be much worse, sir," observed the corporal.

"My dear boy, you haven't seen the beginning of it," replied the captain sadly. "I don't think you will be troubled again to-night, but carry out your orders to the letter. That's all you have to do."

Whether or not the colonel's prompt action in sending two hundred armed students into town operated as a check upon the firebugs (if there were any), the boys did not know; but when daylight came and the sentries were called in, and the column formed preparatory to marching back to the academy, they were all satisfied of one thing: They had made any number of enemies among the townspeople by their night's work.

"We've made a blunder, sure's you're born," said Billings angrily.

"Tell us something we don't know," said the boy who marched at his elbow. "I saw that the minute Mr. Riley came up and spoke to the captain. But what got it through your head at this late hour?"

"I wouldn't have had it happen for anything," continued Billings. "We've got every member of that Committee of Safety down on us, and they are the best men in town. They wouldn't even look at me when they passed my beat, but always turned their heads as if they did not want to see me."

"Who cares for that?" demanded Dixon. "If they want to get down on us because we carried out our orders, let 'em get. If their arrangements have been interfered with, let them go up to the academy and look cross at the colonel. He's the man."

"Well, I know one thing," observed Cole. "If the colonel wants to send any more boys into town on an errand like this, he'll send somebody besides me. I'll refuse duty."

"Hear, hear!" exclaimed every one of the students who were close enough to Cole to catch his words.

The boys who had been left at the academy were not turned out to receive their returning comrades, who marched to the armory looking more like culprits than like boys who had tried to do their duty, ordered arms spitefully, and broke ranks sullenly.

"What's the meaning of this, I'd be pleased to know?" Dixon demanded of Marcy Gray and Dick, who were the first to greet him. "Where's our speech of welcome? Why doesn't the colonel pat us on the back and say: 'Well done, little boys?'"

"This is the reason," answered Dick. "Shortly after I was relieved, a delegation from that Committee of Safety rode up and interviewed the colonel for half an hour."

"Aha!" exclaimed Dixon. "We stepped on their toes, didn't we? Well, we suspected it from the first. Some of the fellows declare they'll not go another time, but I will. As long as I stay here I'm going to obey orders, I don't care what they are."

"I don't think you will ever be called upon for like service again," said Marcy. "The colonel has had a lesson of some kind. He looks as though he had lost his best friend. Heigh-o!" he added, stretching his arms and yawning. "What's the next thing on the programme? Will Fort Sumter be reinforced?"

Dixon couldn't say as to that, but there was one thing of which he was sure: This backing and filling on both sides couldn't last much longer, and the first thing they knew there would be an explosion of some sort, and it would come from Charleston harbor.

The students were not disturbed again that night, and on the following day things passed off much as they usually did, only the colonel, to quote from Dixon, was cross and snappish, not having had time to get over pouting about the lesson he had received the night before. During the day it leaked out that Mr. Riley and his friends had talked to him very plainly, told him that it was absolutely necessary for the peace and safety of the town that the Union men should be driven out of it, and that the colonel's interference with the committee's plans was, to say the least, unfriendly to the cause of the South. It was also reported that the colonel had promised he would never do the like again.

"That means destruction to the Union men," said Marcy, in a tone of contempt. "I believe I'll go home. I don't care to serve under a man who has no more pluck than the colonel seems to have."

If he had started at once he might have saved himself some anxiety, and would certainly have carried away with him a better opinion of his cousin Rodney than he had two days later.



CHAPTER XI.

BUD'S MESSENGER IN TROUBLE.

Although the hours from four until six in the afternoon were devoted to recreation, it was expected that those of the students who wished to visit friends in town would ask for a pass before attempting to leave the grounds; but we have seen that they didn't. There were some professional guard-runners among them, and on this particular afternoon they appeared in full force.

"Come on, old fellow," Billings shouted to Marcy Gray, who was carrying a camp-chair toward a spreading maple that stood near the guard tent.

"No; I think I will stay here and try to read," replied Marcy. "I know this book will not quarrel with me, but some of the Barrington people might. There must be a good deal of excitement down there, and I shouldn't think you would care to go."

"It's the very reason we do care to go," replied Rodney, who, with Dick Graham at his side, was taking long steps toward the fence that separated the academy grounds from the woods. "We want to see what the folks think of last night's work. They'll not say a word to Dick and me, for we were not there."

"You'll find that that will not make any difference," said Marcy. "They are down on the school, and you two will have to stand snubbing with the rest."

Dick laughed and said he did not believe it, and he and his companion kept on to the fence, which they climbed without a word of remonstrance from the sentry, who was obliging enough to turn his back when he saw them coming. Marcy watched them until they disappeared in the bushes, and then fastened his eyes on his book; but he could not read. The air was too full of excitement for that, and he could do nothing but think. How he passed the time until the guard-runners and those who had received passes began to return from town, he could not have told. There was a good deal of feeling among the best of the Barrington people, they said, but the members of the committee did not blame the academy boys for marching into town. On the contrary, they were rather gratified at the promptness with which they "showed up"; for it was an indication that they would not be found wanting when the critical time came; but they did not like the way the commandant had of meddling with their municipal affairs, and had sent Mr. Riley and some others to extort from him a promise that he would never be guilty of it again.

"So that report was true," said Dixon, who brought this news to Marcy Gray, "and that was the lesson the colonel has been pouting over all day. He gave Mr. Riley the assurance that no matter what happened in Barrington, not a single boy of us should be allowed outside the grounds with a musket in his hand."

"Rodney didn't come home with you, did he?" said Marcy. "I wish he would make haste, for I should like to get my mail. Do you know where he is?"

"That reminds me of something I made up my mind to ask you the minute I got here," answered Dixon; and Marcy judged, by the furtive manner in which he looked around to make sure there was no one within earshot, that he did not want anybody else to know what he had to say. "Has Rodney anything in common with that villain, Bud Goble?"

"Not by a long shot," exclaimed Marcy indignantly. "Why do you ask? Don't you know him any better than that?"

"I thought I did; but the last time I saw him and Dick Graham, they were searching everywhere for Bud. Graham is, or was, all right; there's no discount on him, but—"

"But what?" demanded Marcy, when Dixon paused. "Don't say a word behind Rodney's back that you would not say to his face."

"I won't," replied Dixon, who was neither angry nor frightened. "I hope you have been acquainted with me long enough to know that I am not that sort of fellow. I say Dick is all right, because he will not make a move either way until his State moves; and in the mean time, he will not want to do harm to those whose opinions differ from his own. But, Marcy Gray, that cousin of yours is about half crazy."

"That's a fact," said Marcy, after thinking a moment.

"Consequently Rodney is not all right, and there's a heavy discount on him," continued Dixon. "He is down on everybody who does not think as he does, and I am afraid—Look here: Why is Rodney so anxious to see Bud Goble if it isn't to put him up to some mischief?"

"That's so," replied Marcy thoughtfully. "Why is he?"

"There was a time when Rodney's blood would have boiled at the idea of standing by and seeing helpless people served as those two Union men were served by the members of Mr. Riley's committee last night, but it isn't so now," continued Dixon. "He believes that Northern sympathizers ought to be punished, and he don't care how it is done or who does it!"

"But Dick Graham is with Rodney, and you think Dick is all right," Marcy reminded him. "Dick wouldn't be likely to stay with him if he thought Rodney was going to put any more mischief into Bud Goble's head."

"Dick was all right the last time I talked with him, but how do I know but that Rodney has succeeded in bringing him over to his side."

"Oh, I hope not," said Marcy earnestly. "I'll speak to Rodney when he comes, and tell him to let all such fellows as Goble alone. Don't repeat what you have said to me, will you?"

"Of course not. I think too much of Rodney for that, and if he gets himself into trouble through his foolishness, I'll be one of the first to jump in and help him out."

Marcy was on nettles after Dixon went away, and it is a question whether he would have felt much easier in his mind if he had known why it was that his cousin was so anxious to find Bud Goble. Rodney did not want to put any more mischief into the man's head; he wanted to take out some he had put there two days before. He did not feel as bitter toward Marcy and Dick Graham as he did when he slipped away from his friends on the evening that Confederate flag came to him through the post-office, and wrote that letter calling Bud's attention to the fact that there were some Union boys in the academy who ought to be told that their room was better than their company. The threats that Bud had made against Marcy, and the destruction of the property of those two Union men, frightened Rodney, who would have given up all his worldly prospects to know just how much his letter to the paid spy had to do with bringing about the present state of affairs. His desire now was to stop Bud before he could go any further.

Marcy, depressed in spirits and fearing, he knew not what, waited and watched in vain. Dress parade was over, supper had been eaten, and the gate closed for the night, and still Rodney and Dick had failed to report.

"I feel a little worried myself," said Dixon, to whom Marcy went for sympathy and comfort. "And I don't believe Captain Wilson is altogether right in his mind, for I have heard him making inquiries among the boys. In fact he has been to me to find out where I last saw the missing chaps, and what they were doing. But don't be uneasy. I didn't tell him that they were looking for Bud Goble. I almost wish I had," he added, to himself. "I may have to do it yet if they don't turn up all right."

"Captain Wilson doesn't think they could have got into any trouble, does he?" said Marcy anxiously.

"He didn't say a word on that score."

"But it looks as though he was afraid of it," replied Marcy. "If he wasn't afraid something had happened to them he would not ask about them."

This interview with Dixon would have added to Marcy's fears, even if he had not learned, as he did a few minutes later, that all the boys in the hall were talking about it, and wondering what had become of Rodney and Dick. Like many others these two had openly defied all the rules for weeks past, but they had never before stayed out after dark, and some of the students declared that they wouldn't do it now if they were not prevented from coming back to the academy. When Marcy heard this, he decided that something ought to be done. He went upstairs and told the orderly to ask if he might speak to the colonel.

"I think I know what you want," whispered the orderly, "and I tell you plainly that he won't let you do it. But I'll go in with your message."

There were others among the students who thought they knew what Marcy wanted, and who followed him to the head of the stairs to "see how he would come out with the old man." The orderly disappeared through the colonel's door, but came out a few minutes afterward to report—

"What did I tell you?"

"What did he say?" inquired Marcy.

"He says he doesn't want to be bothered. I put in a good word for you, suggesting that perhaps you wanted permission to go to Barrington and see what has become of Rodney, and he said in reply that you need not trouble yourself. You could not go. He will not allow a boy outside the gate after dark, no matter what his business is, and he'll chuck Rodney and Dick into the guard-house the minute they return, and keep them there."

For the first time since he had been a student at that school Marcy Gray felt rebellious. He stood high in his class, was always on hand when duty called him, never ran the guard, hadn't asked for a pass for more than a week, and for the colonel to send him off in this way, without even listening to the request he had to make, was rather more than Marcy could stand.

"I was going to ask him to let me go to town and see if I could learn what has become of Rodney and Dick," said he to the boys who were waiting for him at the top of the stairs. "But he sent word by the orderly that he wouldn't see me. I'm going to Barrington all the same."

"Do you want company?" asked Dixon.

"I should like to have three or four good fellows," replied Marcy, "but mind you, I shall not ask anybody to go with me. I am bound to get into trouble."

"Well, you can't find any better guard-house companion than I am," answered Dixon.

"I'm another good fellow for that cheerful hole," observed Billings. "I ought to be, for I've been there often enough."

Bob Cole said he was a third candidate for a court-martial, announced his determination to go if Billings went, whether Marcy said so or not, and the latter decided that three boys were as many as he cared to bring into trouble on account of their friendship for him and the missing students.

"Now, fellows," whispered Dixon to the other boys who were gathered about. "You stay in the hall, and if anybody asks you where we have gone, you can tell him you don't know. Be quiet now, all of us, and don't act or look as though there was anything in the wind."

This was easier said than done, for now that these four students had decided to run counter to the colonel's express orders, and find out what had become of Rodney Gray and his companion, they were impatient to be off. But three of their number managed to leave the hall without attracting very much attention, and halted in the shade of the trees to wait for Dixon, who, being an experienced guard-runner, had loitered behind to ascertain who were on posts three and four, between which they would have to pass in order to reach the fence.

"They're solid boys," said he, when he joined Marcy and the rest under the trees. "If we can get close enough to give them a hint of what we want to do before they challenge us, they'll let us through. After we get a little farther along, perhaps it would be best for me to go on ahead."

Of course the suggestion was adopted, for among all the boys in school there was not one who knew how to manage affairs of this sort better than Dixon. He succeeded in getting within sight of one of the sentries without being stopped, made him understand, in some mysterious way, that secrecy was not only desirable but necessary, and in a few minutes whistled for his companions. Such a proceeding as this would not have been successful, nor would it have been attempted, at any other time in the history of the academy.

"I've been thinking about those two boys ever since I came on post," said the sentry, in a low tone. "And I am glad you have made up your minds to go in search of them, in spite of the colonel. Crawl over whenever you get ready, but I mustn't see you do it."

The sentry faced about, and the four guard-runners placed their hands upon the fence and were about to "crawl over," when their movements were arrested by a sound coming from the thicket close in front of them. Remembering how old Uncle Toby had approached Marcy Gray's post, they stopped and listened.

"St—St—!" was the sound they heard, and something told them that the person who made it desired to communicate with them secretly.

"Who is it?" whispered Dixon.

"It's me," answered a voice.

"Who's me? If you are a friend come out and show yourself. If you are an enemy, get away from there or we will be down on you like a shower-bath."

"It's me; Caleb Judson. Don't you know me?"

"Whew!" whistled Dixon softly, while the rest of the boys nodded and winked at one another. "It's one of Bud Goble's friends. Are we not in luck? I know of you," he said aloud. "But what are you doing there in the bushes? Come close to the fence and tell us what you want. Be quiet, for there are guards on both sides, and we mustn't let them hear us."

Thus encouraged, Caleb Judson arose from his hiding-place and came forward; but, as if he were afraid of treachery, he halted just out of reach of the fence.

"That won't do," said Dixon. "Come up close so that we can talk between the pickets. It's too late for you to run now, even if you wanted to. You see this fellow?" he added, calling Caleb's attention to the sentry, who came up holding his musket at "arms port." "That gun of his has got a bullet in it, and his orders are—"

"Don't shoot," said Caleb; and in his excitement and alarm he spoke so loud that the boys trembled.

"Don't you know enough to keep still?" exclaimed Marcy angrily. "No one is going to hurt you. Come up to the fence. Now, what brought you here? Talk fast."

"Well," said Caleb, speaking slowly, as if he did not know how to explain his errand; "you mind them Gray an' Graham boys, don't ye?"

"We have a slight acquaintance with them," answered Dixon. "What about them? Do you want to see them?"

"See 'em?" repeated Caleb. "I jest did see 'em, not more'n an hour ago."

"Um," said Dixon. "Where did you leave them?"

"Down in the woods on Riley's place, a little piece back of nigger Toby's cabin. Bud Goble's got 'em."

"Hold on, or you will spoil everything," whispered Dixon, looking over his shoulder at Marcy Gray, who began breathing very hard and trying to work his way closer to the fence. "What does Bud intend to do with them?"

"Well, it's jest this a-way," replied Caleb. "A day or two ago Bud got a letter from somebody tellin' him that them two boys oughter be drove outen the kentry, kase they was Union all over an' preachin' up their docterings as often as they got a chance. Bud, he thought so too, an' this afternoon he grabbed 'em."

"Who wrote that letter?" inquired Dixon.

"There don't none of us know; Bud himself don't know, kase there wasn't no name to it."

"It was written by some coward who was afraid to let himself be known, was it? And Bud acted upon the advice that letter contained and grabbed the boys, did he? How did he go about it?" inquired Dixon; and his three companions, who knew how quick he was to get angry, wondered that he could speak so quietly and without the slightest show of excitement.

"When they was in town to-day Bud sont 'em word that there was a sick man up the road a piece, an' asked them would they get some quinine an' take it to him," replied Caleb.

"And of course they went," said Dixon, through his clenched teeth. "Bud worked upon their feelings and caught them as easy as falling off a log. When they got to that cabin there wasn't any sick man there, but a party of ruffians who jumped on Rodney and Dick and made prisoners of them," added Dixon, who was so impatient that he could not wait for Caleb to tell the story. "Was that the way of it?"

"It were; but you see he got the wrong one. Both of 'em are the wrong ones."

"How so?"

"Well, you see they're the wrong ones; not the ones he thought he was goin' to get. Rodney is secession the very wust kind."

"Of course he is; and Graham is State rights, which is the next thing to a rebel. Well, what of it?"

"Rodney is the wrong one, I tell ye. We-uns wanted the other Gray boy—the Union feller."

"What would you have done to him if you had got hold of him?"

"We-uns kalkerlated to lick him good an' send him outen the kentry with a striped jacket."

Caleb did not hesitate to acknowledge this. He had heard it said that there were some wild secessionists in the school, and taking his cue from the Barrington people, who thought it right to destroy the property of Union men, he believed that the students who were in favor of the Confederacy would be willing to take summary vengeance upon those of their number who were foolish enough to stand up for the old flag. But he thought it would be wise to make sure of that point before he went any further.

"You're Jeff Davis men, I reckon, aint ye?" said he "We are for the South every day in the week," replied Dixon. "When the Stars and Stripes are pulled down and the Stars and Bars run up in their place, I'll holler as loud as the next fellow. You may speak freely."

Caleb might have had some doubts on that point if he could have seen the flashing eyes and clenched fists there were on the other side of the fence. But Dixon spoke so calmly, in spite of the towering rage he was in, that the man's suspicions were not aroused.

"You calculated to whip Rodney and drive him out of the country; but when you learned that he was a good rebel, you thought you wouldn't do it," said Dixon. "Is that the way of it? Then what are you holding him for? Why don't you let him come home?"

"All the company was in for lettin' both of 'em go, 'ceptin' Bud. He wouldn't hear to it."

"What sort of a company have you?"

"One we-uns got up yesterday and last night while them houses was burnin'. Minute men, you know, who are ready to grab their guns an' fight in a minute. Bud wanted to capting the company, but we-uns put in another feller, an' mebbe that makes him madder t'wards the boys than he would be if he was capting."

"Very likely; and it is a good idea to pound them for it. What was the reason he wouldn't listen when you proposed to let Rodney go?"

"Kase Rodney an' that Graham boy was the fellers that offered to give him a hunderd dollars if he would show them where that underground railroad was that used to tote the niggers off to Canady," replied Caleb. "Bud says they needn't think they're ever goin' to come back to the 'cademy less'n he gets them hunderd dollars. He looked for the railroad in good faith, an' allows that he'd oughter be paid for his time an' trouble."

"And this is the way he takes to get his pay, is it? Well, he must have it, and if I have any influence with the boys he will get more than he asks for. But why did you come here to tell us this?"

"Kase Bud sont me up here to get the money."

"You know right where he is, I suppose?"

"I do, for a fac'."

"Are there many men with him?"

"Nobody but jest Silas Walker. The rest of the company wouldn't have nothing to do with it, an' so they went home."

"And you expect us to send the money back by you, do you? How much of it will you get?"

"Not a dog-gone cent. I don't want none of it. I come kase I want to see them two boys let go. Hold on, there. What you doin'?" exclaimed Caleb, when he felt himself suddenly seized by the elbow and his whole arm pulled through the fence. "Turn me loose."

"Take hold of the other arm, Billings," said Dixon quietly. "Now, old man, keep perfectly still and do just as you are told, and no harm shall come to you. You are friendly to Rodney and Dick, and that makes us friendly toward you. Come over the fence. Up you go."

"What for?"

"We want you to tell the officer of the guard, and perhaps the colonel, just what you have told us, word for word."

"By gracious, boys, you're going to get me into a pretty mess," said the sentry nervously. "You can't get him over without alarming the whole school, and how shall I explain matters to the corporal? He's a chap who will not stand any nonsense. Come over that fence," he added, an idea striking him; and as he spoke he drew up his loaded musket and pointed it at Caleb's head. "Quick and still, or I'll cut loose."

The sight of the black muzzle that looked him squarely in the eye was too much for Caleb's nerves. Beseeching the sentry, in whining tones, to turn that weapon t'other way, he shinned up the pickets, Dixon and Billings shifting their hold from his arms to his legs and feet as he ascended, and in two minutes more he stood within the academy grounds.



CHAPTER XII.

THE FIRST COMPANY IN ACTION.

"There," said Dixon soothingly. "I told you you shouldn't be hurt if you obey orders without making any fuss. Now come with us, and don't speak above a whisper."

"What do you reckon the kurn'll do to me?" inquired Caleb, who could scarcely have been more frightened if the students had threatened him as Bud Goble had threatened Rodney and Dick.

"He'll not do the first thing to you," Billings assured him. "Why should he when you come here as a friend to those two prisoners? We'll see you safe outside the gate as soon as the officers are through questioning you."

"An' will you-uns give me the money?" asked Caleb. "If you don't, them boys is bound to get whopped."

"Did Bud say so?"

"He made that same remark. An' he said, furder, that if I wasn't back by sun-up with the hunderd dollars, he would know you-uns had held fast to me, an' then he would lick 'em, sure hope to die."

"I promise you that you shall be back there before sunrise," said Dixon significantly. "We can't permit those fellows to be whipped on account of a joke, and we won't, either. You are quite sure you can go straight to him?"

Yes, Caleb was sure he could do that; and then his conductors, who had all the while held fast to his arms, halted in front of Captain Wilson, the officer of the guard, who chanced to be pacing back and forth in front of the tent. The captain listened in amazement while the boys told their story, and the light from the tent showed that there was a shade of anxiety on his face when he inquired:

"Where did you find this man?"

"Outside the grounds, sir," Dixon promptly responded.

"And what were you doing outside the grounds at this hour, when you know that such a thing is positively forbidden?" continued the officer severely.

"I had started for Barrington, sir," answered Marcy. "The commandant wouldn't give me a chance to ask permission to go."

"And so you went without it?"

"Yes, sir, I did. I was resolved to learn something about Rodney and Dick before I slept."

"I shall be obliged to shut you up," said the captain.

"Very good, sir," replied Marcy. "But how about Rodney and Dick? Is that villain Goble to be permitted to abuse them as he pleases?"

"I am surprised at your insolence, Private Gray," said the officer sternly. "Go inside the tent under arrest."

Marcy went, and all the boys, as well as Caleb Judson, went in with him, and Captain Wilson hastened away to lay the matter before the colonel.

"Now, I'll tell you what's a fact," said Marcy. "Captain Wilson would do something for those boys if he were in command, but the colonel will not do the first thing."

"So be it," answered Billings. "Then we'll see whether or not the fellows will do something. They are not the lads I take them for if they do not rally on center the minute they find out how the land lies."

"What's up?" whispered a student, thrusting his head into the tent and then looking back to see if there was any one coming. "Who's that gentleman" (nodding at Caleb), "and what are you doing in there?"

"In arrest for being sassy," replied Cole. "Say—"

Here all the boys got upon their feet, stepped to the door and held a short but earnest conversation with the student outside, who muttered, ejaculated, and scratched his head in a way that indicated the profoundest surprise and bewilderment. Then he said: "You bet I'll do it," disappeared around the corner of the tent, and the boys ran back to the table, beside which they stood, with their caps off and their hands to their foreheads, when the officer of the guard came in accompanied by the colonel. The latter looked and acted as if the burden of his responsibility was too heavy for him to carry; and the worst of it was, it was growing heavier every day. He was out of patience, too, and as cross as a bear.

"What sort of a cock-and-bull story is this I hear about Sergeant Gray and Private Graham?" said he snappishly. "I am in no humor for wasting words."

"Neither are we, sir," Marcy replied boldly. "My cousin is in trouble, and I should like to have him helped out of it."

"If he hadn't run the guard and gone to town without permission, he wouldn't be in trouble," answered the colonel. "Now let me hear the story from beginning to end, and in as short a space of time as possible."

Marcy Gray and Dixon could talk to the point when they made up their minds to it, and the colonel was not kept in his chair a second longer than was necessary to make him understand just how Rodney and Dick were situated. That the recital made him nervous was plain from the way he rubbed his hands together and tumbled his hair about his forehead.

"Well, what do you expect me to do about it?" he asked, when the story was concluded.

"We should like to have you send an officer down there, under guidance of this man Judson, and rescue those boys," said Marcy.

"That is the duty of the civil authorities, and I cannot interfere with them," replied the colonel, in a tone which seemed to say that the matter was settled so far as he was concerned. "Last night I tried to do a friendly turn for the citizens of Barrington, but I will never do it again. They can be burned up or whipped for all I care."

"But, sir, these boys are not citizens of Barrington," said Dixon. "They are pupils of this school, and as such they are entitled to all the aid and comfort it is in your power to give them."

"When I think I need to be instructed in my duty toward those who are placed under my care, I will send for you, Private Dixon," replied the colonel loftily; but the boys all saw, and so did the officer of the guard, that he could not make up his mind how to act under the circumstances. The colonel knew well enough that there was little dependence to be placed upon the Barrington authorities, and that the surest way to help Rodney and Dick was to do as Marcy suggested; but he could not make a move without running the risk of offending the influential members of the Committee of Safety. As he spoke he pointed toward the door, and Dixon saluted and went out.

"In order to relieve your suspense, Private Gray, I will tell you what I purpose doing," continued the colonel. "I will send this man with a note to the police justice in town, and request him to take some steps looking to your cousin's release. That is all I can do."

"An' will you give me the hunderd dollars to hand to Bud?" inquired Caleb.

"I shall not give you a cent."

"Then I sha'n't go nigh Bud, an' that's flat," declared Caleb, with more spirit than he had previously exhibited. "Them chaps will get licked if I don't have that money to hand to Bud when I see him, an' I aint wantin' to get into trouble."

Dixon, who was loitering about on the outside of the tent, did not wait to hear any more, but posted off to the hall, where he found an excited, almost frantic, crowd of students impatiently looking for some one to come from the guard tent and tell them what the commandant had decided to do.

"Colonel," said Marcy, whose white face showed how desperate was the conflict that was raging within him, and how hard it was to be respectful to the man who had it in his power to help Rodney, and who refused to use that power because he was afraid of the Barrington secessionists. "Your plan will not work, sir."

"I can't help it," was the colonel's answer. "It is the only thing I can do. If Rodney had stayed within bounds he would not be in need of help. Now go, all of you."

As soon as they were safe out of the tent Marcy caught Caleb by the arm and whispered—

"If the colonel hands you a note to carry to town, don't go away with it until I see you again. If you do you may get into difficulty. I'll raise some money for you."

"That's talking sense," said Caleb, in the same cautious whisper. "It's the only way to get 'em off without a lickin'."

"Look here," exclaimed Billings, as the three moved away leaving Caleb standing near the guard tent. "Are you going to raise a hundred dollars for Goble?"

"Not much. I don't think I could; but I'm going to raise something to pay Caleb for guiding me to Bud's hiding-place."

"Bully for you. Count us in."

"I'll not ask any one to go with me," answered Marcy. "If you want to help, you can do it by telling me how I can smuggle my musket and cartridge-box out of the armory."

"Now, that's an idea. Of course we'll help. Great Scott! What a crazy crowd, and what do you reckon they're going to do?"

It was no wonder that Bob Cole asked this question. While he and his companions were talking they walked through the archway into the hall, which was filled with pale, determined-looking students, who were quietly making their way up the wide stairs toward the armory.

"What's up?" repeated Cole.

"We're going after our muskets," replied one. "Fall in."

"Not the whole school?" Billings managed to gasp, while Marcy Gray stood speechless, wondering at the magnitude of the rebellion which had been brought about by the colonel's refusal to send a squad to Rodney's assistance and Dick's, and by the stirring appeals to which they had listened from Dixon, as well as from the lips of the boy who had received those hasty instructions at the guard-tent.

"Talk about rebels! Why, this is a riot," said Cole.

"It looks very like it," replied Dixon, who stood at the foot of the stairs urging every boy to fall in. "They're all going except the company officers, who have taken themselves off out of sight, so that they cannot be called upon to oppose us. Where's Caleb?"

"I made sure of him by saying that I would raise some money for him," replied Marcy.

"If we were only outside the gate we should be all right."

"We'll get out easy as falling off a log," said Dixon. "If you had glanced toward the gate when you came in, you would have seen four good fellows there talking with the sentry. It will be their business to disarm him, if he shows fight when we attempt to march out, as it is his duty to do; and if the officer of the guard tries to turn the key upon us, those four fellows will quietly take the gate from its hinges and tumble it over into the road. It's all cut and dried, and if the boys keep as still as they are now, we'll be out before the colonel knows what we are up to. Oh, I haven't been idle since the commandant ordered me from the guard-tent."

There was no need that Dixon should say this, for the actions of the students proved that he had done a good deal of talking since he was ordered out of the tent. Although they were pushing and crowding one another in their haste to get into the armory and out of it again before some busybody (there are boys of that sort in every school) could run to the colonel and apprise him of what was going on, there was not the least noise or confusion, not a word spoken above a whisper, and if there had been any studious scholars in the dormitories, they would not have been in the least disturbed. In five minutes more the armory was thronged with students, who having taken their muskets from the racks, were buckling on their cartridge-boxes. The weight of the boxes dispelled the fear that the colonel might have had the ball cartridges that were put in them the night before removed. Why he hadn't done it, seeing that he had promised to remain neutral in future, was a mystery.

"This is a high-handed proceeding, boys," observed one, "and if a shoulder-strap should come in and order us to put these guns back, then what?"

"Then would be the time for you, to prove that you were in earnest when you promised that you would stand by Rodney and Dick if the colonel refused to help them," said another. "Who cares? We're rebels anyhow, and we certainly would not go back on our principles at the command of anybody up North."

"Don't stop to discuss politics," said Dixon, who, by common consent, was the commander of the expedition, there being no commissioned officers present. "Some of you take muskets number twenty-two, thirty-four, forty-four, and fifty-six from the racks in addition to your own for those four fellows at the gate. Now fall in, in your places as near as you can. We'll not stop to count fours or to divide the companies into platoons. So long as we get there, we don't care whether we go in military form or not. Fours right: Forward, column left, march!"

"Charge bayonets!" shouted some half-wild fellow in the ranks, when the colonel and officer of the guard, both with drawn swords in their hands, suddenly appeared in the doorway. "Run over everything that gets in the road."

"Young gentlemen! Boys! Private Dixon, what are you about?" cried the colonel, who was so amazed that he hardly knew what he said. "I'll put the last one of you in the guard-house. Just one moment, boys. Listen to reason. I'll do everything I can to get Rodney and Dick out of that scrape. I will, I assure you."

"Forward, double quick!" somebody shouted; and although the command came from one who had no business to give it, Dixon being the acknowledged leader, the most of the students would have obeyed it with the greatest promptness, had not the Kentucky boy jumped in front of the first four and barred their way with his musket, which he held at the height of his shoulders.

"Halt!" he shouted. "Colonel, this is too plain a case, as you see. If you will not help our friends who are in difficulty, we will. If we will break ranks, will you send the first company, under Judson's lead, to bring Rodney and Dick to the academy?"

"I will," replied the colonel, who saw that if he didn't agree to the proposition, the boys would go without being sent.

"Very good, sir," said Dixon; while the most of the rebels looked disappointed. "That is all we ask. Forward, column right, march. Fours, left, halt, right dress, front, order arms!"

This brought the boys back into the armory, in line, and in readiness to hear what the colonel had to say to them; but the latter was in no humor for making a speech. He could not praise the students for what they had done, and he was afraid to find fault with them, because there was an expression on their faces which said as plainly as words that the rebellion was not yet subdued, and that they were ready to go on with it if the colonel did not do as he promised without any unnecessary delay. This was something new in the history of the Barrington Military Institute. It was the first time the students had ever taken the law into their own hands, and they had showed the colonel that he could not carry water on both shoulders without running the risk of spilling some of it.

"I shall close the school and send you to your homes the first thing in the morning," sputtered the commandant, jamming his sword into its scabbard, as if to say that he had no further use for it. "This is a state of affairs to which I will not submit."

"And in the meantime, sir, permit me to remind you that my cousin is in the hands of a ruffian who has threatened to beat him, if certain demands he has made are not complied with," said Marcy, who was impatient to be off.

The colonel bit his lip, glared savagely at Marcy for an instant, said a few hurried words to Captain Wilson, and left the armory. The first thing the officer of the guard did was to remove his red sash and hand it to another teacher—an action which all the boys in line greeted with hearty cheers; and his second move was to march the first company out of line, and order the others to break ranks. This looked like business. Captain Wilson was going in command, and that meant that Rodney and his companion in trouble would be found and released before the company returned. But would the captain permit them to give Bud a whack or two with the butts of their muskets just to teach him to mind his own business in future? Probably not; and if Captain Wilson forbade it Bud would be safe, for the boys thought too much of him to rebel against his orders.

"We will wait a few minutes for the officers," said the Captain, "and in the meantime—count fours."

But the boy officers did not "show up." They had concealed themselves so effectually that the orderlies sent out by the colonel could not find them, and so the captain was obliged to go without them. They would be disappointed when they came out of their hiding-places and found that their company had gone off with the colonel's permission, but that could not be helped. Caleb Judson was much surprised when he found himself at the head of the column, surrounded by a corporal's guard who were instructed, in his hearing, to see that he did not give them the slip, but he did not refuse to act as guide.

"All I ask of you, capting," said he, "is to let me stay back out of sight when you grab Bud, so't he won't suspicion that I had anything to do with bringin' you-uns onto him. He's a bad man when he's mad—"

"So I have heard," said the captain dryly. "He must be a terrible fellow to let Elder Bowen walk him out of the yard by the back of the neck. But your wishes shall be respected, and my boys will never mention your name in connection with this business."

This satisfied Caleb, who strode ahead as if he were in a great hurry to reach his destination.

"It's queer doings, this taking nearly a hundred boys to capture two vagabonds," whispered Dixon, who had taken pains to secure a place in the ranks next to Marcy Gray. "But it's the best thing that could be done. If any of us had been ordered to stay behind, there might have been another rebellion. Besides, Bud and Silas are Injuns, and I shouldn't be surprised if they slipped through our fingers."

"I hope they will," said Marcy honestly. "Bad as they are, I shouldn't want to see them hurt."

The students marched through the principal street of Barrington, but if any one saw then! they never heard of it. There was but one man stirring, and that was old Mr. Bailey, who devoted a wakeful half-hour to patroling his premises with his revolver in his hand. If he was surprised to see the boys he did not say anything about it, for the rapidity of their movements and the strict silence they maintained were indications that they did not care to have the citizens know they were out. Mr. Bailey would have given all the candy and peanuts in his store to know what their errand was, but was forced to content himself with the reflection that he would learn all about it the next time Dick Graham came to town.

"Now, capting," said Caleb, after they had gone a long distance down the road that led to Mr. Riley's house, "Bud's camp is off that a-way about a mile. The woods is tol'able thick, an' I don't reckon you can go through 'em in a bunch, like you be now, without scarin' him. He's got ears, Bud has. You-uns had best scatter out an' go one at a time."

"Form skirmish line, I suppose you mean."

"I don't know what you call it. Couldn't make 'em into something like a horse-shoe, could ye?"

"Certainly. Hold back the center and push the flanks forward. That's easy enough."

"Eh?" said Caleb.

"I'll make a horse-shoe, if that's what you want."

"All right. An' when you get to where his fire is, you can kinder bring the heels of the shoe in t'wards each other, an' there Bud an' Silas'll be on the inside of 'em. See?"

The captain understood, and thought it a good plan to act upon the guide's suggestion, although he could not make up his mind that he would permit his men to make prisoners of Bud and Silas. Perhaps, on the whole, it would not be safe. Good-natured, obedient Dick Graham could be easily controlled, but how about fiery Rodney Gray, angry as he undoubtedly was? The latter, quick-tempered and impatient of discipline as he was known to be, when he found himself backed by nearly all the boys in his class and company might avow a determination to take ample vengeance upon his captors; and if he so much as suggested the thing, the students were in the right mood to help him through with it.

"We don't want to make captives of those two men," said the captain, as he passed along the ranks getting the skirmish line in shape. "We'll scare them out of a year's growth and show them that they cannot fool with our boys with impunity, but that is as far as we will go. If they can get away, let them."

It took ten minutes to form the "horse-shoe" and make each boy acquainted with the signals that were to be used for his guidance, and then the order was given to advance. The woods were pitch dark, and it was a task of no little difficulty for the boys to find their way through the thick underbrush, and over the fallen logs that obstructed every foot of the mile that lay between the road and Bud Goble's camp, but they did it without making noise enough to alarm him. What they were most afraid of was that he would hear them coming and drag his prisoners away from the fire and deeper into the woods, where they could not be found until Bud had had time to wreak vengeance upon them. But they need not have borrowed any trouble on that score. If Bud Goble had had the faintest idea of the commotion his senseless act had caused among the academy boys, money would not have hired him to lay a finger upon Rodney and Dick.



At the end of an hour Captain Wilson, who was in the center of the line, came within sight of Bud's camp-fire, and the order was passed for the flanks to close upon each other. In fifteen minutes more a shrill whistle coming from the opposite side of the fire announced that the command had been obeyed, and with a charging yell, that was never surpassed by any they afterward uttered in battle, the boys sprang up and rushed for the fire. Not a bayonet had been fixed or a piece loaded that is, by orders; but some of the young soldiers had quietly driven home a cartridge while working their way through the woods, and when the signal to advance was given, they fired their muskets into the air with such effect that Bud and Silas gave themselves up for lost, and the prisoners jumped from their beds of leaves by the fire, and shouted and waved their caps to show their comrades where they were.

"Death to all Minute-men!" somebody yelled; and the cry was taken up and carried along the line with such volume that Bud's frantic appeals for "quarter" could not be heard.

In less time than it takes to write it the students crowded into the camp, and Rodney and Dick were being shaken by both hands. Their captors were so completely surprised, and so very frightened that they had not thought of their rifles, which were leaning against convenient trees. And now came the very demonstration that Captain Wilson had been afraid of. Jerking himself loose from the detaining hands of his comrades, Rodney picked up a heavy switch lying on the ground near the log that Bud had been using for a seat.

"Turn about is fair play, old fellow," said he. "You promised to use this on our backs if you did not receive the hundred dollars you said we owed you, and now we'll see—"

"Give it to him!" shouted the students, almost as one boy. "We'll stand by you. Put it on good and strong. Stand back, Captain Wilson. We don't want to go against you, but these men must have a lesson they will not forget."

Thus encouraged Rodney raised the switch, and in a second more it would have fallen with full force upon Bud's head and shoulders, had not Marcy Gray, dashing aside three or four friends who stood in his way, jumped forward and seized his cousin's arm.

"Rodney," said he, "is this your manhood?"

The angry boy glared at his cousin for an instant, and then, to the surprise of all, he lowered his arm and gave up the switch.

"You here, Marcy?" he exclaimed. "There isn't as much manhood in my whole body as there is in your little finger. Don't look at me in that way. Don't speak to me; I am beneath contempt. Goble, you're free to go, but don't come near me again."

"Yes, Goble, clear yourself," shouted Dixon, who, although he did not understand the matter at all, thought Bud had better get out of danger while the students were in the mood to let him go. "I'm about to stick the butt of my gun through the air right where you are standing, and if you're there, you'll get hurt. One—two—"

Goble turned and ran for his life, the boys dividing right and left, and jeering him loudly as he passed through their ranks.

"He's a minute-man," said one.

"Yes; and he'll get there in a good deal less than a minute," cried another. "Go faster than that, for he's close after you. Ah, He came pretty near hitting you that time! Next time you'll be a goner."

Dixon had not moved an inch from his tracks, but he had accomplished his object and sent Bud off without injury. Silas Walker must have gone about the same time, for when the boys looked around for him they could not find him.



CHAPTER XIII.

HAULING DOWN THE COLORS.

Having accomplished the work he was sent out to do, Captain Wilson shook hands with the rescued boys, who did not seem any the worse for their short experience among the members of Bud Goble's company of minute-men, and commanded the students to "fall in." Some of the boys were in favor of smashing the rifles which the two vagabonds had left behind in their hurried flight; but better counsels prevailed, and the weapons were leaned against a tree where Bud could easily find them, in case he should muster courage enough to come after them. The return march through the woods was rendered less dismal by the numerous light-wood torches that were carried along the line; but there was not much opportunity for talking until the timber had been left behind, and the ranks were closed up on the road leading to Barrington.

"Now tell us all about it," said Marcy Gray to his cousin, who marched by his side. "We know that you were enticed into a cabin to see a sick man who needed quinine, and that when you went in Bud and some others jumped out and made you prisoners. The man Bud sent to the academy after the money you and Dick promised to give him for finding that underground railroad told us about that; but what happened afterward? How did they use you?"

"We haven't a thing to complain of," replied Rodney, "except the suspense we were kept in while Judson was absent. I knew he would bring help, as well as I knew that Bud had threatened to whip us if he did not have that hundred dollars in his hands before sunrise. But I didn't think the colonel would send it. While I was in Barrington I learned from a dozen different sources that he had agreed to keep us inside, and never again interfere with anything that might happen in town."

This gave Marcy a chance to tell about the riot at the academy, but, contrary to his expectation Rodney did not seem to be very jubilant over it.

"I didn't know I had so many friends," said he, sinking his voice almost to a whisper, "and, to tell you the honest truth, I don't deserve them. You fellows ought to have stayed away until Bud gave me the licking he promised, and then come up in time to save Dick. He was in no way to blame for what I did."

"And I reckon you didn't do anything very bad," replied Marcy, with a laugh. "It was no part of our plan to let either of you be whipped. But, look here, Rodney. Why were you so anxious to see Bud Goble the last time you were in town?"

"I had put it into his head to do something to you and Dick Graham, and I wanted to stop it if I could," answered Rodney. "I tell you I was frightened when I saw those fires. I began to see what we were coming to, and I wanted to warn Goble that he was watched, and that he would surely bring trouble upon himself if he paid any attention to that letter."

"What letter?"

"Why, the one old nigger Toby told you about. I wrote it. Mean as you may think me, and as I am, I wrote it. I said to myself that I would drive you and Dick from the school, and that was the way I took to do it." Having got fairly started on the confession he had longed to make, and paying no sort of attention to his cousin's efforts to stop him, Rodney made a clean breast of the matter, and told just how far his loyalty to the Stars and Bars and his hatred for everybody who had a lingering spark of affection for the Stars and Stripes had led him. On the evening his new flag came he slipped away from his companions, ran into a store, wrote the letter that Bud afterward read to his wife, and got it into the office without any one being the wiser for what he had done. That letter sent Bud on the war-path, and encouraged him to impose upon Mr. Bailey and Elder Bowen, both of whom met his attempts in a manner so vigorous that Mr. Riley and his Committee of Safety became alarmed. They held a secret meeting, and determined upon a plan of operations which they hoped would drive Union men and abolitionists from the country, and bring the State-rights men, like Mr. Bailey, over to the Confederacy. The committee was responsible for those two fires—Rodney had heard enough from his rebel friends to make him sure of that; and they had but just begun operations, when Captain Wilson and his boys put in an appearance. That was what made Mr. Riley so angry that he would not speak to the students that night, or even look at them, and it was possible that he and the others who rode up to the academy had talked to the colonel in very plain language.

"I supposed, of course, that I would find Goble somewhere in town, and kept Dick with me because I wanted him to help with a word now and then," said Rodney, in conclusion. "He played a very slick trick on us when he sent word that that sick man was in need of medicine, and we fell into the trap as easy as you please. He was awful mad when he found that he had caught the wrong boy, that it was Marcy he wanted and not Rodney, but he hadn't forgotten the underground railroad joke, and was resolved that we shouldn't forget it, either. I didn't think Bud would be fool enough to threaten anybody with a whipping. If I had, I never would have written that letter, I assure you. If lie had whipped me for it, it would have served me right."

Marcy listened in silence to this astounding revelation, and although he was intensely grieved and shocked, he said everything he could to make Rodney understand that he was freely and fully forgiven, and that it would never be remembered against him; but Rodney refused to be comforted.

"Dick knows it, and you know it," said he. "And if the other fellows do not suspect it, they must be both blind and deaf. I don't care to stay longer about the academy where everything I see will remind me of events I should be glad to forget, and I shall start for home by the first train that leaves Barrington to-morrow. If the colonel will not let me go—"

"I don't think he will object to any of us going," replied Marcy. "During the riot, when Dixon marched us back into the armory, he said he intended to disband the whole thing at once. Matters were coming to such a pass that he couldn't and wouldn't stand it any longer."

"I hope he will stick to it," said Rodney. "We might as well have been home three months ago for all the good we've done in school. If he won't permit me to go I'll skip, if you will send my trunk after me."

Marcy said he would, provided he was there to attend to it, and then gradually led the conversation into other channels; for that letter was a sore subject to Rodney, and Marcy never wanted to hear it again. No matter what happened, it would never get to his mother's ears or Sailor Jack's either.

When the company reached the academy, after four hours' absence, they learned that the teachers had made repeated efforts to get the boys to go to bed, but without doing much toward accomplishing the desired end. They went to their dormitories as often as they were told, but leading a horse to water and making him drink are two different things. As soon as the teachers' backs were turned, they would slip out into the hall, run downstairs, and join some of the excited groups strolling about the grounds. They were all up and awake when the rescuers returned, and accompanied them into the armory; but they did not cheer them as they would like to have done. The coolheaded ones among them thought that would be carrying their triumph a little too far. When ranks were broken Marcy reported to Captain Wilson, and asked if he should go into the guard-house.

"What for?" inquired the captain.

"Have you forgotten, sir, that you put me under arrest?"

"Why did you not stay in the guard-tent when I put you there?" said the officer, with a smile.

"Because the colonel ordered me out, sir. I am glad he did so, for it gave me a chance to go with my company and see Rodney and Dick helped out of their scrape."

"Well, behave yourself in future, and we'll not say any more about your being under arrest."

Marcy knew that would be the upshot of the matter. If the captain meant to put him in arrest, he had no business to permit him to go on that expedition.

The next morning things went on in their usual haphazard way, and the colonel did not say a word about disbanding the school. He thought better of it after he had taken time to cool off; but it was not so with Rodney Gray. By allowing himself to be led away by the excitement of the hour he had done something he never could forget if he lived to be a hundred years old, and he longed to leave the academy and everybody in it behind him, and mingle with people who believed as he did, and who did not know of the meanness of which he had been guilty. And, what was very comforting as well as surprising, the colonel permitted him to go without asking any disagreeable questions.

"I don't know that I blame you," said he, in a discouraged tone. "I think I should be glad to go somewhere myself. I have been hoping almost against hope that these troubles might be settled without a war, but I don't believe they ever will be. The folks about here seem to think that the people of the North are cowardly, but they are not. They are simply patient; but there will come a time when their patience will be exhausted, and then they will sweep over us like an army of locusts."