The call for mess formation rang at last. Corporal Hal went to his place in the company line as briskly as ever.

Just as the men were passing Corporal Hyman hit Hal a clip on the shoulder.

"Buck up, old spinal trouble!" urged Hyman heartily, in a low voice. "Don't disappoint every friend and true believer you've got."

There were a few others who were openly friendly in the company mess, but Hal could force only a few mouthfuls of food and a cup of tea down his throat that night.

At a little after eight o'clock an orderly of the guard came striding into the squad room to inform Overton that Colonel North would see him at the officers' club.

Thither Hal went. When he reported he was directed to a little smoking room that stood just off the dining room. When Hal knocked and entered at command he found Colonel North there, flanked by Major Silsbee and B company's officers.

Colonel North had the accusing envelope and the note in the printed scrawl in his hand.

"Come in, Corporal," called the regimental commander. "I sent for you to inquire whether you have yet thought of any way of accounting for this envelope being in your handwriting."

"I have not, sir," Hal answered.

"Take the envelope and look at it."

Hal Overton obeyed.

"Do you think it likely, Corporal, that the writing on that envelope is a forged imitation of your own handwriting?"

"It is possible, sir, of course," Hal made frank, direct reply. "Yet, sir, I am inclined to believe that the writing is really mine."

"Hand me back the envelope. Now, go to the table over there, where you will find an envelope. Take up the pen and direct another envelope in just the words that this is addressed."

"I've done so, sir," replied Hal, a moment later.

"Now in the lower corner of the envelope write the words, 'My own writing, Overton.'"

"Yes, sir; I've done it."

"Bring the envelope to me, Corporal Overton."

Colonel North now compared the writing on the two envelopes, then passed them to the other officers present, who carefully examined these exhibits.

"The writings look identical, sir," was Captain Cortland's comment.

"Yes," agreed Major Silsbee. The other younger officers nodded.

"Corporal," went on Colonel North—and now there was a world of real sympathy in his voice as he looked at this fine young soldier—"this is a very painful happening. Some slight, surface indications are against you, but to me it looks as though some one else had hatched up the circumstances so that they would seem bound to smite you. Of course, to everyone but yourself, there is a possibility that you may be guilty. It may please you, however, to know, Corporal, that you still possess the confidence of all your officers."

"Then, sir, I thank all my officers."

"In this country, Corporal," continued Colonel North, "every man is presumed innocent until he has been proven guilty. In your own case you are not only not proven guilty, but you are not even accused. Nor, on any such evidence as we yet have before us could any accusation be made with any hope of being able to prove you guilty. I do not for a moment believe you guilty. You have too fine a record as a soldier for any such belief to find acceptance without the strongest, most positive proof."

"There is something that Captain Cortland and I have had in mind to do for you. The present time, therefore, seems an especially suitable one for showing the full measure of our confidence in you, Corporal. Of course, if any evidence came up that would sustain a charge of crime against you, then what we are thinking of doing could be very easily undone at need. Corporal Overton, at parade, to-morrow afternoon, your appointment as sergeant in B company will be announced."

Hal started, colored, then turned pale.

"I—I thank you, sir," he stammered. "But—but——"

"Well, my man?" inquired the colonel kindly.

"Pardon me, sir, but wouldn't the appointment be better made at some later date?"

"Why?" shot out Colonel North.

"I fear I may not have as much force with a squad room as a sergeant should have, sir."

"Then you will have to develop that force," replied Colonel North dryly. "It's in you, I know."

Poor Hal! At any other time this much-wanted promotion would have been hailed joyfully. Now it seemed almost like wormwood.



CHAPTER VII

BACKING THE NEW SERGEANT

"CORPORAL OVERTON, B company, is hereby appointed a sergeant in the same company, the appointment to take effect immediately. Sergeant Overton's company commander will assign him to the charge of a squad room in B company."

That was published with the orders the very next afternoon, at parade.

It came with startling suddenness to most of the men in B company. Noll was the only one who had been warned in advance, and he had held his peace.

Only one other man in the battalion had known it, and that was Grimes, the grimly silent private who sold goods in the quartermaster's store. Of Grimes, Hal had already purchased the necessary sergeant chevrons that he might have them ready.

"On dismissal of the company Sergeant Overton will at once report to me," announced Captain Cortland.

Hal, therefore, on falling out of ranks, went directly to his company commander, saluting.

"You are to have charge of the squad room next to Sergeant Hupner's," began the captain, pleasantly.

"Very good, sir."

"And now, my lad, don't feel at all down cast over some circumstances that have come up in barracks," continued the captain, resting a friendly hand on the new young sergeant's shoulder. "Take firm charge of your squad room from the outset. Force your men to respect as well as obey you. You will have all the necessary countenance of your officers. Do your duty as a soldier, as you have always done, and do not allow yourself to entertain fears of any kind."

"Thank you, sir. I shall do as you direct."

"I know it, Sergeant Overton. I have confidence in you. Now, I am going to step down to your new squad room with you."

If Hal Overton quaked just a bit as he rested his right hand on the door of the room in which he was henceforth to rule, nothing in his bearing betrayed the fact.

He threw open the door for Captain Cortland to pass in ahead of him, at the same time calling clearly:

"Squad room, attention!"

Captain Cortland strode in among his men, who, halting where they were, faced toward him and stood at attention.

"Men," called Captain Cortland, "this is your new sergeant. He will be obeyed and respected accordingly."

Then Captain Cortland turned and left the room.

Corporal Hyman, who belonged in this room, came forward at once, holding out his hand.

"Aren't you the lucky one, Sergeant!" cried Hyman. "But I'm glad you got the step up. You've won it. Well, we're all here. Fall to and reorganize us, Sergeant."

"There will have to be very little of that, I imagine, Corporal Hyman," replied the boyish young sergeant, smiling. "The room has been running all right, hasn't it?"

"So-so," laughed Corporal Hyman. "But I believe that some of these buck doughboys need a bit of jacking up."

Corporal Hyman turned, with a grinning face, toward the men. But none of them were looking that way at the moment. Every other man in the room appeared interested in some other subject than the new sergeant.

"Go for 'em," muttered Hyman grimly under his breath. "It's a shame for you to have to stand for this sort of thing, kid! Pound 'em into shape. Make 'em stand around for you."

"I will, in matters of discipline and routine, whenever necessary," Sergeant Hal answered, in an equally low voice. "But if the men don't care for me personally that's another matter. I'll never persecute any soldier just because he doesn't like me."

"It's all that cursed misunderstanding over 'Long Green,'" muttered Corporal Hyman. "Of course you can't very well make a yell about it, but I see several fights on my hands from right now on, until I've gotten these buck doughboys licked into a proper appreciation of the new boss of their squad room."

"Don't have any fights on my account, Hyman," urged Sergeant Hal.

"Well, I won't, then," came the dry retort. "I'll have a few good fights on my own account, then, for it's a personal grievance when the men turn down a man that I like."

The conversation was interrupted, at that moment, by the in-coming of First Sergeant Gray.

"I'm glad over your rise, Overton," beamed the first sergeant. "And it has come quickly. I'm here to warn you for guard duty. You'll report at guard mount to-morrow morning as sergeant of the guard."

"That does come rather speedily, doesn't it?" laughed Hal. "Who is to be officer of the day to-morrow?"

"Lieutenant Ferrers," responded Sergeant Gray gravely.

"What? The joke to be officer of the day?" exploded Corporal Hyman.

"Corporal," came the first sergeant's swift, serious rebuke, "whenever you allude to your superior officers you'll do so with the utmost respect."

"My flag's down," replied Corporal Hyman. "I surrender. But, Sergeant, is there anything in the blue book of rules against my going away in a corner for a quiet laugh."

"No," rejoined Sergeant Gray stiffly, and Hyman left them.

"Of course you understand, Sergeant Overton," went on Sergeant Gray, "that a little more than the usual responsibility will devolve upon you to-morrow. You know how new Lieutenant Ferrers is to the Army. You may be able quietly to prevent him from doing something foolish—some little hint that you can give him you know."

"I'll have my eyes open," Sergeant Hal promised.

Sergeant Gray warned two other men in the room to report for guard duty in the morning, then went to Sergeant Hupner's room to warn others. Hal turned out the squad at mess call. By this time the new young sergeant had sewed on his new chevron, the outward sign of his promotion.

Through most of the evening Hal and Hyman sat apart by one of the writing tables, chatting by themselves. Since the men had shown open dislike of the new sergeant Hal did not force himself upon them. Finally, however, the fun started by some of the men becoming altogether too rough and noisy.

"Squad room attention!" shouted Sergeant Hal, leaping to his feet. Corporal Hyman, too, jumped up.

All of the men came instantly to attention. Some of them looked merely curious, but a few glared back at their new sergeant.

"Some of you men have been more noisy and rough than is warranted by a proper sense of freedom in barracks," Hal said quietly but firmly. "Fun may go on, but all real disorder will cease at once, and not be resumed. That is all."

Hal turned to resume his seat at the table. But from three or four men in the center of the room, as they turned away, came a muffled groan.

That sign of insubordination brought the young sergeant to his feet once more in an instant. His under lip trembled slightly, but he strode in among the men.

"Men, I've something to say to you," announced the new sergeant coolly. "I intend to preserve discipline in this squad room, though I don't expect to do it like a martinet. Some of you groaned, just now, when my back was turned. Soldiers of the regular Army are men of courage. No real man fights behind another man's back. Has any man here anything that he wishes to say to my face?"

It was a tense moment. Three or four of the men looked as though tempted to "say a lot."

Sergeant Hal, his hands tightly gripped, stood facing them, waiting.

Nearly a score of feet away Corporal Hyman stood negligently by. There was nothing aggressive in his manner, but he was ready to go to the support of his sergeant.

"Has any man here anything that he wishes to say to me?" Hal repeated.

Still silence was preserved.

"Then let us have no more child's play by those who are old enough to be men twenty-four hours in a day," warned Overton crisply.

He hadn't said much, but his look, his tone and manner told the men that he was in command in that room, and that he intended to keep the command fully in his own hands.

There was no further trouble that night, though the young sergeant could not escape the knowledge that he was generally disliked here.

When guard-mounting assembly sounded at nine the next morning Sergeant Hal Overton marched the new guard on to the field.

Battalion Adjutant Wright was on hand, but Lieutenant Algy Ferrers, the new officer of the day, was absent.

The adjutant turned, scanning the ground between there and officers' row. There was no sign of Lieutenant Ferrers, and in the Army lack of punctuality, even to the fraction of a minute, is a grave offense.

"Orderly," directed Adjutant Wright, turning to a man, "go to Lieutenant Ferrers' quarters and direct him, with my compliments, to come here as quickly as he possibly can."

The orderly departed on a run. But he soon came back, alone.

"Sir, Lieutenant Ferrers is not in his quarters?"

"Not in quarters? Did you look in at the officers' club, too?"

"Yes, sir. Lieutenant Ferrers' bed was not slept in last night, so his striker told me."

Adjutant Wright fumed inwardly, though he turned to Hal to say:

"Sergeant, inspect the guard."

A little later Hal marched his new guard down to the guard house. Lieutenant Ferrers had not yet been found, and there was a storm brewing.



CHAPTER VIII

ASTONISHMENT JOLTS MR. FERRERS

IT was nearly four in the afternoon when the sentry on post number one called briskly:

"Sergeant of the guard, post number one!"

"What is it, sentry?" asked Hal, stepping briskly out of the guard house.

"Lieutenant Ferrers is approaching, Sergeant," replied the sentry, nodding his head down the road.

An auto car bowled leisurely up the road toward the main entrance to the post. In it, at the wheel, sat Lieutenant Algy Ferrers, who was supposed to be officer of the day. He was driving the one car that he had been allowed to store on post.

Algy looked decidedly tired and bored as he drove along.

"Halt the lieutenant, sentry."

"Very good, Sergeant."

Just as the lieutenant turned his car in at the gate, the sentry, instead of coming to present arms, threw his gun over to port arms, calling:

"Halt, sir. Sergeant of the guard, post number one."

Algy, with a look of astonishment on his face, slowed the car down and stopped. Sergeant Hal approached, giving him the rifle salute.

"Well, what's in the wind, Sergeant?" demanded Algy, reaching in a pocket for his cigarette case.

"I beg your pardon for stopping you, sir, but the adjutant directed me to ask you to report to him immediately upon your return, sir."

"All right; I'll drop around and see Wright as soon as I put my car up and get a bath," replied Lieutenant Algy, striking a match.

"Beg your pardon, sir; don't light that cigarette until you've driven on."

"Now how long since sergeants have taken to giving officers orders?" inquired Mr. Ferrers in very great astonishment.

"The guard always has power to enforce the rules, sir. And smoking is forbidden when addressing the guard on official business."

"Oh, I daresay you're right, Sergeant," assented Algy, dropping his match out of the car. "Very good; I'll see Wright within an hour or so."

"But the order was explicit, sir, that you are to report to the adjutant at once. If you'll pardon the suggestion, Lieutenant, I think it will be better, sir, if you drive straight to the adjutant's office."

"Oh, all right," nodded Algy indifferently. "'Pon my word, it takes a fellow quite a while to get hold of some of these peculiar Army customs. Even an officer is likely to be ordered about a good deal as though he were a dog. Eh, Sergeant?"

"I have never felt like a dog, sir, since entering the Army."

"Oh, I dare say Wright is quite proper in his order, you know. I'll go up and drop in on him right now."

Both sergeant and sentry saluted again as this very unusual officer turned on the speed and went driving lazily up to headquarters' building.

Algy Ferrers had his cigarette going by the time that he stepped leisurely into the adjutant's office.

"Some one told me you wanted to see me, Wright," began Algy.

Lieutenant Wright wheeled around briskly upon his subordinate.

"I want to see you, Mr. Ferrers, only to pass you on to the colonel. I'll tell him that you're here."

Adjutant Wright stepped into the inner office, nodding his head at the colonel, then wheeled about.

"Colonel North will see you, sir."

Algy took three quick whiffs of his cigarette, then tossed it away. He had already gained an idea that a young officer does not go into his colonel's presence smoking.

"So you're here, sir?" demanded Colonel North, looking up from his desk as Algy came to a halt before him.

"Yes; I'm here, Colonel—or most of me is. My, how seedy I feel this afternoon! Do you know, Colonel, I'm almost persuaded to cut out social——"

"Silence, Mr. Ferrers!" commanded Colonel North very coldly. "Concern yourself only with answering my questions. Yesterday afternoon you were warned that you would be officer of the day to-day."

"Bless me, so I was," assented Algy mildly.

"Yet this morning you failed to be present at guard-mount."

"Yes, sir. I'll tell you how it happened."

"Be good enough to tell me without delay."

"Colonel, did you ever hear of the Douglas-Fraziers, of Detroit?"

"Answer my question, Mr. Ferrers!"

"Or the Porterby-Masons, of Chicago?" pursued Algy calmly. "Both families are very old friends of our family. They and some others were very much interested in my being a soldier, and——"

"You being a soldier!" exploded the irate colonel under his breath.

"And so they and some others who were on their way to the coast on a special train had their train switched off at Clowdry last night. They expected to get in at eight, but it was eleven when they arrived last night. However, sir, they telephoned right up to me and tipped me off to join them at once at the Clowdry Hotel. So what could I do?"

"Eh?" quivered Colonel North, who seemed momentarily all but bereft of speech.

"What could I do, sir? Of course I couldn't turn down such old friends. Besides, there were some fine girls with the party. And it was too late, Colonel, to go waking you over the telephone, so I just went down to the quartermaster's stable and got my car out and was mighty soon in Clowdry."

"There might have been nothing very serious in that, Mr. Ferrers, had you returned in time for guard-mount this morning."

"But I simply couldn't. Don't you understand?" pleaded Algy with good-natured patience.

"No, sir! I don't understand!" thundered Colonel North. "All I understand, sir, is that you have disgraced yourself and your regiment by failing to report as the officer of the day."

"Let me explain, sir," went on Algy, with a slight wave of his hand. "When I got to the hotel the Douglas-Fraziers had ordered dinner. They were starved. I had a pretty good appetite myself. Dinner lasted until half past one. Then we had a jolly time, some of the girls singing in the hotel parlor. After they'd turned in, between three and four in the morning, the men insisted on hearing how well I was coming along in the Army."

"They did?" inquired the colonel, with an irony that was wholly thrown away on Algy.

"Yes, sir. And then we sat down to play cards. First thing we knew it was ten in the morning. Then we had breakfast, and the ladies got downstairs before the meal was over. The Douglas-Frazier train couldn't pull out until three thirty this afternoon. So, after they'd gone to so much trouble to see me, and had put up such a ripping time for me, of course I had to stay in town to see them off."

"Naturally," assented Colonel North with fine sarcasm.

"I am glad you understand it, Colonel, and so there's not a bit of harm done, after all. I'm an ignoramus about guard duty, anyway, and I'll wager the guard got on better without me, after all. And now, Colonel, since I've given you a wholly satisfactory explanation as to why I simply couldn't be here to-day, if you've nothing more to say to me, sir, I'll go to my quarters, get into my bath and then tumble into bed, for I'm just about dead for slee——"

Colonel North rose fiercely, looking as though he were threatened with an attack of apoplexy.

"Stop all your idiotic chatter, Mr. Ferrers, and listen to me with whatever little power of concentration you may possess. Your conduct, sir, has been wholly unfitting an officer and a gentleman. If I did my full duty I'd order you in arrest at once, and have you brought to trial before a general court-martial. You have visited upon yourself a disgrace that you can't wipe out in a year. You have—but what's the use? You wouldn't understand!"

"I'm a little dull just now, sir," agreed Algy. "But after a bath and a long night's sleep I'll be as fresh as ever."

"You'll have neither bath nor sleep!" retorted the colonel testily. "You'll go to your quarters and get into your uniform without a moment's delay. You'll be back here in fifteen minutes, or I'll order you in arrest. And you'll finish out your tour of guard duty. You'll be on duty and awake, sir, until the old guard goes off to-morrow morning. More, you'll remain all that time at the guard house, so that the sergeant of the guard can be sure that you are awake."

"Good heavens!" murmured Algy.

"Further, Mr. Ferrers, until further orders, you will not step off the limits of the post without express permission from either myself or Major Silsbee. Now, go to your quarters, sir—and don't dare to be gone more than fifteen minutes."

Lieutenant Prescott, hearing some one move in Mr. Ferrers' rooms, looked in inquiringly.

"Oh, but I'm in an awful hurry. I've got to get back to that beastly colonel," explained Algy.

"Beastly? Colonel North is a fine old brick!" retorted Prescott indignantly.

"Well, he has an—er—most peculiar temper at times," insisted Algy. "Why, he seemed positively annoyed because I had obeyed the social instinct and had gone away to meet old friends of our family."

"Have you any idea what you did to-day?" demanded Lieutenant Prescott. "Ferrers, you've been guilty of conduct that is sufficient to get an officer kicked out of the service for good and all."

"And just between ourselves," sputtered Algy, "I don't believe the officer would lose much by the operation. Have you any idea of the social importance of the Douglas-Fraziers and of the——"

"Oh, hang the Douglas-Fraziers and all their works," uttered Prescott disgustedly. "Algy, are you ever going to become a soldier?"

"You're as bad as the colonel!" muttered Ferrers. "What the Army needs is a little more exact understanding of social life and its obligations."

"Let me help you on with your sword," interrupted Prescott dryly. "You're getting it tangled up between your legs."

"I'm excited, that's why," returned Ferrers. "It all comes of having a colonel who understands nothing of the social life. There; now I'm ready, and I must get away on the bounce."

"I'll walk along with you and explain the nature of your offense of to-day, if you don't mind," proposed Prescott.

Algy Ferrers reported at Colonel North's office and soon came out.

"Now I'm off," cried Ferrers gayly, as he came out again.

"I don't believe you've ever been anything else but 'off,'" murmured Prescott, as he stood in front of headquarters and watched Algy, who was actually walking briskly.

As Lieutenant Prescott stood there Colonel North came out. The younger officer wheeled, saluting respectfully.

"Mr. Prescott, if you've nothing important on this evening, will you drop down to the guard house for a little while? You may be able to prevent Mr. Ferrers from doing something that will compel me to resort to almost as strong measures as I would adopt with a really responsible being."

"Yes, sir; I'll pay Mr. Ferrers a visit soon after dinner."

"Of course, the young man has to break in at guard duty some time," continued the regiment's commander. "But I am very glad to know that young Overton is sergeant of the guard to-night. He will prevent anyone from stealing the guard house!"

"I rather think Sergeant Overton would, sir. He's pretty young, but he's an all-around soldier."

"I wish," muttered the colonel, as he turned to stride toward his own quarters, "that Overton were the lieutenant and Mr. Ferrers the sergeant. Then I could reduce Ferrers and get the surgeon to order him into hospital!"



CHAPTER IX

PRIVATE HINKEY DELIVERS HIS ANSWER

THANKS to a most capable sergeant of the guard, Lieutenant Algy got through his balance of the tour of guard duty without setting the post on fire.

There was no rest, however, for the irresponsible young lieutenant.

For three successive mornings Ferrers had to grub hard at drill, with Lieutenant Prescott standing by to coach him.

Then, on the fourth morning, Lieutenant Algy was ordered out to take A Company on a twenty-mile hike over rough country.

"Sergeant Reed knows the whole route and will be a most capable guide, Mr. Ferrers," explained Captain Ruggles. "We shall look for you to be back by five o'clock this afternoon. Don't use your men too hard. Now, I'll stand by to see you start the company."

With a brave determination to show how worthy he was of trust, Lieutenant Algy stepped briskly over to A Company, which rested in ranks in platoon front. Drawing his sword, he commanded:

"Attention!"

Thereupon he put the company through half a dozen movements of the manual of arms, next marching the company away in column of fours. The regulars, of course, responded like clockwork. They made a fine appearance as they started off under their freakish second lieutenant. Ere they had gone far Ferrers swung them into column of twos at the route step.

"He's doing that almost well," muttered Captain Ruggles under his breath. "I believe the young cub is trying to be a soldier, after all."

It still lacked much of two in the afternoon when Captain Ruggles, leaving his quarters, saw his company marching back.

"Gracious! How did the youngster ever get the men over the ground in this time?" wondered Captain Ruggles, glancing at his watch. "And he hasn't used the company up, either. The men move as actively as though they had just come from bed and a bath."

Captain Ruggles walked rapidly over toward barracks. Lieutenant Ferrers threw his company into column of platoons, faced them about and brought the men to a halt. Then he wheeled about, saluting Captain Ruggles.

"Any further orders, sir?" inquired Algy.

"No, Lieutenant. Dismiss the company."

As soon as the men had started barrackwards, Captain Ruggles asked the lieutenant:

"How did you manage it, Ferrers, to bring the men back in such fine condition and so early in the day?"

"Just a matter of good judgment, Captain," beamed Algy.

"What do you mean?"

"I changed the orders a bit, sir, to meet the conditions that I discovered."

"Conditions?"

"Yes, Captain. The day proved to be extremely warm. I marched the men for about six miles; it may have been nearer seven. Curiously enough, Sergeant Reed and I disagreed on that point. He said we had gone about a mile and a half."

"Well? What next?"

"Why, sir, I found it so warm that I couldn't march with any comfort at all. Now, I don't believe an officer should expect his men to go where he isn't willing to go himself, and as for myself I didn't want to go any further. So I halted the company and——"

"And——"

"Why, Captain," smiled Lieutenant Ferrers, "I just let the men enjoy themselves under the trees until it was time to have their dinner on the field rations they'd taken along."

"And then?"

"Why, then, sir, I marched them back here. I'll take them out again some day when the weather is cooler, and——"

Captain Ruggles acted a good deal like a man who is about to lose his temper.

"Mr. Ferrers," came his rasping order, "go to your rooms! Remain there until you hear from Colonel North, Major Silsbee or myself."

"Why, what on earth have I done now?" gasped the astonished young man.

"Go to your rooms, sir!"

"Now, what ails good old Ruggles? Isn't the Army the queerest old place on the map of the moon?"

Within fifteen minutes Algy Ferrers, sitting back in an easy chair in his quarters, glancing out of a window with a look of absolute boredom, received a telephone call.

"Colonel North's compliments, and will you come to his house at once?" was the brief message.

"Now, I shouldn't wonder if old Ruggles had forgotten to mind his own business," muttered Algy disconsolately, as he reached for his fatigue cap.

"Mr. Ferrers," was the colonel's stern greeting, "every day your conduct becomes more incomprehensible!"

"And every day, sir, I might say," retorted the young man pleasantly, "the Army becomes harder to understand. I don't wish to be guilty of any impertinence, sir, but wouldn't it be well to have a law enacted that officers from civil life should be appointed wholly from clerks, who have learned how to keep office hours and never do any thinking for themselves?"

"There might be some advantage in that plan, Mr. Ferrers," replied the colonel grimly. "And I can't help feeling that you would give infinitely more satisfaction here if you had first been trained a bit in one of your father's many offices. I don't suppose you have the least idea, sir, of what a grave offense you have committed to-day?"

"I expected to be praised, sir," replied Algy almost testily, "for having been highly humane to the men under my command."

"Humane!" exploded Colonel North. "Bah! Mr. Ferrers, do you imagine that our regulars are so many weaklings, that they have to come in when it rains, or stay in when the sun shines? Bah! You have been guilty of gross disobedience of orders, and you are an officer, sir—supposed to be engaged in teaching obedience to enlisted men. That is all, sir—you may go to your quarters!"

By the time that young Mr. Ferrers reached his own quarters he found Lieutenant Prescott there, though the latter did not say a word about Colonel North having ordered him to make the call.

Algy immediately started in upon what was, for him, a furious tirade.

"Do you know, dear chap," he wound up, "I can't always understand a man like old Papa North. Sometimes I think he's just a beast!"

But Prescott's laughing advice was:

"Hold yourself in, Ferrers; your hoops are cracked."

"Bah!" stormed Lieutenant Algy. "An Army post is a crazy place for a fellow to go when looking for sympathy or reason."

In the meantime A Company's men had spread the joke through enlisted men's barracks.

"What's the use!" growled Private Hinkey to a group of private soldiers. "Ferrers is just a plumb fool, and all the colonels in the world can't ever make anything else of him. Ferrers is a born idiot!"

Sergeant Hal Overton paused just at the edge of the group.

"Hinkey," the boyish non-com. observed dryly, "if that's your opinion, you'll show a lot of wisdom and good sense in keeping it to yourself."

"Oh, you shut up!" sneered Hinkey. "No one spoke to you. Move on. Your opinions are not wanted here."

Words cannot convey the intent in Hickey's words, though it was plain enough to all who stood near by.

Hinkey plainly sought to convey that no man in barracks had any use for Sergeant Overton, a man as good as convicted of having robbed Private William Green.

Nor did Hal, by any means, miss the intended slur. Yet he was above taking up any quarrel on personal grounds.

"Hinkey," rebuked the young sergeant, "you're not answering a non-commissioned officer with the proper amount of respect."

"What's the use?" jeered the ugly soldier. "I don't feel any."

"Silence, my man!"

"Then since you're putting on airs just because of your chevrons, you'd better set an example of silence yourself. Then your lesson will wash down all the better."

The other soldiers in the group took no part in the conversation. They did not attempt to "show sides," but Sergeant Hal knew that they were looking on and listening with keen interest.

It would never do for this boy who was a sergeant to "back down" before such an affront, both to himself and to good discipline.

"He's trying to make me mad, so that I'll make it seem like a personal affair," thought Hal Overton swiftly. "I'll keep cool and fool the fellow!"

Hinkey, after glaring defiantly and contemptuously at the young sergeant, turned on his heel and started away.

"Halt, there, my man!" ordered Sergeant Hal coolly, yet at the same time sternly.

Hinkey kept on as though he had not heard.

Without an instant's hesitation, his manner still cool but his face white and set, Sergeant Overton leaped after his man, laying a hand heavily on the private's shoulder.

"I halted you, my man!"

"Did you?" said Hinkey. "I didn't hear it."

With that, he slipped out from under Hal Overton's detaining grasp, turned his back and once more started onward.

"Careful there, Hinkey!" called one of the soldiers warningly.

But the sullen soldier was now beyond any sense of caution.

As Hal again grabbed him, this time with both hands, and swinging him about, Hinkey thrust his face menacingly close to Overton's.

"What do you want, Overton? Maybe I've got it."

"Attention!"

"I'm listening," growled Hinkey, his whole carriage slouching.

"Stand at attention!"

"Hinkey, you're wholly disrespectful and insubordinate!"

Out of the corner of his eye the soldier saw his late companions silently drawing nearer.

"If I'm disrespectful, I'm disrespectful to nothing!" he retorted derisively.

Then he added with more insulting directness:

"Or to less than nothing!"

"Hinkey, are you going to stand at attention and be silent until I'm through with you?"

"No!"

Again he tried to free himself from the boyish sergeant's grasp, but this time he found it harder than he had expected.

"Stand at attention, man!"

"I'll see you in Tophet first! And take your hands off of me, unless you want to start trouble at once!"

"Hinkey, you are making a fearful mistake in forgetting yourself! I'll give you this one chance to come to your senses."

"And if you don't take your hands off of me you'll lose your senses—if you ever had any!"

Hal's answer was to tighten his grip until the other winced. Then Private Hinkey delivered his answer. Suddenly wrenching himself free, by the exercise of his full strength, he let his fist fly at Sergeant Overton's face.



CHAPTER X

SERGEANT OVERTON AND DISCIPLINE

JUST how it all happened Private Hinkey was never afterwards able to figure out to his own satisfaction.

Instead of his blow landing, the soldier found himself on his own back on the grass—and he fell with a bump that jarred him.

"You chevroned cur! I'll make you eat that blow!" yelled Hinkey, beside himself with rage.

Then he leaped to his feet, fairly quivering with the great passion that had seized him.

"Slosson! Kelly! Take hold of Hinkey! He's under arrest," announced the boyish sergeant.

Hinkey made a dive at Hal, but the two soldiers, hearing themselves summoned, and knowing the penalties of disobedience, threw themselves between the sulky brute and the sergeant.

"Let me at him!" screamed Hinkey, struggling with the two comrades who now held him.

"Be silent, you fool!" warned Slosson. "You'll get yourself in stiff before you know what you're about."

"What do I care?" panted Hinkey. "The cur coward! He doesn't dare face me."

"If the sergeant came at ye once wid his fists, ye'd know better—as soon as ye knew anything," jeered Private Kelly.

"The sarge is a scrapper—few like him in 'ours' when he turns himself loose," supplemented Slosson.

"Then let go of me, and let the cur turn himself loose," pleaded Hinkey, fighting furiously with his captors. "Let him show me if he dares."

Into such a passion was he working himself that Hinkey seemed likely to tear himself away from the two soldiers who sought to restrain him.

But Hal had sense enough to keep his own hands out of the affair.

"Meade, get in there and help," he directed.

Then, with Hinkey growing rapidly angrier and putting forth more strength, there was battle royal.

When it was over Hinkey had a bleeding nose, a cut lip, one eye closed and his uniform all but torn from him.

But he panted and surrendered, at last—a prisoner.

"What's this all about, Sergeant Overton?" demanded First Sergeant Gray, hastening to the spot.

"I've placed Hinkey under arrest, Sergeant, for disrespectful speech against an officer, for disrespectful answers to myself and for insubordination."

"You wouldn't act without strong cause, I know, Sergeant Overton," replied First Sergeant Gray. "Hustle Private Hinkey down to the guard house, then."

"Forward with him, men," ordered Hal.

Hinkey would have started the fight all over again, but he realized the weight of discipline and numbers, and felt that it would give his enemy too much satisfaction.

So, with much growling and many oaths, Hinkey submitted to being marched down to the guard house.

To the sergeant of the guard Hal explained the charge. The sergeant of the guard promptly sent for Lieutenant Hayes, of C Company, who was officer of the day.

Mr. Hayes listened attentively to the charge preferred by Sergeant Overton. Hinkey, too, who was behind a barred door in one of the cells, listened with darkening brow.

"It's all rot!" raged the arrested soldier. "It's all a personal matter, and Overton has vented his spite on me."

"Silence, my man!" ordered Lieutenant Hayes sternly. "And when you refer to Sergeant Overton, call him by his title."

"I won't shut up until I've had my say!" raged Private Hinkey, gripping with both hands the bars of the cell door. "Lieutenant——"

"Silence, or you'll have disrespectful language to the officer of the day added to the other charges against you," warned Lieutenant Hayes, stepping over to the cell door. "Not another word out of you, Hinkey."

In the old days the prisoner would have been locked up until the next general court-martial convened. But in these newer days the plan is to have as many offenses as possible tried before summary court.

A summary court consists of one officer, who must, when practicable, be of field officer's rank.

So, at nine the next morning, Private Hinkey was arraigned before Major Silsbee. All the necessary witnesses were there, too.

Hinkey, of course, claimed that it had all been an affair of personal spite on the part of Sergeant Overton.

This claim Hinkey was given a fair opportunity to prove, but he failed to do so.

"I commend Sergeant Overton for his soldierly attitude in the matter," declared Major Silsbee when summing up. "Sergeant Overton behaved with an amount of decision and of moderation that is remarkable in so young a non-commissioned officer. Sergeant Overton thereby demonstrated his fitness to command men. Private Hinkey's conduct, from start to finish, as testified to by the witnesses, was gross and indefensible. Such conduct in a soldier of the regular Army is nothing short of disgraceful."

Then followed the sentence.

For disrespectful allusions to Lieutenant Ferrers, uttered in the presence of other enlisted men, Private Hinkey was sentenced to forfeit fifteen dollars of his pay. For disrespect and insubordination, as evinced toward Sergeant Overton, and for resisting arrest, he was fined twenty-five dollars more of his pay.

Thus Private Hinkey would be obliged to work for the United States for nothing during nearly the next three months of his service.

Further, he was sentenced to one week's confinement at the guard house, and to perform fatigue labor on the post.

Then, still under guard, Hinkey was marched back to the guard house.

His sentence, which, of course, the fellow regarded as tyranny pure and simple, filled his heart with black hatred against the boyish sergeant. At first sight it may seem strange, but the outcome of the whole affair was to raise Hal Overton considerably in the esteem of his comrades at Fort Clowdry.

As his service in the Army lengthens the soldier acquires a trained sense of justice.

A non-commissioned officer is never allowed to lay hands in anger on any man beneath him in rank, save to restrain a drunken or crazy man, or in defense of himself or of another non-com. or officer.

But Hinkey had struck at Hal, and the latter, had he been so inclined, would have been justified in leaping upon the private and beating him into submission. Instead, he had ordered disinterested soldiers to bring about the submission and the arrest.

More, Major Silsbee's comments on the case had been repeated by the witnesses to other comrades in barracks.

A soldier soon comes to realize, if he is a reasonable man, that his officers always endeavor to work out impartial justice. Therefore, Major Silsbee's comments had greatly strengthened Hal's reputation among his soldier comrades.

This does not mean that all suspicion against Sergeant Overton was forgotten, but the men now remembered that Hinkey had been the most active and bitter poisoner of minds against Hal. So, now, reaction had its natural effect—somewhat in Hal Overton's favor.

The fourth day of Hinkey's imprisonment Sergeant Hal had charge of the guard that controlled the seven prisoners, in all, who were now working out guard house terms.

Hinkey now managed to come close to the young sergeant in command of the fatigue party.

"You may think you've won out," growled Private Hinkey.

"My man," spoke Hal almost kindly, "I've no desire to see you get into more trouble. Attend to your fatigue duty!"

"You may think you've won out," repeated Hinkey. "But wait!"



CHAPTER XI

WHEN HINKEY WON GOOD OPINIONS

GREAT news came to Fort Clowdry these days.

All summer the War Department had been considering the advisability of holding a military tournament at Denver. An enormous religious organization of young people of both sexes was to hold its convention in that city.

In the same week two great secret societies were also to hold annual meetings in Denver.

Thus there would be an unusually large crowd in this handsome, hustling city of the Rockies.

The War Department, in its efforts to conduct the Army like any other great business enterprise, occasionally "advertises" in the way of holding a military tournament.

These tournaments, at which seats are provided for many thousands of spectators, show in graphic splendor the work of all the different branches of the military service.

It is the experience of the War Department that each tournament, if held under conditions that will draw a huge crowd of spectators, always results in a rush of the most desirable recruits for the Army.

Soldiers always take a keen interest in these tournaments. It means to them the excitement of travel and change, and the prospect of winning applause that is so dear to the average human heart.

It also means, for men of known good conduct, a welcome amount of leave to wander about the big city on the outskirts of which the tournament is held. There are many other reasons why men of the Regular Army always welcome these affairs.

All four of the companies at Fort Clowdry were to go to Denver, save for a detail of ten men from each company, who were to be left behind to guard government property at the fort.

"Hinkey," announced Captain Cortland, meeting that sullen soldier, "I don't suppose you have figured on being allowed to go to Denver with your company."

"I suppose, sir, that I'm slated for the post guard," replied Hinkey, saluting.

"My man, you've recently been guilty of conduct grossly unbecoming a soldier. But you've served your guard house period, and you'll be busy, for many weeks yet to come, in working out the fines imposed against you. For breaches of discipline it is the intent of the authorities to provide sufficient punishment. It is not, however, the purpose to keep on punishing a man. You may be glad, therefore, to know that you are to be allowed to go to Denver with your company."

"Thank you, sir; I am glad," replied Private Hinkey, saluting very respectfully.

"Then look carefully to your conduct until the time comes to start," admonished Captain Cortland.

"Thank you, sir. I most certainly shall."

Then, as he watched the back of Captain Cortland, a peculiarly disagreeable smile came to Hinkey's lips.

"Oh, yes, I'll be careful!" he muttered. "And I am glad of the chance—far more glad than you can guess, Cap. A trip like this will give me ten times the chance I'd have here at Clowdry to get even with that cheeky young kid sergeant, Overton!"

Thereafter Hinkey fairly dreamed of the military journey that was so near at hand.

All was bustle and activity on the military reservation. Soldiers taking part in a military tournament require almost as many "properties" and "stage settings" as are needed by a big theatrical company.

For the tournament is, actually and purposely, a big theatrical display. It is intended to show all the excitement, snap and glamour of the soldier's life and his deeds of high skill and great daring.

Then came the day when the battalion, with drum-major and band at its head, marched away with colors bravely flying, and boarded the train at the little, nearby station.

The train left soon after nine in the morning.

Private Hinkey was greatly disappointed at this. He had hoped that the command might travel by night. He had dreamed of catching Sergeant Hal on a platform, and of hurling him from the moving car without his crime being seen of other eyes.

"But no matter!" muttered the brute to himself. "I know the programme at the tournament, and there'll be a lot of chances—more than I can use, as I need but one!" the sullen fellow finished grimly under his breath.

It was late in the afternoon when the train was shunted upon a siding not far from the great ball grounds on which the tourney was to be held. There was no crowd here as yet, and no crashing of brass or flourish of trumpets. The battalion, at route step, moved into the grounds. Here ranks were broken and arms stacked. Then, by detachments, each under an officer, or non-commissioned officer, the men were hustled off to attend to an enormous amount of swift, skilful labor.

At one far-end of the grounds the full-sized Army tents were erected, with cook tents, mess and hospital tents, and all, for the men were to live comfortably in the brief time that they were to be here.

Engineer and cavalry troops were already on the field, the engineers having arrived first of all, in order to lay the grounds out for the work in hand. Artillery and Signal Corps men, and a small detachment of ordnance troops, were due to arrive before dark.

By supper time the hard-worked soldiers had some right to feel tired. It was not until nine in the evening that the men were through for that day. Then a few of the men of best conduct were given passes to leave camp and visit Denver until midnight.

Private Hinkey was not one of these men. He did not even want to go, for he had worked like a beaver, and was thoroughly tired out. It had seemed, since reaching the grounds, as though Hinkey had been determined to show how good and industrious a soldier he could be.

"That man is working to reinstate himself in the good conduct grade," remarked Lieutenant Hampton, calling Hinkey's tireless industry to Captain Cortland's attention.

"Then he'll have all the chance he wants," replied the captain. "We don't want to keep any man down, or to give him a dog's name—with apologies to the dog."

As Hinkey had been in a service detachment under Overton's command Hal felt it but just to say to the fellow:

"Hinkey, you've worked harder and more attentively than any man in this detachment."

"Thank you, Sergeant; I've tried to," replied the fellow, with such well-pretended respect that Sergeant Hal almost fell over.

"I almost think I've misjudged the man in thinking him one of our worst," Overton told himself.

It had been well for the boyish young sergeant had he been but a trifle more suspicious of such sudden reform on his enemy's part!

At five in the morning, or almost an hour earlier than usual, every officer and man in this temporary camp was routed out from under his blankets by the sharp, stirring notes of first call to reveille.

Breakfast was hurriedly disposed of, and the simple duties of ordinary "camp police" performed by the time that it was fully light.

And now more labor, for the stage settings must be arranged, that they might all be moved swiftly into place as the need came.

It was noon when the men finished. Then mess call, or "come and get it," as the soldiers facetiously term it, was sounded over the camp, and officer and man alike hastened to the well-earned midday meal.

"We ought to have a huge crowd," spoke Corporal Noll Terry, at camp table.

"We ought to, but we won't," predicted Sergeant Hupner.

"Why not, Sergeant?"

"You didn't take a pass to go to town, last night?"

"No."

"I did."

"Well, Sergeant?"

"The town is billed from one end to another with posters of the show," continued Hupner.

"Meaning our tournament?"

"No, Terry. Of course, our show is billed, too, but the show I'm alluding to is Howe and Spangleton's Great Combined Circuses."

"Are they showing in Denver to-day?" asked Sergeant Overton.

"Yes, siree," replied Hupner, with emphasis. "And you know what these western towns are when a truly big circus works this far west. The circus will be selling standing-room at double prices, and this show of ours will be performed to two or three hundred small kids whose hearts are broken because they didn't have the price of a circus ticket."

"We ought to have had some other date in the week, then," spoke up another man at table.

"Oh," grimaced Hupner, "the War Department thinks a whole lot of its regulars, of course, so I don't suppose any one over at Washington could picture the troops being called upon to show their best work to empty benches that would hold twenty thousand spectators."

That same news, and that same impression had reached the artillery, the cavalry, the ordnance detachment, the engineers and the men of the Signal Corps. The officers, likewise, shook their heads. All were greatly disappointed to think that the Army had to compete with the sawdust, the tinsel, the gay music and the dash and whoop-la of the circus.

Yet one man in this Regular Army encampment felt wholly satisfied with himself.

That man was Private Hinkey.

He knew the programme of the tournament, and the secret of this sullen wretch's great industry was known at least to himself.

"I've got it all fixed to rid the regiment of that kid sergeant," the brute in uniform exulted to himself. "Exit Kid Overton from the Thirty-fourth!"



CHAPTER XII

HAL RIDES INTO TREACHERY

AT one-thirty the gates of the ball grounds were thrown open.

A long programme lay before the assembled regulars, so the tournament was to begin at two o'clock.

The same performance was to be repeated in the evening, under brilliant electric lighting.

As they left the camp tables, however, the men moved about rather dejectedly.

The unexpected competition with the big circus had spoiled their hopes of winning round after round of delighted applause from huge crowds.

Yet barely were the gates to the grounds open when the soldiers began to take notice.

In an instant after opening there was a big rush at the gates. Men and women, boys and girls, crowded and jostled to get into the grounds.

"They'll stop coming in two minutes, at this rate," grumbled Sergeant Hupner.

Yet he proved a poor prophet. By quarter of two nearly every one of the more than twenty thousand seats for spectators had been filled. Five minutes after that not a seat could be had, even by squeezing. Just before two o'clock ten thousand more spectators had crowded in, standing wherever they could find the space.

Outside the crowd still pressed. Thousands simply had to be turned away.

Every officer present now wore a quiet smile that hid his delight under an orderly appearance.

"I wonder if the circus has a crowd like this?" gasped Sergeant Hupner, his astonished gaze roving over the densely packed masses of humanity.

An artillery band was playing at its loudest and gayest.

"I wonder," repeated Sergeant Hupner, "if the circus is playing to a crush like this."

No; it wasn't. Over under the Howe and Spangleton big-top, with its plain and reserved seats for eighteen thousand people, consternation prevailed.

The Army had proved the winning attraction for Denver's amusement-seeking crowds!

Only some eleven hundred and fifty people had paid to see the afternoon performance at the circus. In chagrin, the management hurriedly passed in free some two hundred more loungers on the lot.

"I never even dreamed of a streak of luck like this!" grumbled Proprietor Howe to his partner, Spangleton.

"I hope we'll never meet it again. What has struck us this blow under the belt?"

"The confounded regular Army," growled Howe. "I've just telephoned over, and I hear that folks are packed in so tightly at the Army show that the people are able to breathe only half the usual number of times to the minute."

"Then they'll hit us just as bad to-night," growled Spangleton. "Howe, with the Army to play against, we'd save money by pulling down our tents now and striking the rails for the next stand."

Just a minute or so before two o'clock the artillery band left the bandstand and marched back to camp.

Now, all in an instant, the military parade formed.

At the head was the cavalry band, followed by a squadron (two troops or companies) of splendidly mounted fighting men, their accoutrements jingling.

As the cavalry, its band blaring joyously, passed out before the people, the Signal Corps men followed on foot. Now the artillery, preceded by a mounted band that was just now silent, swung into line. Right behind the artillery, with its men perched up on the seats, their arms folded, or else driving the horses from saddles, came more men on foot, the ordnance detachment.

Now a third band, the Thirty-fourth's, marched on to the scene, silent, like the artillery musicians. After the third band in the line came the first battalion of the Thirty-fourth—at its head Colonel North and Major Silsbee, with their respective staffs, all on horseback. And now behind them marched, with the precise, easy rhythm of the foot soldier, the four companies, A, B, C and D, all moving like so many fine, automatic, easy-jointed machines.

The mounted detachments had brought forth rounds of rousing applause as they swept by, but when the infantrymen—the real, solid, fighting wall of the Army came in view, its men moving with the perfectly gaited, steady whump, whump! of superbly marching men, the spectators began to yell in frantic earnest.

The cavalry band ceased its stirring strain. Instantly the mounted drum major of the artillery swung about on his horse, holding up his baton, then bringing it down with the signal, "play."

As the artillery band blazed forth in a glory of rousing melody the noise of people's feet increased.

By the time that the infantry marched past the central portion of the great mass of civilians it was the turn of the Thirty-fourth's band. Every spectator, nearly, was now standing, stamping, waving. Cheer after cheer went up.

It seemed as though human enthusiasm could not know greater bounds. Faint echoes must have reached the distant, nearly empty circus big-top. Yet the breathless thousands had caught, as yet, but the first tame pageantry of this glimpse of the glory of armed men.

Just before B company, as it swung along at the good old regular gait, one excited onlooker hurled a well-filled wallet—the only sign left him for showing his utter enthusiasm.

File after file of foot soldiers stepped over this wallet, yet, if one of the infantrymen knew it was there, not one of them let any sign escape him. Discipline was absolutely perfect. These marching men of rifle and bayonet swept on, heads up, eyes straight forward, every file in flawless, absolute alignment.

And so the wallet was passed over and left behind while the crowd, staring at this unexpected scene of soldierly discipline, went wilder than before, in a frantic acclaim that was granted from the soul.

A policeman, standing at the edge of the crowd, picked up the wallet, returning it to its somewhat disappointed owner.

When the parade had swept around the field, each band playing in its turn, the crowd settled back with a sigh, as though satisfied that the greatest sight on the programme had been witnessed.

Yet hardly was there a pause. A troop of cavalry came forward, now, at the trot. All the evolutions of the school of the troop, mounted, were now gone through with. All the swift, bewildering changes of the cavalryman's manual of arms were exhibited.

Single riders and squads exhibited some of the prettiest work of the cowboy, for the American cavalryman has learned his riding and his daring from the best work of generations of cowboys.

Men rode two, and then three horses, at once, standing on bareback and leaping their animals over gates, ditches and hedges.

Down at the far end of the wheel a squad of cavalrymen halted, dismounted, unlimbered their carbines, and began firing at a squad of cavalrymen who galloped toward them from the other extremity of the field. Three of the men fired upon toppled and fell from their saddles to the dust with wonderful realism, while startled "ohs!" came from the eager onlookers.

Just behind this detachment rode more cavalrymen at the gallop. Three of these men, without seeming effort, swung down from their saddles, while their mounts still galloped, picked up the "dead or wounded," and then these horses, guided by their riders, wheeled and made fast time with the mock "casualties" to the rear.

It was a wonderful sight. Now, the audience began to come somewhere near its actual limits of enthusiasm.

Other yet more wonderful feats of skill and precision by the cavalry followed. Ere the "yellow-legs" had retired, momentarily, from the field of display, every small boy in the crowd—and many a large one—had decided that the life of the trooper must be his.

Then the flying artillery came on to the field, amid clouds of dust, the urgings of drivers, the sharp commands of officers and the pealing commands of bugles. For the first time in their lives the spectators realized how like lightning the American artillery moves, and how speedily it gets into deadly action. It was a pity that none of the fine marksmanship with the field cannon could be shown. The audience had to be satisfied with salvo after salvo fired with blank cartridges at imaginary enemies.

Then next the scene swiftly changed to a well-simulated one of battle, in which all arms engaged. "Under heavy fire" the engineers threw a bridge swiftly across a wide ditch representing a stream. While this was going on Signal Corps men laid wires and had telephone and telegraph instruments in operation from the firing line to the rear.

More of it came when the squadron of cavalry, at one end of the field, and backed by the signal and ordnance detachments, now bearing rifles, impersonated a hostile advance, firing volleys and "at will" at the artillery and infantry, posted to repulse them.

It took the breath of the spectators away. For now they gazed upon the grim realities of war, save for the actual deaths and manglings which all knew must follow such fierce firing when done in reality.

It was some minutes afterward before the smoke cleared away from over the field sufficiently to allow all to see the next spectacles. But all onlookers now felt the need of a brief rest from such sensations.

There were a host of features to the rousing programme, and not a spectator but thrilled and throbbed, and thanked his lucky stars that he was here, at the show, the spectacle of a lifetime!

Feature after feature followed, in a swiftly-moving, tightly-packed programme lasting three hours. The riot drill, showing with vivid effect how a battalion of regular infantry can move through a densely packed mob, brought forth tumultuous cheers. When the cheering had subsided such shouts as these were offered by excited spectators:

"Bring your anarchists here to-night, and show them this!"

"Never get into a riot unless you go with the regulars!"

It was truly an Army afternoon. All such afternoons are, for the average American knows truly nothing about his own Army. When he sees it actually at work he becomes, for the time at least, an "Army crank."

There were many features in which only one, or a few men, figured importantly. One of these was now about to be offered. On the programme it bore the title, "the bicycle dispatch rider."

No name was set opposite this title, but the man who had been selected for the work was Sergeant Hal Overton.

At the far side of the field the scene had been arranged. It represented a hill road, over which the dispatch bearer must ride at breakneck speed. For picturesque purposes Hal wore a surgeon's field case, hanging over one shoulder by a strap. In actual war time his real dispatches would have been hidden somewhere in his clothing, his shoes, or what-not place of concealment.

Of a sudden the Thirty-fourth's band turned loose into a dashing gallop played at faster time than usual. It was the signal for Sergeant Hal to mount his wheel and ride as for life.

Something in the speed, the dash, the evident purpose of the young soldier caught the hearts of the spectators as soon as Hal started. He had not gone fifty yards on his way before the cheering once more burst forth.

At the outset were some little gaps in the path, representing brooks and rills. Over these Sergeant Hal sped as if they did not exist, while little upward spurts of water helped out the illusion.

Ahead of the young military bicyclist now appeared a plain fence, some four feet high. Hal Overton rode at this with all the speed his flying feet could impart to the pedals. He appeared bent on violent collision with the fence.

Indeed, he rode at the palings as though he could not stop. Yet, when almost in the act of collision, Sergeant Hal made a flying leap from his wheel, which he tossed over the fence. In two incredibly swift movements he was over the fence. His wheel hardly seemed to have fallen at all, so swiftly did the young sergeant have it going again. He made a flying leap to the saddle, and was again pedaling desperately, while five or six shots to the rear filled out the illusion of a dispatch bearer being pursued by enemies.

That trick at the fence instantly took hold of the younger male portion of the audience. Denver boys saw wherein young soldiers were taught things about bicycle riding that were not known among civilians.

Hardly was Sergeant Hal going at full speed again when another obstacle loomed up in his way. This was an intrenchment front, sloping as he approached it, but with a sheer drop of some three feet on the other side.

Straight up the slope dashed Hal Overton. For a fraction of a second, as he left the top of the barrier, his wheel looked more like an odd airship, but now the forward wheel struck the ground beyond once more, the rear wheel swiftly following, and the dispatch rider was going onward faster than ever.

The small boys now led in the noise that came from the spectators' seats.

Just ahead lay the greatest peril of the path for the military dispatch rider. Here, in the hill scene, had been cut an actual gully, some eighteen feet deep, and fully twelve feet across.

Just a few minutes before a squad of soldiers had placed across this gully the trunk of a tree, shorn of its limbs and trimmed down close.

As Sergeant Hal now approached this tree trunk, which was not, at its thickest part, more than a foot in diameter, his purpose dawned upon the watching thousands.

This tree trunk represented the only possible way of getting over the gully.

Surely, the young rider would slow down, dismount, take the wheel on his shoulders and cross the slim bridge on foot.

But the crackling out of more shots behind him told the onlookers that the young dispatch rider in Uncle Sam's khaki uniform must make great haste.

Hal lay on harder than ever on his pedals. His speed carried to the onlookers the reality of a desperate race of life and death.

Close to the nearer edge of the gully stood a solitary figure, that of Corporal Noll Terry, who had had charge of the men laying the tree trunk across the gully.

Noll still stood by, watching, ready to be at hand if anything happened. One other man watched, though from a considerable distance.

This man was Private Hinkey, who alone knew the secret of his willing industry since reaching this camp.

Hinkey, unseen by others, had managed treacherously to "fix" the log in a manner that had defied detection.



"There'll be an end to the sergeant kid, in two seconds more!" gloated the rascal.

Sergeant's Hal's forward wheel struck the log, throwing full weight upon it. There was a snapping crackle, then a shriek from thousands.

For the log had snapped in two, and Sergeant Hal Overton, thrown head downward, was on his way to a broken neck at the bottom of the gully.



CHAPTER XIII

CHASING A SPEEDING DESERTER

INSTEAD of one, there were two flying bodies headed toward the gully's bottom. Corporal Noll Terry, standing there, had heard the ominous crackle of snapping wood.

If there is one thing that a soldier is taught above another, it is to think and move swiftly at a critical moment.

Noll saw the tree trunk sag downward, in just the fraction of a second ere it broke.

Nor did Corporal Terry wait to see more.

With his eyes on his bunkie, Terry made a prompt leap downward.

He had the advantage of landing on his feet. He was jarred, but there was no time to stop to think of that.

At a bound he was far enough forward, his arms outstretched, to swing hold of head-downward Hal Overton.

The impact might have been too much. Sergeant Hal might even yet have landed on his head. But, as he threw him arms around Hal, Corporal Terry threw himself over backward.

He fell with a thump, but was shaken up—no bones broken.

Sergeant Hal landed on top of his bunkie unhurt.

In an instant they separated, each leaping to his feet.

The falling halves of the tree trunk had fallen perilously close to the boyish non-coms., yet by a stroke of good fortune neither of the comrades had been struck.

"Thank you, old bunkie! The best ever!" glowed Hal, as without a backward look he raced to pick up his wheel. "Hurt?"

"Not a bit," gasped Noll, his wind jarred out of him for the moment.

"Then I'll finish the ride!"

To the thrilled, throbbing spectators there did not come a thought of "accident."

Clearly this whole splendid scene had been only a glimpse of practical military training.

It had all been planned, of course, so the audience supposed, that the tree trunk should snap and that the other young sergeant should be there to perform the swift work of rescue.

Even at that it was a wonderful sight, and again the spectators were on their feet, cheering more hoarsely than ever.

Yet hardly had they started to cheer when, some how, in a way they did not quite grasp, Sergeant Hal Overton had climbed up out of the gully, carrying his wheel with him.

Now he was mounted again! On the further side of the gully the young Army dispatch rider was racing forward again.

His wheel, somewhat damaged by the fall, was moving stiffly now, but Overton put into his pedaling every ounce of energy left to him.

In another moment he was out of sight, his dispatch-bearing ride ended, and the band leader stopped his musicians.

In this startling scene the onlookers felt that they had viewed the best piece of individual daring of the afternoon.

Little did they guess that they had seen the failure of a scoundrel's dastardly attempt to end Sergeant Overton's life.

But grizzled old Colonel North, of the Thirty-fourth United States Infantry, knew better.

"Cortland," he remarked, turning to B Company's captain, "just as soon as the last number is over I want you to make an instant and red-hot investigation of that accident to Sergeant Overton. Report to me as soon as you have even the trace of a suggestion to make."

"Yes, sir; and I have one suggestion to make now," replied Captain Cortland.

"What is it?"

"I ask you, sir, to oblige me very greatly by promising a warrant at once for Corporal Terry's promotion to sergeant."

"By Jove, young Terry earned it!" agreed Colonel North.

"Yes, sir; and, to my way of thinking, he did more. He proved that B Company cannot afford to be without a sergeant of his proved calibre."

"Go to Wright, the battalion adjutant, then, and tell him, with my compliments, to prepare an order at once, for reading at the dress parade which is to end up the afternoon's show."

"Very good, sir."

"And, Cortland, ask Wright, as a personal favor to me, to read the order slowly and distinctly, so that the audience can grasp the fact that they've witnessed a deed of heroism and its prompt reward in the Army."

"A splendid idea, sir!"

At the close of the afternoon's fast and furious work came a spectacle such as doubtless no one in the audience had ever seen before.

The three fighting arms of the service—artillery, cavalry and infantry—combined at dress parade.

The ceremony, as enacted that afternoon, possessed all the fervor and solemnity of a religious rite.

When it came to the publication of orders appointing Corporal Oliver Terry a sergeant in recognition of unusual bravery and judgment in saving a comrade's life, only a small percentage of the on-looking, listening thousands grasped the importance or meaning of the promotion of one young soldier.

No matter! All would read about it in the Denver papers the next morning.

At the firing of retreat gun three military bands combined in the playing of "The Star Spangled Banner."

Then, as the troops marched off, all was over as far as the audience was concerned.

Captain Cortland, however, had no sooner dismissed his company than he turned back to the field, to go to the gully to investigate the matter of the broken log. Lieutenant Prescott went with him.

Over back of one of the cook tents, however, a plain soldier man was already arriving at the truth.

"Hinkey, come over here!" called Private Slosson.

There was something in this soldier's voice which made Private Hinkey feel that perhaps it would not be altogether wise to disregard this request that sounded so much to him like an order.

"Hinkey," continued Private Slosson, "'twas a near escape from breaking his neck that Sergeant Overton had this afternoon."

"That's no concern of mine, I guess," murmured Hinkey.

"Then it ought to be," retorted Private Slosson with considerable warmth. "Hinkey, you had me guessing yesterday and this forenoon, you were so full of industry. And that put me in mind. I saw you coming down from near the gully this morning, and you had something hidden under your coat."

The fingers that held Hinkey's cigarette began to tremble.

"What do you mean, Slosson?"

"Well, first of all, the thing you had under your coat was a saw. I saw you hide something under the woodpile here, but I'm so dumb that I didn't think much of it at the time. Now, the log over the gully was a spruce log, wasn't it?"

"I don't know."

"Well, I do," replied Slosson, "and we haven't been using much spruce timber around here, either. So I looked over the saw. Hinkey, between the teeth is quite a little bit of what looks mighty like spruce sawdust. Queer, ain't it?"

"I don't know," replied Private Hinkey, speaking bravely, though his face now looked bloodless and his lips were quivering.

"Spruce sawdust in the saw you handled," continued Slosson mercilessly. "And say, the saw cut in the log over at the gully was pasted with putty, and then bark bits stuck on, to hide the cut. Wasn't that the way it was done?"

"How should I know?" snarled Private Hinkey, trying to glare back into the accusing eyes of Private Slosson.

"Why I asked," continued the latter soldier, "was because I've just been taking a look at the service clothes you wore this morning, and I find putty marks in several places on the trousers."

Hinkey realized that he had been unmasked. Moreover, only one look into Slosson's eyes was needed for making sure that the accusing soldier was not going to keep still about it.

With a sudden snarl of rage, Hinkey sprang forward, driving his hard right fist squarely into Slosson's left eye and knocking that soldier down.

Then, without loss of a second, Hinkey made a dive for the nearest gate of the grounds. As he ran at top speed Private Hinkey then and there, so far as he was personally concerned, ended his connection with the regular Army of the United States.

Private Slosson, holding his eye and feeling weak and dizzy, shouted:

"Some one run after Hinkey, B Company, and catch him!"

The call brought several men, among them Lieutenant Hampton, of B Company.

"What has Hinkey done?" demanded the lieutenant, running up.

"He knocked me down, and then deserted, sir."

"Why, my man?"

"Because he fixed the tree trunk in the way that nearly cost Sergeant Overton his life, and I just showed Hinkey that I had all the proof. You'll not see the fellow again, sir, unless you're swift."

Lieutenant Hampton bounded to the gateway. Down the street he saw Private Hinkey, running like a deer and already near a street corner.

Hal Overton was the only sergeant close enough for the lieutenant's purpose.

"Sergeant Overton, take four men, pursue Hinkey and bring him back here," ordered Lieutenant Hampton.

Hal reached the gateway just in time to see Hinkey running around the street corner.

In a twinkling Hal and four soldiers were hot-foot after the suspected deserter.

But Hinkey was out of sight now. As he reached the middle of the block into which he had turned, a man in his shirt sleeves, standing idly in a doorway called out softly:

"Jump in behind me, comrade, if you're in trouble and being chased."

Hinkey stopped pantingly, giving the man a swift look. That glance was enough to show the deserting soldier that he had met a kindred spirit.

"Thanks. I'll accept," muttered Hinkey, darting into the doorway.

The man who had hailed him pulled the door shut just before Sergeant Hal and four soldiers ran around the corner above.

"What's that soldier been doing that ran by here so fast?" called the citizen in shirt sleeves.

"Which way did he go?" asked Hal swiftly, halting just an instant.

"See the next corner?"

"Yes."

"Your man turned there—to the left. You fellows will have to double your speed if you're ever going to catch that soldier."

"Put on all the steam you can, men," Hal called back over his shoulder as he once more started in what he believed to be pursuit.

Chuckling softly, the citizen opened the door, closed it again and went inside to tell Hinkey why he had saved him.

It was a full hour before Sergeant Hal Overton again reported back at camp on the grounds.

He had come back at last, forced to admit himself baffled.

"You did all you could, Sergeant," replied Captain Cortland, who had just returned to the company street. "Hinkey will be caught, sooner or later."

Then, turning to First Sergeant Gray, who had just come up, Captain Cortland smiled as he added:

"Sergeant Gray, I wonder if Hinkey is still running. If he runs long enough he'll probably fall in with some muck-raking magazine writer, who'll get out of Hinkey a startling story of why some soldiers insist on deserting the Army."

"Captain," replied Sergeant Gray, "I could tell those magazine writers a good deal about why men desert from the Army, sir. But the magazine writers wouldn't want my story of why men desert."

"What would your story be, Sergeant?"

"Why, sir, I'd tell those writers—and prove it by the records—that the men who desert from the Army are the same worthless, skulking vagabonds who are always getting bounced out of jobs in civil life because they're no good anywhere."

"That's the whole story, Sergeant Gray," nodded Captain Cortland.

"I know it, sir; I haven't been in the Army all these years not to have found out that much."

Just then Noll Terry appeared on the scene, wearing his newly won sergeant's chevrons.

Captain Cortland's inquiry into the cause of the accident to Sergeant Overton was concluded by taking the sworn testimony of Private Slosson. The papers were then filed away to be used in case the deserter Hinkey should be apprehended.



CHAPTER XIV

ALGY COMES TO A CONCLUSION

HINKEY, secure in his new retreat, with a new-found "friend" who wanted the services of a man of Hinkey's stripe, was not found.

The evening programme of the military tournament was carried out before all the spectators who could wedge themselves into the grounds, and once more the big circus played to a small crowd.

In the morning the Thirty-fourth entrained and returned to Fort Clowdry.

While in Denver, Lieutenant Ferrers, though he had accompanied the battalion, had been employed in duties that kept him out of the public eye.

Once back at the post, however, Ferrers was warned by both battalion and regimental commanders that he must buckle down at once to learn his duties as an officer.

"I had an idea that being an officer was a good deal more of a gentleman's job," Algy sighed to Lieutenant Prescott.

"An officer's position in the Army is a hard-working job," Prescott rejoined. "However, there's nothing in that fact to make it difficult for an officer to be a gentleman, too. In fact, he must be an all-around gentleman, or get out of the service."

"But gentlemen shouldn't be expected to work—at least, not hard," argued Algy Ferrers.

"Now, where on earth did you get that idea?" laughed Lieutenant Prescott.

"All the fellows I used to know were gentlemen," protested Algy, "and none of them ever worked."

"Then what were they good for?" demanded Lieutenant Prescott crisply.

"Eh?" breathed Ferrers, looking puzzled.

"If they didn't work, if they didn't do anything real in the world, what were they good for? What was their excuse for wanting to live?" insisted Prescott.

"Prexy, old chap, I'm afraid you're an anarchist," gasped Algy, looking almost humanly distressed.

"No; you're the anarchist," laughed the other lieutenant, "for no anarchist ever wants to work. Come, now, Ferrers, buck up! Go over the drill manual with me."

For two days Algy did seem inclined to buckle down to the hard work of learning how to command other men efficiently. Then one night he fell.

That is to say, he went off the reservation without notifying any of his superior officers.

At the sounding of drill assembly the next morning, every officer on post was present with the one exception of young Mr. Ferrers.

"Where's that hopeless idiot now?" muttered Colonel North peevishly, for he had come down to see the battalion drill.

"I haven't the least idea, sir," replied Major Silsbee.

"Send an orderly up to his quarters, Major."

"Very good, sir."

But, as both major and colonel had suspected, Ferrers wasn't in his quarters. Nor was he anywhere else on post apparently.

It was five o'clock that afternoon when Lieutenant Ferrers, in civilian dress, passed the guard house in returning on post.

"Wanted—at the adjutant's office—am I?" queried Algy. "Oh, yes; I imagine I am. Queer place, this Army."

With a sigh of resignation, but appearing not in the least alarmed, Ferrers went to the office of the regimental adjutant.

"You've been away again without leave, and skipped battalion drill and several other duties," said the adjutant dryly.

"Yes," admitted Ferrers promptly. "But I've got a good excuse."

"You'll find Colonel North in the next room ready to hear what your excuse can be."

"I suppose he'll scold me again," murmured Algy resignedly.

"Yes; all of that," admitted the adjutant dryly. "Better go in at once, and take your medicine, for the colonel is about ready to leave and go over to his house."

As Algy entered Colonel North's office the older man lifted his head and looked rather coldly at Mr. Ferrers.

Algy brought up his hand in a tardy salute, then stood there.

But the colonel only continued to look at him. Ferrers fidgeted until he could endure the silence no longer.

"You—you wanted to speak to me, sir?" stammered Algy, the frigid atmosphere disconcerting him.

"I never wanted to speak to a man less in my life," rejoined Colonel North icily.

"Thank you, sir. Then I'll be going."

"Stop, sir!"

"Eh, sir?"

"Mr. Ferrers, I'll listen to whatever you have to say."

"It's all about my being away to-day, I suppose, sir," Algy went on lamely. What he had considered a most excellent excuse on his part now suddenly struck him as being exceedingly lame.

Again Colonel North's lips were tightly compressed. He merely looked at this young officer, but Algy found that look to be the same thing as acute torment.

"Y-yes, sir; I was away to-day sir."

"Further than Clowdry, Mr. Ferrers?"

"Oh, dear, yes, sir," admitted Algy promptly. "Took the train, in fact, sir, and ran up to Ridgecrest. The Benson-Bodges have a new mountain estate of their own up there. Just heard about it the other day, sir. Wrote Benson-Bodge himself, and got a letter yesterday evening. Old Bense invited me to come up and visit himself and family, and not to stand on ceremony. So I didn't."

"No; you didn't stand on any ceremony, Mr. Ferrers," was the colonel's sarcastic response. "Not even the ceremony of formality of obtaining leave."

"But it was all right this time, sir. Quite all right, sir," went on Algy Ferrers with more confidence. "I rather think you know who the Benson-Bodges are, sir? Most important people. A man in the Army can't afford to ignore them, sir—so I didn't."

"I don't know anything about the people you name, Mr. Ferrers, and I don't want to."

"Pardon me, sir, won't you?" demanded Algy beamingly, "but for once I am quite certain you are wrong, sir. Really an Army man can't afford not to know the Benson-Bodges. Old Bense is a cousin of the President. Old Bense has tremendous influence at Washington."

"Then I wonder, Mr. Ferrers, if your friend has influence enough at Washington to save your shoulder-straps for you?"

"Eh, sir? What's that? What do you mean, sir?" asked Algy, again looking puzzled and uneasy.

"I am going to make my meaning very clear, Mr. Ferrers. To-day's conduct is merely the winding up affair of many discreditable pieces of conduct in your part. You have proved, conclusively, that you are not fit to be an officer in the Army."

"Not fit to——" repeated Algy slowly. Then broke into a laugh as he added: "That's a good joke, sir."

"Is it?" inquired Colonel North, raising his eyebrows. "Then I trust that you will enjoy every chapter in the joke, Mr. Ferrers. I am going to order you to your quarters, in arrest. And, as I'm afraid you don't really know what arrest means, I'm going to place a sentry before your door to see that you don't go out."

"For how long, sir?"

"For as long as may be necessary, Mr. Ferrers. Having placed you in arrest I shall report your case through the usual military channels and recommend that you be tried by a general court-martial. I am of the opinion, Mr. Ferrers, that the court-martial will find you guilty and recommend that you be dishonorably dismissed from the service."

"Dishonorably dis——" gasped Algy, feeling so weak that he suddenly dropped down into a chair, unbidden. "Gracious! But that will strike the guv'nor hard! See here, sir," the impossible young officer went on, more spiritedly, as he realized the impending disgrace, "if you're going to do anything as beastly and rough as that, sir—pardon, sir—then I won't stand for it!"

"What will you do, then?" demanded North.

"Sooner than stand for being tried, like an ordinary pickpocket, Colonel, I'll resign!"

"It is not usual, Mr. Ferrers, to allow an officer to resign when he's facing serious charges."

"But I'll resign just the same, sir. Pardon me, sir, but I don't care what you say, now. Things have come to a pass where I've simply got to strike back for myself, sooner than see my family troubled by the idea of my being tried."

"But if your resignation is not accepted, Mr. Ferrers?"

"It will have to be, won't it, if I say that I simply won't bother to stay in the beastly old Army any longer?"

"No; a resignation doesn't have to be accepted, and the fact that you are under charges will operate to prevent the consideration of your resignation until after your trial."

Algy Ferrers looked mightily disturbed over that information.

"Are you serious about wanting to resign and getting out of the Army, Mr. Ferrers?"

"Yes, sir; very much in earnest."

Colonel North thought for a few moments. Then he replied:

"Very good, Mr. Ferrers. You are of no service whatever in the Army, I am sorry to say, though I doubt if you could possibly understand why you are of no use here. If you write your resignation before leaving this room, I will see that the resignation is forwarded, and I will then drop all idea of preferring charges against you."

Colonel North made room at his own desk, after providing the stationery. Algy wrote his resignation as an officer of the Army, signing it with a triumphant flourish.

"I am very glad to have this resignation, Mr. Ferrers," declared Colonel North, speaking more gently at last.

"You can't be any more glad than I am to write it, sir," Algy replied, his face now beaming. "I am glad to cut loose from it all. From the very first day I've been coming more and more to the conclusion, sir, that the Army is no place for a gentleman!"



CHAPTER XV

PLANNING FOR THE SOLDIERS' HUNT

"I'LL go away on the eleven o'clock train to-morrow, sir," stated Algy, as he rose to go. "I won't bother about the few things in my room until I go to Denver and engage a man. Then I'll send my man here to pack up whatever of my belongings are worth having."

"Do you really imagine you can leave the post to-morrow, Mr. Ferrers?" demanded the colonel, a good deal astonished.

"Yes; can't I?"

"Mr. Ferrers, you are of the Army until your resignation has been accepted in the usual way."

"Haven't you accepted it, Colonel?"

"I have no authority to do so. Your resignation will have to go to Washington through the usual military channels, and can be accepted only by the authority of the President."

"Oh, that will be all right," declared Algy promptly. "I'll get my friend, Benson-Bodge, to attend to that."

"I'm afraid he can't do it for you, young man. Mr. Ferrers, you will have to remain at this post, and perform all your duties, until the acceptance of your resignation comes in due form, and through the usual channels. And if you absent yourself from post again, without leave, I'll use the telegraph to make sure that your resignation is refused and that you are obliged to stand trial."

It took Mr. Ferrers until the next morning to recover his good spirits.

Then, immediately after the first drill—which he attended on time—Algy went over to the post telegraph station, where he picked up a blank and wrote this message to his father:

"You'll be glad to know that I'll be with you after a few days more. Have resigned from this beastly Army."

Sergeant Noll Terry was in charge of the office. He looked the message over gravely, then said:

"I am sorry, sir, but I am afraid that I cannot allow this message to go without the written approval of the post commander."