Don Gordon's Shooting-Box, Harry Castlemon [first ebook reader .TXT] 📗

Time flew on, the school term drew to a close, and at last the “day of all days”—the day to which all the students in the Bridgeport Military Academy looked forward with the liveliest anticipations of pleasure—arrived. Of late there had been a perceptible bustle among the boys. Those of their number who had hitherto thought of nothing but mischief, and whose highest ambition was to shirk their duty in every way they could, began to show some interest in the daily school routine, and tried by the hardest kind of study and strict attention to business, to make up for the time they had lost. There was no idleness, and consequently no rules were broken, and there was no extra duty to be done. There was less time wasted in loitering about the grounds, the hours of recreation being devoted to the discussion of various plans for amusement, and 193to the overhauling of fly-books and trolling-lines. Their studies were soon to be thrown aside for a whole month; their pleasant dormitories were to be exchanged for shelter-tents; fly-rods, oars, and geologists’ hammers were to take the place of the pens, pencils, and mathematical instruments that had so long been their daily companions; and their tiresome drills were to give way to moonlight boat-rides and to—well, to some other sports that would not have been permitted while the students were living at the academy, but which were winked at during the time they were in camp. What these sports were shall be told presently.

As the eventful day drew near, the excitement and impatience, and, we may add, anxiety, of the students increased to such a degree that it was all they could do to study. The reason for this state of affairs was found in the fact that it had somehow leaked out—through what source no one seemed able to tell—that an event of unusual interest was to take place during this particular encampment; something that had never occurred before, and might never occur again. Some of the first-class boys who 194were in the secret, had said just enough to put their companions on nettles, but not enough to give them even the faintest idea of what they might expect.

“I know that boat-riding, and trolling for pickerel, and spearing eels by torch-light, are fine sports,” Egan said to Don, one day, “and they are exciting, too, when you have no better way of passing the time; but you very soon forget all about the pleasure you have in that way, don’t you? Well, there’s something going to happen very shortly that you’ll not forget so easily, I tell you. You will remember it as long as you live.”

“Now, sergeant, what is it?” exclaimed Don, after Egan had talked to him a few times in this way. “Can’t you give me a hint?”

“No. Couldn’t possibly think of it.”

“Well, then, if you were told to keep it to yourself, why don’t you do it? What’s the use of aggravating a fellow in this way?”

“I assure you, my dear boy, that no aggravation is intended,” replied Egan, in his blandest tones. “I only meant to prepare you for something you never dreamed of. If your eyes don’t 195open and your hair stand on end, I—whew! I can’t think of it without a little thrill of excitement.”

Meanwhile the question as to where and how the coming vacation should be spent, had been repeatedly referred to and talked over by Don and his three friends in the first class—Egan, Hopkins and Curtis. The latter was anxious to go home and join his friends in the club-shoot that always came off on Thanksgiving day; Hopkins wanted Don to see him add another “brush” to the numerous trophies of the chase that adorned the walls of his room; and Don held out strongly in favor of his own shooting-grounds about Diamond Lake. The matter was finally settled by the assistance of General Gordon, who sent each of the boys a cordial invitation to spend at least a small portion of their next vacation at Don’s shooting-box, and made sure of its acceptance by communicating with the fathers of these students, all of whom he had known in the days of his boyhood. This point having been decided to his entire satisfaction, Don could have settled down to good hard work, had it not been for the fact that he was continually 196looking forward to that “unusual and interesting event” that was to transpire when the boys went into camp. His curiosity had been aroused to the highest pitch, and he could scarcely think about anything else.

The sun rose clear and cloudless on the morning of the first day of August, and before the echoes awakened by the roar of the field-piece had fairly died away, the boys were crowding into the drill-room. Breakfast was served immediately after roll-call, and two hours later three hundred students, led by the band and marching with the precision of veteran soldiers, moved through the wide gateway, and down the principal street of the village toward their camping-ground. Everybody turned out to see them. Flags and handkerchiefs were waved all along their line of march, flowers were showered into their ranks, and when, in obedience to the command: “Platoons, right front into line, double time, march!” they broke from column of fours into column of platoons, the cheers that greeted their prompt and soldier-like execution of the manœuvre, which is always an awkward one unless it is well done, were always deafening.

197The camp was always pitched upon a little rise of ground about three miles from the village. In front of it was the river, on its left arose a range of hills which were almost high enough to be called mountains, and among these hills were located the streams and ponds in which the speckled trout, pickerel, sunfish and bass abounded. Here too, were found the thieving raccoons that ravaged the farmers’ corn-fields, the hawks that caught their chickens, and the black and gray squirrels which afforded the boys many an exciting hunt and excellent dinner. Between these hills and the camp ran a wide and deep creek, whose rapid current often baffled the skill of the young engineers who tried to throw a pontoon-bridge across it.

On reaching the camping ground the arms were stacked, and the tents, which had already arrived, were distributed among the different companies and pitched at the tap of the drum. Then working-parties were detailed to grade and ditch the streets, provide fire-wood for the kitchens and to perform various other duties, and when they were relieved at four o’clock in the afternoon, the little camp presented a scene of neatness and 198order with which the most exacting officer could not have found a word of fault.

There were several orders read that night on dress-parade, and among them was one that expressly prohibited “foraging.” Don could not see the necessity for such an order, so he waited for an opportunity to speak to Egan about it.

“It means,” said the latter, in response to Don’s inquiries, “that we mustn’t steal anything from the farmers hereabouts.”

“So I supposed. But who is there among us who would be mean enough to do such a thing?”

“I don’t know about it’s being mean,” replied the sergeant, in a tone of voice that made Don open his eyes. “We want something good to eat, don’t we?”

“Of course we do; but why can’t we buy what we want? We’ve all got a little pocket-money.”

“That’s very likely; but it is cheaper to forage.”

“But suppose you are caught at it?”

“That’s your lookout. You must be sharp enough to get away with your plunder after you have secured it.”

“I’ll not try it,” said Don, decidedly. “I’ve 199had trouble enough this term, and I am not going to have any more black marks placed against my name if I can help it. Besides, I don’t see what there is to steal.”

“O, there are lots of things. The farmers hardly ever lock their spring-houses, and it’s the easiest thing in the world to slip into one of them and take a good swig out of a pan of milk that has cream on it an inch thick. Ah!” said the sergeant, smacking his lips. “That’s the way Hop got himself into a snarl last camp.”

“Not Court Hopkins!” exclaimed Don.

“Yes, Courtland Hopkins. He and a party of fellows went down to Hudson’s one day after some eggs and butter—by the way, that same farmer Hudson always has a splendid melon patch, and the melons will begin to ripen pretty soon—and while some of the boys were occupying the attention of the farmer’s wife, Hop slipped around to the spring-house, and there he found a five-gallon jar full of fresh buttermilk. That was too much for Hop, who can make way with more buttermilk than any boy I ever saw. He grabbed the jar and made off with it; but just as he was leaving the spring-house, Hudson, who was at work in a field 200close by, caught sight of him and started in pursuit. Hop heard him coming, and knowing that he could not escape with his burden, he put it down, never spilling a drop of the milk, and took to his heels. Fat as he is, he led Hudson a good long chase, but he was collared at last and taken to camp.”

Don was utterly amazed. Here was Hopkins, who was looked upon by all his companions as a model of perfection, and yet he had been caught in the act of stealing; and here was Egan, another good scholar and a non-commissioned officer besides, who told the story of his friend’s guilt as though it were something well worth relating. Don could not understand it.

“What did they do with him?” he asked, as soon as he had somewhat recovered from his surprise.

“Well, the superintendent thought that that was carrying matters a little too far, and so he refused Hop a pass for a week,” was the sergeant’s reply. “But he didn’t gain any black marks by it.”

“How was that?” inquired Don.

“Why, you see, your record for the term is all 201made up, and the hooks are closed; and any mischief you may do here in camp will not count against you in the examination. We come out here to have fun, and the teachers are willing we should have it, so long as we keep within bounds. The farmers around here make lots of money out of us every year, and if we want to go into their orchards and melon-patches and help ourselves to what we find there, we are welcome to do it, if we go about it openly and above board; but if we try to forage on them, they enter into the spirit of the matter as fully as we do, and make every effort to capture us. If they succeed, they march us to camp, and all the boys laugh at us, and we have to fork over money enough to pay for the articles we took, whatever they are. But after all one don’t lose anything by it, for very likely that same farmer will meet you the next day and give you a peck of peaches, or an armful of green-corn or a water-melon as big as you can carry.”

Don began to understand the matter now, and to see why it was that the students looked forward to their month in camp with so much eagerness and impatience. Here were opportunities 202for him to work off a little of his superabundant energy without violating any rules or doing harm to anybody, and those who are acquainted with him will know that he was not long in making up his mind to improve them.

“But there is one thing we have to keep constantly before us,” continued the sergeant, who did not fail to notice and to rightly interpret the look he saw in Don’s eye. “The teachers do not object to innocent fun, but anything that savors of meanness won’t go down. If a boy oversteps the mark, he goes back to the academy and stays there under guard. Duncan went back last camp for trying to rob a hen-roost. The farmer who owned the fowls laughed and said it was all right, but the teachers didn’t think so. I never foraged so much as an ear of corn; but I am a number one deserter.”

“Deserter!” echoed Don, growing more and more interested.

“Yes. You see, we want to do things here just as they are done in