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

“He did bite, didn’t he?” said Duncan to himself, as he hurried about the grounds and through the academy building looking everywhere for Dick Henderson. “He jumped at the bait quicker than I thought he would; but he never would have done it if he had not got himself into trouble last night. That made him mad, and now he don’t much care what he does. We’ll fix him. A court-martial and extra lessons and guard duty and drills for a whole month will so disgust him with this school that he will clear out, and we shall be well rid of him.”

Duncan soon found the boy of whom he was in search, and the following is a part of the conversation that took place between them:

“You are on post No. 5, down there at the north side of the grounds to-night, are you not?” said Duncan.

93Dick replied that he was, that he went on at midnight.

“Well, you know that the boys are going down to Cony Ryan’s to-night, don’t you?” continued Clarence.

Yes, Dick knew all about it, and stood ready to help them in every way he could, without getting himself into trouble.

“Well,” said Duncan, again, “Don Gordon is going with us.”

Dick seemed delighted to hear it.

“We roped him in just as easy as falling off a log,” Clarence went on. “He has been introduced to some of the fellows, and Fisher and I have worked things so nicely that he doesn’t suspect anything. Now you must be on the alert to catch him when we come back, which will be some time between one and four o’clock.”

“How shall I know him from the rest of you?”

“By the signal, of course. Have you forgotten that?” Here Duncan coughed slightly, and in a peculiar manner.

“No, I haven’t forgotten it. I only want to 94know just how things are going to be managed, so that I shall not make any mistakes. It would be awkward, you know, if I should call the corporal of the guard to arrest the wrong fellow.”

“You musn’t do that,” said Duncan, quickly. “It would be much better to let Gordon pass unchallenged with the rest of us. You know we boys got ourselves into lots of trouble last term, and if we don’t keep our names off the black-list from this time on, we stand a good chance of being sent down.”

(By being “sent down” Duncan meant “expelled.”)

“All right,” said Dick. “I know just what you want of me. Do everything just as it was done last term, and I will see that our boys get safely through, and that Don Gordon comes in for a court-martial.”

When the hour for dress-parade arrived the classes were marched to the drill-room by their respective captains, three of them being drawn up in line, while the Plebes were stationed at one end of the room so that they could watch the movements of their comrades, and learn something 95of the duties that would be required of them when they were well enough drilled in the manual of arms and school of the company to go on parade themselves. There were two of them who did not pay much attention to the proceedings, although they appeared to watch them closely, and they were Don and Bert Gordon. They noticed that the adjutant carried some papers in his belt, and they knew instinctively that one of them contained something that would prove to be of interest to them.

In obedience to the adjutant’s order, the captains brought their companies to “parade rest,” the band “sounded off,” a few exercises in the manual of arms were gone through with, and then came the command: “Attention to orders.” Don listened, and heard his name and Bert’s read off in connection with those of three or four other culprits, who were ordered to be punished according to their deserts. It was ordered that privates Donald and Hubert Gordon, for overstaying their time, and having a light burning in their quarters after taps (this being their second offence), be deprived of liberty for thirty days, and required to stand guard for four hours on the 96ensuing Saturday afternoon with packed knapsacks. Then the parade was dismissed, the band struck up a lively tune, the officers advanced to salute the commander of the battalion, and the first sergeants marched their companies to the armory, where ranks were broken.

“Didn’t I tell you just how it would be?” whispered Fisher, who happened to overtake Don while the latter was on his way to his room. “It’s no trouble at all to stand an extra, for it is over with in four hours; and as for depriving you of your liberty—that’s all in my one eye. You can see much more fun without a pass than you can with one, for you are not obliged to return at any specified time.”

“I don’t mind the punishment as much as I do the disgrace,” said Don.

“Disgrace!” echoed Fisher. “Nonsense. This has been a military school for half a century or more, and of the thousands of students who have been graduated here, there are not a hundred who did not, at some time or another, break some rule, and get punished for it. Why, my own father used to run the guard.”

“So did mine,” said Don.

97“Your father!” exclaimed Tom, in great surprise. “Did he ever attend this school?”

“Yes; he received a military education and prepared for college here.”

“I am surprised to hear it. Well, he didn’t get through the whole course without being hauled up occasionally, did he? I just know he didn’t, if he was a boy who had any spirit in him. Now, as I may not see you again until the time for action arrives, I want to know if you understand just what you have to do.”

Don answered that he was sure he did, and then went on to repeat the instructions he had received in the gymnasium. When he had finished, Fisher gave him an approving wink and nod, and left him.

During the evening Don and Bert did very little studying. The latter took his punishment very much to heart; and asked himself over and over what his mother would think when she heard of it; while Don was so busy thinking of the festivities that were to come off at Cony Ryan’s, that he could not have concentrated his mind on his books if he had tried. When taps were sounded the light went out instanter.

98“I shall never get into trouble for that again,” said Don, as he tumbled into bed, after bidding his brother good-night. “The next time I am reported, it will be for something that is worth reporting.”

Don began to be excited now. He had been instructed to wait twenty minutes, as near as he could guess at it, in order to give the officer of the day time to make his rounds, which he did as often as the huge bell in the cupola tolled the hours. He knew when the officer ascended the stairs, heard him talking with the sentry who had charge of that floor, and breathed easier when he went down again—but only for a moment, for now something that appeared to be an insurmountable obstacle arose before him all on a sudden. The sensitive Bert was sadly troubled, and when he got that way, it was almost impossible for him to go to sleep. In case he remained awake until the expiration of the twenty minutes, what could Don do?

“I never thought of that,” soliloquized the latter, his ears telling him the while that Bert was tossing restlessly about on his bed. “It would be simply impossible for me to get up 99and dress and slip out of the room without his knowledge. Of course I might go out openly and above board, for I know that he would never blow on me; but if I do that, he will improve every opportunity to lecture me, and I would rather spend every Saturday afternoon in walking extras than listen to him. I ought to have told the fellows to allow me at least an hour.”

While Don was busy with such reflections as these, and trying in vain to conjure up some plan for leaving the room without attracting his brother’s attention, he was electrified by a gentle snore which came from the direction of Bert’s bed. Don thought it was a pleasant sound to hear just then, for it told him that the way was clear. In an instant he was out on the floor, and in five minutes more he was dressed. After wrapping one of his pillows up in the quilts and arranging them as well as he could in the dark, so that they would bear some resemblance to a human figure, he walked across the room with noiseless steps and cautiously opened the door. The hall was lighted up by a single gas-burner, under which the sentry, Charley Porter, sat reading a book. He looked up when he heard Don’s door grating 100on its hinges; but he did not look Don’s way. He turned his eyes in the other direction. Then he laid down his book, got upon his feet, and walking leisurely along the hall with his hands behind his back, took his stand in front of a window, and looked out into the darkness. His back was turned toward Don, who closed the door of his room behind him, moved along the hall on tip-toe, and dodging around an angle in the wall, was quickly out of sight. A few hurried steps brought him to another door, which yielded to his touch, and then Don found himself in utter darkness.

This door gave access to the back stairs, which ran from the ground floor to the upper story of the building, and were intended to be used only as a fire-escape. The doors that opened into it—there was one on each floor—were kept locked, and all the keys that rightfully belonged to them were hung up on a nail in the superintendent’s room, where they could be readily found by the teachers in case circumstances required that they should be brought into use. The superintendent was happy in the belief that by placing a sentry in charge of the dormitories on each floor, and keeping the keys of these doors under his eye all 101the time, he had put it out of the power of any student to leave the building during the night; but he had not taken into consideration the fact that sentries may sometimes prove false to their duty, and that an old rusty key, picked up in the yard, can, by the aid of a file and a little ingenuity, be made to fit almost any lock. Tom Fisher and his friends all had keys that would