slap on the back. “Of course your tuition is free?”
“Yes, everything is furnished me. If it wasn’t I couldn’t stay here, for I have no money to speak of. The boys in New York badgered me so, and ran such heavy opposition to me that I couldn’t earn enough to buy a warm suit of clothes.”
“You will have an abundance of them in a day or two,” said Don, “for our uniforms will be along by that time. You couldn’t get an education on better terms than the Professor offers it to you, could you? And so long as he is willing that you should stay here, you can well afford to let the fellows grumble to their hearts’ content. Show the Professor that you appreciate his kindness by doing your duty like a man, and look to me for help whenever you get into trouble. Now the next thing is something else,” added Don, as he and his companions came to a halt in front of the high picket-fence which inclosed the academy grounds. “Where’s your room, Sam?”
“I haven’t any yet. I sleep in the attic. The rooms on the floor occupied by our class are all taken except one. That has been used as a store-room, and as soon as it is cleared out I am to have it for my own.”
“Well, do you want the teachers to know anything about this night’s work?”
“Of course not,” returned Sam, who had all a decent boy’s horror of tale-bearing.
“Because, if you do,” continued Don, “you can walk up to one of the guards, let him report you for being outside the grounds without a pass, and when you are hauled over the coals for it, you can say that you were taken out against your will.”
“But I don’t want to say that,” answered Sam, quickly. “It would bring Tom and the rest into trouble. I have nothing against them, and I should be glad to be friends with them if they would only let me.”
“You’ll do to tie to,” said Don, approvingly. “Bert and I have a pass that will see us through all right; but what are you going to do? Do you think you can make your way to the attic without being seen by any of the sentries or floor guards?”
“Tom and his crowd brought me out without attracting the attention of any of them, and I don’t see why I can’t get back without being caught. At any rate I shall try my best. Good-night. I hope that neither of you will ever stand in need of such aid as you have rendered me to-night; but if you do, you may count on me every time.”
So saying Sam moved away in one direction, closely examining all the pickets on the fence as he went, and Don and Bert walked off in the other. When the latter arrived within sight of the main gate they were somewhat surprised to see that it was closed. The sound of their footsteps on the frosty snow quickly attracted the attention of the alert sentry, who came out of his box and demanded to know who they were and what they were doing there at that time of night.
“We belong to this academy,” replied Don, “and have a pass from the superintendent.”
“Corporal of the guard No. 4,” yelled the sentry; and the call was caught up and repeated by another sentinel who stood at the farther end of the academy, and finally reached the ears of the corporal, who was toasting his shins in front of a warm fire in the guard-room.
“What do you want the corporal for? Here’s our pass,” said Don; and taking the paper in question from his pocket he thrust it between the bars of the gate.
Still the sentry made no reply, nor did he seem to know that Don had spoken to him. He brought his musket to a “support,” and paced back and forth on the other side of the gate with slow and dignified steps. Don muttered something under his breath, and Bert believing that he was grumbling at the sentry for being so uncivil, laid his hand on his brother’s arm and said, in a low tone —
“Don’t be angry with him. Perhaps he is not allowed to talk while he is on duty.”
Don said nothing. He began to believe that he and Bert had unwittingly got themselves into trouble again, and when the corporal came up, he found that he had not been mistaken.
“What’s the matter here?” demanded the officer.
“There are a couple of plebes out there who want to come in,” was the sentry’s reply.
“Who are you?” said the corporal, peering through the pickets at the two brothers.
Don gave him their names; whereupon the corporal took a key down from a nail in the sentry’s box, and after unlocking the gate told the boys to come in. They obeyed, and the officer having returned the key to its place drew a note-book from his pocket and wrote something in it. “That’s all right,” said he, as he closed the book and put it back in his pocket.
“Have we done anything wrong?” inquired Bert, in anxious tones.
“You will find that out to-morrow,” was the corporal’s very unsatisfactory answer.
“Why can’t you give a civil reply to a civil question?” demanded Don, impatiently. “We had liberty to go outside the grounds for the evening, and here’s the pass that says so.”
“I don’t want to see it,” said the corporal, as he buttoned his overcoat and drew the cape over his head. “I know just how it reads. Come on.”
“Where are you going to take us?” asked Bert, while visions of the gloomy guard-house danced before his eyes.
“To the officer of the day, of course.”
“And what will he do with us?”
“That’s for him to tell. Come on. It’s too cold to stand here any longer.”
Don and Bert fell in behind the corporal, who led the way to the guard-room, and ushered them into a little office where the officer of the day – a stern old Prussian soldier who wore a medal he had won by his gallantry on the field of battle while serving under Prince Frederick Charles – sat reading a newspaper. When the non-commissioned officer entered with his prisoners he laid the paper down and took off his spectacles.
“Vel, gorporal,” said he, in a pompous tone, “vat ish the drouble mit dem gadets?”
“They have overstayed their time, sir,” said the corporal.
“Vot for you do dot?” demanded the officer of the day, turning fiercely upon the culprits. “Vot for you not come in, ha?”
“We were not aware that we had overstayed our time, sir,” answered Don. “If we had known that we were expected to return at a certain hour, we should have been here. We had a pass for the evening, and there it is.”
“Dot’s no good after daps,” said the officer of the day, turning away his head and waving his hand in the air to indicate that he did not care to look at the paper which Don presented for his inspection.
“I assure you, sir, that it was a mistake on our part,” said Bert.
But the officer of the day declared, in his broken English and with many gesticulations, that such things as mistakes were not recognized in that academy – that Don and his brother had violated the regulations and might make up their minds to be punished accordingly. Then he ordered them to their quarters, while the corporal went back to his seat by the stove.
“He didn’t say that we were in arrest, did he?” said Don, as he and Bert ascended the stairs, at the top of which they met the sentry who had charge of that floor, standing with his note-book in his hand.
