and that would take us out from under the control of the State and make us Confederate troops, wouldn't it? It's a sort of mixed-up mess and I don't see where our independence comes in. But the boys seem to think it is all right and I suppose it is."
But it wasn't all right, and the sequel proved it.
CHAPTER III
DRILL AND PARADES
When the Rangers had broken ranks, which they did without orders as soon as the fourth corporal had been elected, the captain and his lieutenants suddenly thought of something and posted off to find Rodney Gray.
"Look here," said the former, somewhat nervously. "What's the next thing on the programme?"
"Drill, guard-mount and all that sort of thing; but principally drill," answered Rodney. "If I were in your place I would send for a copy of the army regulations without loss of time."
"Where'll I get them?"
"Write to the commanding officer at New Orleans, and the minute they get here, turn this camp into a camp of instruction with written regulations, so that every member of the company may know what is required of him —reveille at five A.M., breakfast at six, sick-call at seven, inspection of company parade grounds at eight, squad drill at half past, and – "
"Hold on," exclaimed Lieutenant Percy. "You will have to put that in writing. I never could remember it in the world."
"You'll have to, and a good deal more like it," replied the Barrington boy. "It's nothing to what I had to keep constantly in mind while I was at school. I had to walk a chalk-mark, I tell you, or I'd have lost mychevrons."
"I suppose the hardest part of the work will be training our horses," observed Lieutenant Odell. "Mine is pretty wild."
"No matter for that if he is only intelligent. He'll learn the drill in less time than you will, I'll bet you. But we'll not need our horses for a month to come."
"What's the reason we won't? We're cavalry."
"I know it; but how are you going to teach your horses the movements unless you know them yourselves? Suppose we were in line in two ranks and the command was given "Without doubling, right face." The horses don't know where to go but their riders must, in order to rein the animals in their places. See? Oh, there's more work than fun in soldiering."
"Well now, look here," said the captain again. "I don't want to take the boys away from home and shut them up here for nothing, and yet I don't want to waste any valuable time, for we may be called upon before we know it. Will you drill a volunteer squad here every forenoon?"
"I will, and be glad to do it. I hope they will turn out strong, for you will find that the workers are the men that make the soldiers. I am glad we've got a drum and fife. You don't know how hard it would be for me to drill a large squad without some kind of music to help them keep step."
And so it was settled that Camp Randolph (it had been named after Tom's father when the Confederate flag was first run up to the masthead, and sorry enough the Rangers were for it now), was to become a camp of instruction, and that Sergeant Gray was to drill a volunteer squad every pleasant forenoon, and spend two hours every afternoon in teaching the company officers their duties.
The young soldier had undertaken a big contract, but he went about it as though he meant business, and in less than a week succeeded in convincing some of the members of his company that he was just a trifle too particular to be of any use. The strict discipline in vogue at Barrington was promptly introduced at Camp Randolph, and not the slightest departure from the tactics was tolerated for an instant. It made the spectators smile to see full-grown men ordered about by this imperious youngster who was not yet seventeen years of age, and the sight aroused the ire of Tom Randolph, who now and then rode out to the camp to watch the drill and criticise the drill-master. He wanted to learn something too, for Tom had an idea that he might one day have a company of his own. His father suggested it to him, and Tom lost no time in talking it up among his friends. To his great disgust Tom had learned that some of these friends were getting "shaky." As time wore on and the Rangers began to show proficiency under the severe drilling to which they were daily subjected, these friends began to think and say that they were afraid they had been a little too hasty in withdrawing from the company just because Tom Randolph could not get the office he wanted, and the first mounted drill that was held confirmed them in the opinion. Due notice had been given of the drill, and the whole town and all the planters for miles around, turned out to see it. Of course the horses were green but their riders understood their business as well as could be expected, and the spectators, one and all, declared that it was a very creditable showing.
We do not, of course, mean to say that Randolph and his father and mother and a few other dissatisfied ones were pleased with the drill. They were rather disappointed to find that the Rangers could do so well without the aid of the twelve deserters. They came to witness it because their neighbors came, one of them, at least, being animated by the hope that the spirited horses would become so restive when they heard the rattle of the drum and the shrill scream of the fife, that their riders could not keep them in line. It was a matter of difficulty, that's a fact; but the Rangers were all good riders, and if Randolph hoped to see any of them thrown from his saddle, his amiable wish was not gratified. Another thing that disgusted Tom was the fact that Sergeant Gray commanded the drill, the commissioned officers riding in the ranks like so many privates. The file-closers, of course, occupied their proper places.
"If I could afford to buy a horse I would join the company within an hour, if they would take me," said one of the eleven who had seen fit to withdraw from the Rangers when Tom did. "I cut off my nose to spite my face, and so did all of us who got our backs up because we couldn't have things our own way. But I don't suppose they would take us back now."
"Would you be willing to have such a fellow as Rodney Gray order you around as he does the rest of them!" demanded Tom.
"Why, I don't see what's the matter with Rodney Gray. I never heard the first word said against him until you took it into your head that he was going to run against you for second lieutenant. Yes; I'd let him or anybody else boss me around if he would only teach me how to drill. He's a nobby soldier, aint he?"
"Nobby nothing," snarled Randolph. "I'll bet you our company will drill just as well as they do."
"Our company?"
"Yes. You don't imagine that the Rangers are the only ones who will go into the service from this place, do you? It would not be policy for the State to send all her best men into the Confederate army," said Tom, quoting from his father; for although he had been a voter for more than three years he seldom read the papers, and depended upon others to keep him posted in the events of the day. "Some of us can't go. Father says the Yankees will fight if they are crowded too hard, and if they should happen to come down the river from Cairo, or up the river from New Orleans, wouldn't the capital of our State be in a pretty fix if there were no troops here to defend it?"
"Aw! they aint a-going to come up or down," exclaimed the other, who was too good a rebel to believe that Union troops could by any possibility gain a foothold in the seceded States. 'The fighting must all be done on Northern soil.' That's what our President said, and I reckon he knows what he was talking about."
"Perhaps he don't. Fortune of war, you know," said Randolph, who, ever since his father suggested the idea, had kept telling himself that nothing would suit him better than to be captain of a company of finely uniformed and mounted State Guards. "At any rate we are going to prepare for what may happen. We are going to get up a company, and my father will equip every one who joins it. If he has a family, my father will support them if we have to leave the neighborhood and go to some other part of
