Dick Hamilton's Cadet Days; Or, The Handicap of a Millionaire's Son Part 20

The lads, using their bayonets as spades, and scooping the dirt up with their hands, soon formed shallow ditches, with an embankment of earth in front, and, lying p.r.o.ne behind this, ruthlessly mowed down the ranks of the enemy who still refused to show himself.

The rattle and bang of the rifles, the clouds of smoke, the flashes of fire, mingled with the hoa.r.s.e commands of the major who was a war veteran; the rushing forward of the cadets, and their activity in digging trenches, made the scene one of excitement. It was glorious sport, d.i.c.k thought.

Tired, dusty and warm, though willing to keep at this war game indefinitely, the young soldiers finally reached the edge of the woods, where, having dislodged the enemy, they were conceded to have won a victory, and the march was again taken up.

A halt for dinner was made beside a little brook. Toots, who had charge of the provision wagon brought it up, and proceeded to build fires to make coffee.

"Toots, you old scoundrel," affectionately exclaimed a senior cadet, "did you bring the cream for my coffee?"

"Yes, Mr. Morton. I brought a jug full," replied Toots, who entered into the spirit of the fun.

"And I want a white table cloth," stipulated another.

"I've got one up my sleeve," answered Toots, busying himself about the wagon.

Campfires were soon ablaze, and the appetizing smell of coffee and steaks filled the air. The cadets opened their haversacks, and were preparing to eat, having formed into little informal groups, each company by itself.

"Say, Stiver," remarked Dutton, to his lieutenant, looking at a field of late sweet corn, which was near where they were camped, "I'd like a few of those ears to roast. How about you?"

"Sure's you're a foot high; but you know the orders. Mustn't do any foraging."

"Ah, what's the rule between friends? Besides, Colonel Masterly and Major Webster are away over on the other side of the woods. Send some of the freshmen after some corn."

"I'm not going to. You can if you want to."

"I will. Here, Boardman, you and Booker and Hamilton go and get some of that green corn."

"I'll not," replied d.i.c.k promptly, who knew that this refusal to obey his superior officer would be upheld, if, indeed, Dutton would dare prefer a charge against him.

"Afraid, eh?" sneered the young captain. "Very well, then, you take Hamilton's place, Butler."

The three lads designated, either being afraid to incur Dutton's displeasure, or because they wanted some of the corn, quietly sneaked into the field, and quickly returned with big armsful, which were soon put to roast, the husks being concealed under the leaves in the woods.

"Maybe, you'll have some?" asked Dutton, in sneering tones, of d.i.c.k, as the captain and his cronies began eating the roast corn.

"No thank you. Not that I don't like it, but I prefer to get it another way."

d.i.c.k felt that he was putting himself further than ever beyond the pale of his comrades' liking by his conduct, but he could not help it.

The lunch was almost over, and most of the corn had disappeared, when an elderly man, evidently a farmer, crawled through the fence near where d.i.c.k's company was. There was an angry look on his face.

"Which of you lads stole my corn?" he demanded. "And besides that you trampled down a lot. Who done it? That's what I want to know."

There was no need to answer. The evidences of the stolen corn were all about.

"I'm going to report this to Colonel Masterly," said the farmer, striding off toward where the superintendent was talking to the two majors.

CHAPTER XIII

A NARROW ESCAPE

"Hold on!" cried Dutton, springing to his feet. "Wait a minute, Mr.--er--Mr.--"

"No, you can't come any game like that over me!" cried the angry farmer.

"You stole my corn, and trampled a lot of it down. That's agin orders, an' I know it. I'll report to your superior officers, and we'll see how you'll like it."

"But--er--but I say--" stammered Dutton, wishing he could do something to placate the man, for he knew that all the blame would fall on him, and that he would be severely dealt with; perhaps reduced to the ranks.

"No. I'll not listen to you," replied the farmer. "I'm going to report to Colonel Masterly."

"Now look at the mess you've got us into, Dutton," said Stiver. "Why couldn't you let the corn alone."

"Shut up!" retorted the cadet captain. "I say, Mr.--Mr. Farmer," he called after the man.

"My name's not Farmer, but I know what yours will be; it'll be Mud, soon. I'll teach you tin soldiers to spoil my corn."

There were murmurs among the cadets. They feared lest the whole company might be punished. But a scheme had come into d.i.c.k Hamilton's mind.

Without asking permission from Dutton he hurried after the farmer.

"How much will pay for the damage to your corn, and what the boys took,"

he asked quietly, holding out a roll of bills, for d.i.c.k never was without a substantial sum.

"Now you're talking, sonny," said the farmer, a different look coming into his face. "Why didn't that captain of yours say so at first?"

"What's the damage?" asked d.i.c.k. From experience he had learned that cash will make up for almost any kind of a hurt.

"Wa'al, seein' as that was particularly fine corn, I'll have to charge you ten dollars for what ye took, and what damage ye done."

"Ten dollars! That's too much!" cried Paul Drew. "Don't pay it, d.i.c.k."

"Wa'al, then I'll see the colonel. I guess he'll pay that, rather than have his school sued," said the angry man.

"Here are ten dollars," said d.i.c.k quietly, handing over a bill. "I guess the boys found the corn worth it," he added with a smile.

"That's all right," said the farmer, as he pocketed the money. "I wouldn't 'a made a fuss if I'd a knowed you was goin' to pay for it. I'm reasonable, I am."

"Not at selling corn," murmured Paul, as the man went back into his field.

"Hurrah for Hamilton!" cried several cadets, who realized what d.i.c.k's action meant for them. "He's all right."

"He got us out of a bad sc.r.a.pe," observed Lieutenant Stiver. "My record won't stand many more demerits."

But instead of thanking d.i.c.k, Dutton turned aside. He acted as if he disliked to be under any obligations to the cadet who he so unreasonably hated.

"Hamilton wanted to show off, and let us see that he had money," said the captain, contemptuously. "I suppose we ought to vote him a medal--a gold one, studded with diamonds, seeing that he's a millionaire."