CHAPTER XVII
ROUNDING UP THE MISSING LEAVE MEN
CAMP police, which means the care and tidying of camp, and the carrying out of hygienic precautions, occupied the soldiers in camp most of the time between breakfast and nine o'clock.
Then the toilers were dismissed for rest.
"Mr. Hampton," called Captain Cortland, "you may notify Sergeant Gray that assembly will sound at 10.15. Just before that, at 10.10, roll-call of the men on town leave will take place."
Some minutes before ten o'clock a lot of the men of both companies began to straggle in.
"There will be some of the boys who won't be here on time, though," Private Hyman confided to Hal.
"A soldier who gets leave and doesn't respect it is either a fool or too mean a shirker to be in the service," Hal returned.
"That's what I tried to tell some of the fellows in town," laughed Hyman lightly. "You ought to have heard them thank me! But, oh, what's the use? A fellow who is going to make a good soldier of himself always does the nearest he can to right, and the other kind seldom get back on a second enlistment, anyway."
A few minutes later Sergeant Gray's voice could be heard calling:
"B Company men returned from town leave fall in here for roll-call."
Further down the camp, C Company's first sergeant could be heard giving the same summons.
Instead of twenty men, only fourteen of B's fell in.
Sergeant Gray looked them over with disgust written on his fine, bronzed, soldiery old face, for Gray had served twenty-four years with the colors.
Then he began to call the roll.
"Dismissed," he announced as soon as he had finished reading.
Turning on his heel, a look of deep concern on his face, Sergeant Gray reported to Captain Cortland.
"Well, Sergeant?"
"Six men absent from roll-call, sir."
"Who are the six men?"
"Burt, Coy, Dowley, Hooper, Landers and Corporal Minturn, sir."
"Direct Sergeant Hupner to report to me at once."
"Very good, sir."
Sergeant Hupner came up at a brisk stride, saluting.
"Sergeant," continued Captain Cortland, "I am very sorry to say that six of B Company's men have violated their pledge and have not returned from leave. Doubtless all of them are in Mason City at this moment."
"Yes, sir."
"Take a detail of six men, reporting their names to Sergeant Gray, and start with as little delay as possible for Mason City."
"Yes, sir. May I ask a question?"
"Certainly."
"If I should meet any of the missing men on their way back here shall I place them under arrest?"
"If you find them at a greater distance than one hundred yards of this camp, Sergeant, put them in arrest and take them into Mason City and back again with you."
"Very good, sir."
"And don't allow any man to have any amusement whatever in Mason City after you arrest him."
"Very good, sir."
"Lack of punctuality is a very serious military offense, Sergeant. I shall do all that is possible to stamp it out in B Company."
"Yes, sir."
"That is all, Sergeant. You do not need any further instructions, for you are an old soldier and can be depended upon."
"Thank you, sir."
"Sergeant Gray will give you the names of the delinquents."
"Very good, sir."
With a final salute Sergeant Hupner turned and strode away. If his gait were any indication, Hupner meant to capture every one of the delinquents with the least possible loss of time.
"You want another trip to Mason City, Overton?" queried Hupner, halting before the soldier boy.
"Not for fun," replied Hal, "but I'll go there, or anywhere else on earth, on a matter of duty."
"You're my man," nodded Hupner. "You, too, Terry. Hyman, I guess you may have an idea where some of the delinquents are holding forth in Mason City?"
"I guess I know," nodded Private Hyman, "though not from associating with any of them."
Three other men were quickly detailed. While the men of this detachment were arming themselves, Hupner hastened to Sergeant Gray for a list of the delinquents.
"Fall in. By twos right, march!"
Hupner led his detachment from camp, and was nearly a hundred yards on his way when the bugler blew the call for assembly.
A military commander, even a corporal or sergeant, is expected to get his command in action with the loss of not even seconds.
And a very business-like looking little force this was. Not a man carried a rifle. Instead, each man had drawn a revolver, which now dangled in holster from his belt. Each soldier also wore at the belt a pair of handcuffs, though these would be used only on troublesome prisoners.
"Squad halt!"
The marching men were about a mile out of Mason City when this command came.
Sergeant Hupner, in the lead, had caught a glimpse of a sight that was soon after revealed to the halted men.
Around a bend in the road, beside a jutting piece of higher ground, lurched an unsteady figure.
That figure, moreover, was clothed in the uniform of the United States Regular Army, but now the uniform was badly soiled and battered.
"Where are you going, Coy?" sharply demanded Sergeant Hupner.
The youth—he was barely more than twenty-one, halted unsteadily, blinking at Sergeant Hupner as though he were not sure whether he saw one, two or three sergeants.
"Where are you going?" sternly repeated Sergeant Hupner.
"Thash all (hic) right, Sarge," replied Private Coy thickly.
He seemed in danger of losing his balance as he stood there blinking.
"It's all wrong," snapped out Hupner crisply. "Answer me. Where do you think you are going?"
"Back to (hic) camp, Sarge."
"You're a disgrace to the uniform," rapped out the sergeant. "You a soldier! You're not even fit to be an anarchist! You miserable, drunken disgrace to the uniform!"
"Oh, thash all (hic) ri', Sarge. Had bully time. Now'm going back to camp."
"What you need is company, then," returned Sergeant Hupner grimly. "Adams, fall out and go back with him. If Coy gets too drowsy to navigate you can wait here on the trail for us. If he gets quarrelsome then put the bracelets on him."
"Don' (hic) need no brashlets," asserted Private Coy with great gravity. "I'm all ri'. Gentleman, I am."
"Come along," ordered Private Adams, though he spoke gently, as he took the unfortunate lad's arm. "They're waiting for you now in camp."
Sergeant Hupner stood there in the trail, gazing after Coy with a look of mingled contempt and pity on his face.
"Thank heaven the good mother who reared that weak piece of flesh isn't here to drop tears over him now," muttered the sergeant. "Forward, route step, march!"
People on the streets in Mason City gazed curiously when they saw the little detachment march in. Many of these people, when they saw the revolvers and handcuffs at the soldiers' belts, were able to make a good guess at Hupner's mission.
So did several of the loafers of the town, who make a business of guiding prospective victims to saloons and other disorderly places.
Some of these members of the scum of the town promptly slipped away to give warning in the places where they believed or knew some of the delinquent soldiers might be found at that moment.
At the head of the main street of the town Sergeant Hupner halted his command.
"Overton and Terry, fall out," commanded Sergeant Hupner. "You men will start right here, one on either side of the street, and visit in turn each saloon on the street. You will also look into any private rooms that you may find connected with these saloons. If you find any of the missing men you will bring them out into the street. Hyman, fall out. You will remain in the street to receive and hold any prisoners that Overton or Terry may bring to you. Men, you are armed, but you will remember that you are to use your weapons only in case of dire necessity. Yet, at any hazard, you will arrest and hold any man of B Company that you find."
"Shall we arrest any of C Company's men that we may find?" inquired Hal.
"You won't find any," replied Sergeant Hupner. "All of C's town-leave men were back on time. It's B that takes all the disgrace this time."
For this important duty Sergeant Hupner had chosen Hal and Noll, because he knew they could be depended upon to enter saloons without being tempted to buy any of the vile wares exposed there for sale.
Moreover, they were both so staunch in their principles that they could enter such places—on duty—without being degraded thereby.
But, though both soldier boys searched saloon after saloon, they did not seem destined to find any of the delinquents. Private Hyman was standing out in the street, with nothing to do.
"Some one must have spread the alarm," thought Private Overton. "Or else the men are really not in any of these vile places. I hope the last guess is the true one."
At last Soldier Hal came to the last resort of the kind on his side of the street.
As he started to push open the door of this place a big, broad-shouldered, red-faced man stepped into the doorway.
"Nothing doing here, soldier kid," leered the fellow.
"Pardon me, but I didn't ask you," was Hal's quick retort.
"Clear out! Hear? You can't come in here, I told you."
"You're dealing with the United States Army now, my man," Hal retorted coolly. "Out of my way, if you please. I'm going inside."
"No, you're not."
"Out of my way was what I said."
"An' I said——"
The red-faced man didn't finish.
Private Hal Overton had drawn his service revolver from its holster without the loss of another instant.
It rested now with its muzzle poking against the big fellow's belt line.
Gasping, he looked into the clear, cool eyes of the young soldier boy.
Then, with an oath, the bully sprang aside, and Hal stepped inside as though no interruption had occurred, at the same time slipping his weapon back into its holster.
The man who had stopped him was not, sometimes, much afraid of revolvers. But he had seen something in the glint of Private Overton's eyes which had made him realize that the young soldier would not tolerate any nonsense whatever.
As Hal stepped inside the place his gaze swept around through the fog of the smoke-laden atmosphere.
It was a saloon of the worst description, as was amply testified by the appearance of the rough-looking customers there.
Overton was the only man in sight who wore the United States uniform.
However, the soldier boy walked down the length of the room, for it was within the range of possibilities that a soldier starting in on a carouse might first exchange his uniform for a suit of civilian clothing.
Not a face in the assemblage was that of a B Company man.
"The sneak!" Hal heard a voice say, and knew that the epithet was applied to himself. But he paid no heed.
"Club him," advised another.
"No wonder soldiers desert," growled still another sodden fellow, "when they send anything like that, with a gun, after another soldier that's out for a good time."
To not one man in the place did the clean-cut face, the evident manliness and fine soldierliness of Private Overton appeal. Hal was not of their kind, and these creatures could not appreciate the higher kind of manhood in this young soldier.
"Ye may jest as well get out of here, kid in brass buttons," jeered a voice behind the bar. "None of yer crew are in here."
But Hal had halted before a door at the end of the room, his hand on the knob.
"Here," yelled a voice, "don't you go in there! That's my family's quarters. Private!"
But Soldier Hal, without replying, pushed the door open and stepped over the sill.
He found himself in a short, narrow passage, the only light coming from the room he had just left.
Beyond was another doorway. Hal stepped to that and turned the knob.
"Waiter!" hailed an impatient voice. "What kept you so long?"
Two other men laughed coarsely, but in an instant the laughter had died out of their voices.
Hal was in a room in the center of which stood a table.
Gathered around that table, in a dense blue haze that ascended from burning tobacco, sat Corporal Minturn and Privates Dowley and Hooper.
"Attention!" Private Overton rapped out sharply. "You are all under arrest for over-staying your leave!"
"Forget it, and get outside as quick as you can," growled Private Dowley.
"You are all under arrest," Hal repeated firmly.
With an oath Dowley leaped up, retreated to the far end of the room and picked up a club. With this in his hand, he wheeled about, glaring angrily.
Corporal Minturn and Private Hooper were also on their feet.
"Get out of here, you little tin soldier!" roared the corporal, who appeared to have imbibed more than either of his companions.
"Come, start, you kid gun-toter," insisted Bill Hooper.
"Stop your nonsense, men," Hal replied, gazing at them steadily. "I have told you that you are under arrest."
"Floor him with that club, Dowley!" ordered Hooper.
"Won't I, though—just!" retorted Dowley, adding an oath as he leaped forward.
Soldier Hal knew that he had reckless men to deal with, but that was no reason why he should not do his full duty.