CHAPTER XII.

RICHARD DOES A "BIG THING," AND TAKES THE CONSEQUENCES.

In the language of the "prize ring," Nevers was still able to "come to time;" therefore Richard could not be regarded as the victor in the fierce contest. The boys who formed the ring began to scatter as soon as the coming of the assistant teacher was announced. But they helped the combatants to clothe themselves, and used every effort in their power to conceal the fact that a fight had taken place.

"A drawn battle," said one of the students.

"Grant," said Nevers, "I am far from being satisfied. At five o'clock, if you are ready, we will finish this business."

"With all my heart," replied Richard, wiping the blood from his nose.

"I hope you will do so," said the bully, earnestly.

"You hope I will! Do you suppose I will not? I am willing to be put under bonds to appeal at the time named, Nevers. If any body backs out, I shall not be the one."

"I am sure I shall not."

"Good!" shouted the boys.

"Now, keep still, fellows," added Nevers. "Don't say a word about it, or all the fun will be spoiled."

The spectators of the barbarous spectacle all promised to keep still, and Richard moved over to a brook behind the grove to wash the blood from his face. His opponent had sundry very bad-looking places on his physiognomy, but no blood had been drawn.

By this time Mr. Gault made his appearance in the grove; but so well did the boys play their parts, that he did not even suspect that any unusual event had transpired. Some of them commenced a game of "tag," and played with such zeal that no one could have suspected they were not in earnest. Others engaged in conversation, and those who had followed Richard to the brook resumed their labors upon the dam and water wheel.

Mr. Gault had no particular motive in visiting the grove. He was merely taking a walk in the discharge of his duty, which included a general supervision of the boys on all the grounds. But Richard kept out of his way, fearful lest his swelled face should betray him, and thus prevent the final settlement of the account. He felt like a victor already, for he was perfectly confident that his superior science and coolness would give him the battle.

I am sorry to add that he did not think of the good resolutions he had made; or, if he did, he banished the thought as inconvenient and uncomfortable. He really believed that he had been deeply injured by the bully of the Institute, and if he did not regard it as a positive duty to obtain satisfaction, he at least felt that such a course was perfectly justifiable.

Nevers was the bully of the school. Weak and timid boys were obliged to submit to his insults. He had won the position of the "best man" in the school, and he employed his power in playing the tyrant. Richard felt that he must either whip him, or acknowledge him as his superior, and submit to his rule.

The element of pride also had a powerful influence upon his mind. Bailey had told him that Nevers could whip any fellow in the Institute; and it followed, of course, if he could master him, he should at once become the champion of the ring. Richard regarded this as a proud distinction, and he was quite willing to have a battered nose and a swelled face in the achievement of such an honor.

More than all this, Richard was animated by the generous sentiment that, in fighting and whipping the bully of the ring, he became the champion of the weak and the timid, who dared not resent the insolence of Nevers.

When he had washed his face and stopped the bleeding, he followed the course of the brook, till it emptied itself into the river, which was a small stream some four or five rods wide. He was attended by Bailey and two or three other boys, who had suddenly conceived a very great admiration for him. If he was not the victor in the fight, he had the advantage, and he had already partially entered upon the enjoyment of the honors which would be bestowed upon the conqueror of Nevers.

A short distance above the mouth of the brook, the river received the waters of the beautiful and picturesque Tunbrook Lake. The Institute grounds bordered upon it for some distance, and great was the satisfaction of Richard when he saw several boats, which his companions informed him belonged to the school. There was a large schooner-rigged sail boat, two twelve-oar race boats, besides three smaller craft. He felt at home here, and inquired particularly whether the boys were allowed to use these boats. They were only permitted to sail in company with some of the instructors.

The boys were exercised in rowing on Saturday afternoons, when the regular sessions of the school were suspended, and also upon the occasional holidays which were granted. The lake was seven miles long, by about two in breadth, so that there was abundant sea room. While they were examining the boats, and viewing the beautiful lake, the signal bell in the tower of the Institute school room sounded its warning peal, and summoned them to study and recitation.

"How does my face look, Bailey?"

"Not very bad."

"Do you think Gault will smell a mice when he hears my lessons?"

"I don't see why he should."

"I guess I can stave him off if he does," added Richard, confidently. "Didn't you see me tumble down when that fellow chased me?"

"What fellow?" asked Bailey.

"Any fellow you please," replied Richard, with a knowing smile.

"I didn't see any fellow chase you," added Bailey, innocently.

"Can't you see through a millstone when there is a hole in it?"

"Of course I can."

"Don't you see what I mean?"

"No, I don't."

"If Gault asks me how I hurt my face, I will tell him a fellow was chasing me, and I tumbled down. Of course all the rest of you saw it."

"But I don't see it," persisted Bailey.

"Don't you, indeed! Then I think you ought to have a pair of leather spectacles."

"O, I know what you mean, but I don't believe in lying about it."

"Ah, then you are a military saint—are you?" said Richard, with a sneer.

"All but the saint," laughed Bailey. "I don't think there is any use in lying about it."

"Then I suppose you think it was very wicked of me to fight with Nevers."

"No, I don't," answered Bailey, promptly and decidedly. "Nevers is a bully, and he insulted you. My father always told me never to take an insult, but he would thrash me for telling a lie."

"Well, Bailey, I believe you are right. I think it is mean to tell a lie; but how shall I manage it?"

"Face the music. A fellow who can stand such a pounding as you have had, wouldn't mind being punished."

"I don't like to be punished."

"I don't know as the colonel would punish you. If a fellow gets up a fight, he has to take it; but if he only defends himself, he says he does no more than his duty."

"Well, who got up this fight?"

"That's the point. Nevers insulted you, and you pitched into him. I don't know which is most to blame."

"We will leave it to the powers that be, and not bother our heads about the question. I won't lie about it, any how."

By the time this point was settled the boys had reached the school room. Richard applied himself with zeal and patience to the labors of the afternoon, determined to do his whole duty. When called out to recite, Mr. Gault noticed the swelling upon his face, and at recess asked him what had caused it.

"It was done in a little affair out in the grove sir," replied Richard.

"What kind of an affair?"

"Nevers and I had a little set-to," said Richard.

"Rather rough play, I should think," added Mr. Gault, as he struck the bell for the work to be resumed.

Richard congratulated himself that he had escaped, and, as he thought, without telling a lie. He told none with his lips, but his manner was such as to assure the teacher that the affair in the grove had been nothing but friendly sport. Deception, or wilfully misleading another, for the accomplishment of a purpose, is, in our opinion, just as culpable a falsehood as gaining the same end by a lie expressed in words. But Richard had not come up to this standard.

At the close of the school session, Richard hastened to the grove, as did all the boys who were in the secret of the fight. Nevers was on the ground soon after him, and the arrangements for the fight were hastily completed. A line of scouts reaching from the parade ground to the grove was stationed at convenient distances to give warning of the approach of any of the teachers. The ring was formed, and Richard coolly divested himself of all superfluous clothing, and prepared with the utmost care for the desperate encounter.

Nevers was ready sooner than Richard, for he was not so precise in the arrangement of his garments. As he took his place in the ring, though he stood strong and defiant, there was a kind of nervousness in his manner, which might have been detected by a keen observer.

"Come, Grant, we shall not get to work to-day, if you don't hurry up," said Nevers, his lip curling into a sneer.

But it was the bully in him that spoke. He had a reputation to sustain, and he was saying and doing all he could to ward off any imputation upon his courage.

"In one moment, Nevers," added Richard.

"You are as particular as though you were going to a ball," continued Nevers.

"I suppose you are too much of a man to bawl, whatever happens; so there won't be any," replied Richard.

"We shall have the colonel and all the teachers down upon us, if you don't get fixed soon."

"I'm all ready," said Richard, throwing himself into the attitude of the pugilist.

"Come on, then."

Richard edged up to his antagonist, and after considerable sparring, the fight commenced in good earnest. Nevers was too much excited to use all his strength to the best advantage, for the first hit he received seemed to make him angry. In the first round Richard had the advantage. In the second, Nevers knocked him down; but he was not at all disconcerted. The heavy blows he received did not appear to disturb his equanimity, while his opponent worked himself up into a towering passion. The fight went on for ten minutes with varying results. At one time all the spectators were sure that Nevers would win, and at another they were equally sure that Grant would be the victor.

The anger of Nevers exhausted him more than his tremendous efforts. Both parties had been terribly punished, but Richard was still cool and self-possessed. At last Nevers became desperate, and rushed upon his foe, determined at one effort to crush him. He was furious, and abandoned all the science he had brought to his aid, and apparently depended entirely upon brute force. The consequence was, that he laid himself open to his cool rival, and Richard rained a series of tremendous blows upon his head, which carried him under. He fell heavily upon the ground, and lay there incapable of moving.

Richard, though his nose was bleeding, and he could not see out of one eye, seated himself on the ground for a moment, till he had recovered his breath, and then took his place in the ring.

"Time!" cried the friends of Richard.

But Nevers could not "come to time." He raised himself partly up, but sank back again, incapable of making the effort to rise.

"Come on!" said Richard, as he sparred a little with his fists to assure the spectators that he was "game" to the last.

Nevers made no reply, and Richard was declared the victor by his own friends, and the proposition was admitted by those of his prostrate antagonist.

"I am satisfied," added Richard, as he picked up his clothes, and made his way down to the brook, attended by an admiring crowd.

When Nevers recovered his breath, he rose from the ground, and his companions helped him down to the water, where he was bathed by his sympathizing friends. Both of the combatants were severely though not seriously injured.

"What's to be done now, fellows?" asked Richard, when all that cold water could do for him had been done. "I suppose we are all in a bad scrape."

"That's so," replied several. "We will stand by you, Grant, as well as we can."

"I am not exactly in condition to appear at dress parade," added Richard, turning his head round, so as to bring his available eye to bear upon his companions.

"You are better off than Nevers, who is first sergeant of Company D."

"Can't we keep out of sight till we get our eyes open, as little kittens do?"

"Roll call before dress parade," suggested Bailey.

"Can't some fellow answer for me? I will spend the night in the cabin of the sail boat on the lake. It won't be the first time I've slept in a boat."

"That won't do. Better face the music, Grant."

"But I shall be punished for this affair. I don't——"

"Colonel Brockridge is coming!" was the word passed down the line of scouts, interrupting Richard's remarks on the subject of punishment.

"What shall I do?"

"Don't do any thing, Grant," said Bailey. "You are sure to be found out, whatever you do. If you run away, it will be all the worse for you."

Richard, after a moment's reflection, was of the same opinion, and he decided to take the consequences, whatever they might be.

"What does all this mean?" demanded the colonel, sternly, when he saw the swelled face of Richard.

"Been a fight, sir," replied several of the boys.

"Between whom?"

"Nevers and Grant."

"Nevers and Grant will report forthwith in my office," said the principal, as he walked back to the Institute.

CHAPTER XIII.

RICHARD LISTENS TO A HOMILY ON FIGHTING, AND SPENDS THE NIGHT IN THE GUARD HOUSE.

Richard, in obedience to the order of the principal, immediately repaired to the office, where he was soon joined by Nevers, both of them very much the worse for the encounter.

"You have been fighting—have you, young gentlemen?" demanded Colonel Brockridge, as he entered the room.

"Yes, sir," replied both of the culprits, in the same breath.

"You know the rules of the Institute, Nevers," added the principal, sternly.

"I do, sir; but I was struck, and was obliged to fight in self-defence."

"And you, Grant, had common sense enough to know better than to engage in a fight. You struck the first blow—did you?"

"I struck the first blow that was given with the fist, but Nevers struck the heaviest blow with his tongue."

"Explain, Grant."

"At breakfast I was informed by Nevers that they found out what boys were made of on drill."

"Did you make use of this remark, Nevers?" asked the principal.

"I did, sir."

"What did you mean by it?"

"Simply that we found out something about a boy's capacity."

"Ah, indeed!" added Colonel Brockridge, in a slightly satirical tone. "What did you understand by the remark, Grant?"

"That a fellow who hadn't spunk enough to protect himself must submit to be insulted, and to be bullied by those who were wiser than he in military matters."

"I did not mean that, sir," protested Nevers.

"His looks and his tone indicated it," said Richard. "And when he was directed to instruct me in the positions, his tone and manner were haughty and domineering. I so understood it, sir; if I am wrong, I am willing to apologize. In the course of the drill he called me a dough-head."

"Is this true, Nevers?"

"It is; but I did not call him so till I was satisfied he did not mean to observe the order. In teaching him the facings, he would not come about till all the others had finished the movement."

"I wouldn't, if I had been in his place," added the colonel, very much to the astonishment of Richard, and very much to the indignation of Nevers. "You know very well that one boy is never permitted in this school to domineer over another. You took pains beforehand to inform Grant, by your words, and especially by your looks and actions, that you meant to haze him, to bully him. As a decent boy, he could not submit to it. Then you called him a dough-head; which, as Grant suggests, was the heaviest blow that was struck, for it touches a spot which the fist cannot reach. Nevers, you commenced the fight."

"I think not, sir."

"We don't argue the matter, sir," said the colonel, sharply. "One thing more: no pupil is allowed to use ungentlemanly language to another pupil. Obedience to officers who are merely students is purely voluntary. If a boy refuses to obey the officers, he must leave the company. No boy is compelled to go into the ranks. On drill the case is still stronger, Nevers. If the recruit will not obey, it is the duty of the drill officer to report him to the instructor. If you had done so, it would have been Mr. Gault's duty to drill Grant himself."

Nevers made no reply to these remarks. He cast a savage glance at Richard, who appeared to have conquered him in the forum as well as in the field.

"Grant, you are also to blame," continued the principal. "We will not permit you to be insulted, bullied, or domineered over. I will protect you, but you must not take the law into your own hands. A blow is not justifiable except in self-defence, or when all other means have failed. You knew it was wrong to strike Nevers."

"I did not think so, at the time, sir," replied Richard. "What you have said has changed my view of the matter."

Nevers sneered at this remark of his antagonist, and Richard saw and felt that sneer. It was as much as to say that he, Richard, was making his peace with the principal by pretending a penitence he did not feel. It stung him where he was very sensitive, and he was angry.

While his wrath was boiling, and he was considering in what manner he should punish his crestfallen rival for his savage look and his bitter sneer, the parting admonition of Bertha came to his mind, with the promise that he had made to obey the rules of the school. This suggested his big resolutions to reform his life and character. A brutal fight on the first day of his residence at Tunbrook was not exactly redeeming his solemn promise to his sister; nor was the conquest of Nevers a step towards the conquest of himself.

Yet, in spite of his promise, and in spite of his resolutions, he could not believe that he had been altogether in the wrong. He thought Colonel Brockridge's views of the case were very sensible: and while he wished he had not been so hasty in hitting Nevers, he felt, as the principal had suggested, that his conduct was greatly palliated by the provocation he had received.

Nevers cast looks of hatred and contempt at him, which stirred his blood deeper than even the words of insults he had received. He came to the conclusion that the bully had not got enough yet, and impulsively he determined to give him some more at the first convenient opportunity. But when he thought of the promise he had made to Bertha, when he thought of his resolution to conquer himself, he struggled with the temptation, and finally had the strength to say to the malignant demon of hatred and revenge, "Get thee behind me, Satan." The victory was won; the heart of Richard was at peace; he had actually conquered himself this time.

"You have both done wrong," said the principal, after a few moments' consideration, during which time Richard had won a greater and nobler victory than that he had gained in the grove.

"I am sorry for it," said Richard, and it was almost the first time in his life that he had acknowledged himself in the wrong.

Nevers cast a look full of contempt at him when he uttered these words; but Richard, under the influence of the good angel which had taken possession of his soul, did not permit the look to ruffle him.

"I will do right, and feel right, this time, if I never did before," said he to himself.

"Nevers," added the principal, "your warrant as orderly sergeant is withdrawn; you are reduced to the ranks. You can go, now. Remove those stripes from your arms."

The sentence was a heavy blow to the bully. For a year he had been trying to obtain promotion. He wanted a commission. The company officers were elected from the sergeants, and he was confident that he should be chosen captain of Company D at the next election. He had been a sergeant for a year and a half, and would have been a captain if he had not been a bully; for there were enough who disliked him on this account to prevent his election. As the first sergeant of the company, he was almost sure that he should be chosen the next time. But his sentence removed all hope of such preferment.

"Grant, I believe you are sincerely sorry for what has happened; but you have done wrong, and you must be punished."

Richard's anger rose at these words, and he was disposed to resent the idea of being punished for what he had done, especially after the judge had ruled so decidedly in his favor.

"I shall order you to be placed under arrest, and to spend the night in the guard house. You will report to me at dress parade. You can go."

The culprit's lips were compressed, and his teeth were tightly closed. He was angry, for he had expected to be fully justified before the boys for his conduct. An impudent remark trembled on the end of his tongue, but the memory of the conquest he had achieved over himself prevented him from uttering it.

"I have done wrong, and I have owned that I was in the wrong. I will submit," said Richard to himself, as he left the office.

When he went out upon the play ground, he found the boys assembled in groups discussing the exciting event of the day. They gathered around him to learn the result of the trial.

"Nevers has lost his office, and I am under arrest, to spend the night in the guard house," replied Richard, in answer to their inquiries.

"You got off easy," said Bailey.

"I suppose I did; at any rate, I am satisfied."

"Nevers has lost his warrant," exclaimed the boys, who were particularly technical in speaking of military events. "Let's give three cheers."

"Don't do it," said Richard. "It's a hard case for him."

"I am glad of it. The bully is down," added one."

"You licked him well," said another.

"I am sorry I did," replied Richard. "I didn't understand the matter so well then as I do now. Colonel Brockridge is a trump!"

If any of Richard's friends at Woodville had heard this remark, they would have been ready to canonize him at once, for it was so utterly at variance with his style, that his acquaintances would not have recognized it as coming from him. But Richard was engaged in the conquest of himself, and had won two or three important victories.

The early call for dress parade sounded, and the boys all hasted to the armories to prepare for it. As Richard had no uniform yet, he was excused from serving, and reported himself to the colonel, as he had been ordered. When the parade was finished, the principal delivered a homily on fighting, stating the facts connected with the combat of that day, and commenting upon them. He condemned fighting in round terms, declaring it was never necessary, except in self-defence. The civil and the social law would protect every member of the community, and there could be no need of resorting to the barbarous custom of settling differences by single combat. He applied the principles he laid down to the case before him so clearly, that Richard lost much of his admiration of the "noble art of self-defence"—as pugilists stupidly style the act of fighting, to ascertain who is the better man.

Lest our boy friends should not fully understand us, we must add, that the colonel's views are ours. A boy ought to fight in self-defence; never to find out which is "the better man." He should use no more violence than is necessary to defend himself. A boy is bound to protect his weak friend—not from words, but from blows—to the best of his ability, by using blows, when they are necessary. We can excuse, but we cannot justify, the boy who strikes another for insulting his mother or his sister. We believe in a "kiss for a blow," but we also believe that cannon are often the best peacemakers. "Blessed are the peacemakers," but he who permits himself to be unjustly scourged is more truly a fomenter of strife than he who conquers a peace in a good cause by the might of his strong arm.

At the conclusion of his remarks, Colonel Brockridge ordered Richard to be conducted to the guard house, where he was to spend the night. Mr. Gault was directed to see the order executed, and the culprit was marched to the apartment which served as a place of confinement for offenders. He submitted to the punishment with the best grace he could command, but he was mortified and humiliated.

The guard house was a bugbear to the boys of the Institute. It was a small room, with the mockery of iron bars at the window, placed there more for effect than for any thing else. It contained a bed and a stool, with no other furniture. But it was regarded as a terrible place by the boys; not that it was a very great hardship to spend a night there, but because of the disgrace which the popular sentiment of the establishment had attached to the prison.

Richard entered, and the door was locked upon him. The room was dark, but he was not permitted to have a light. He seated himself upon the stool, and it was literally the stool of repentance to him. His supper was brought to him, and the servant stood by with a lamp till he had eaten it. He was then left alone for the night, to meditate upon the folly and wickedness of engaging in a fight without justifiable cause.

One of the first questions which the hero of the fight asked himself was, whether he had not too tamely submitted to the authority which had humiliated and punished him. That he had done so was the most surprising thing he had ever known himself to do. And when he came to ask himself why he had submitted, he could very clearly trace the reason to the good resolution he had made to reform his life and character—to conquer himself. It was hard for him to give in, but he was satisfied with himself, and began to feel that he had really made some progress in the great work.

He wanted to write a letter to Bertha, and tell her all about the events of the day—how patiently he had submitted to reproof and punishment; and record his solemn determination to conquer himself. He had no light, and no materials for writing; so, at an early hour, he went to bed; and fatigued with the labors and excitement of the day, he forgot in sleep that he was a prisoner.

At reveille, in the morning, he was discharged from arrest, and ordered to report for duty in the school room. He was still strong in his good resolutions, and the sneers and frowns of Nevers and his clique did not disturb him—did not even tempt him to indulge in the cheap retaliation of sneers and frowns in return.

In the course of the day Richard found that he was a lion. He had thrashed the bully of the school, and won the enviable position of champion of the Institute. But even this glory did not seem to be worth much; for since the fight, he realized that he had whipped a bigger fellow than Nevers.

For a week, in school and out, Richard was true to himself, and behaved nobly. More times than we have room to record, during this period, he got the better of his ever-familiar foe, and every new victory improved his morale and added to his prestige.

At this point in his school career, the students were ordered to perform the usual round of camp duty; and at eight o'clock in the morning, the battalion took up the line of march for the appointed place, at the other end of Tunbrook Lake, distant ten miles by the road.

CHAPTER XIV.

RICHARD DOES GUARD DUTY, AND IS CAPTURED BY AN ENEMY.

Camping out was a great event at Tunbrook, and the students looked forward to it with pleasant anticipations for weeks. The principal was shrewd in his policy, and no one knew when it would take place till it was announced, only a day or two before the march. By this plan he prevented any diversion of the thoughts from the lessons. Neither did the boys know where they were going when they started. They obeyed the orders which were given from time to time, and even when they halted for the night and pitched their tents, they could not find out whether they had reached the end of the march or not. The colonel told them that soldiers should be taught to obey orders, and cured of all propensity to ask questions.

The tour of camp duty for the summer term had been almost a continuous march; and during the campaign of ten days, they had travelled over a hundred miles. Colonel Brockridge was an earnest believer in the necessity of physical development in boys. He was of the opinion that they could stand almost every thing, if they were regularly and systematically inured to hardship. Weak papas and tender mammas raised their hands with horror at the idea of having their Johnny sleep on the ground in a tent, and stick to the camp whether it was fair weather or foul; but the colonel could adduce hundreds of instances where boys of puny constitutions had become strong and vigorous under this treatment.

He believed that more boys had been spoiled by being "babied" than ever had been injured in the slightest degree by hardship—if military duty, as it was performed at Tunbrook, could be called hardship. It was very certain that the boys enjoyed camping out; and if a few of them sneezed or coughed after their return, these were not regarded as fatal symptoms.

Richard was in his element when the school was put upon its muscle. Though nothing but a private in Company D, and subject to the orders of his inferiors in body and mind, he performed his duty cheerfully, and enjoyed it very much. After Nevers had been cured of his folly, there was not another boy in the establishment who had the hardihood or the desire to impose upon him.

Every thing was done with military order and precision on the morning that the battalion marched from the Institute. Though the reader knows where they were going, not an officer or a private had a suspicion of their destination; and none but a few of the new comers asked the question, or appeared to care. In front of the battalion was the band, and behind it came the wagons containing the tents, baggage, and pontoon train. The principal and the instructors were scattered along the line, where they could superintend the operations of the column.

Major Morgan, in command of the battalion, had evidently received instructions for a portion of the day; for, without any direction from the teachers, he led his command over the road to the grove, and in fifteen minutes after they started, the order to halt was given. The battalion stood rigid as a stake where they were ordered, and presently the engineer corps was detached for duty. The pontoon wagon was brought up, and unloaded by the side of the river. The boats, which were of rubber, were inflated, and the business of building a bridge across the stream was commenced.

Every thing was so nicely prepared that the work was accomplished in an incredibly short space of time. The battalion, followed by its wagons, crossed the pontoon bridge, the boats and the planks were taken up and loaded upon the wagon again, and the troops were ready to march. Neither Colonel Brockridge nor any of the instructors had spoken a word during these operations, for the engineers had been thoroughly trained in their difficult duty.

For an hour the battalion marched without stopping. The orders "shoulder arms," "support arms," "right shoulder shift" relieved them occasionally; but some legs began to ache before a halt was permitted. During the next hour they marched most of the way with the "route step." At twelve o'clock they halted for dinner and an hour's rest. The haversacks of the soldiers had been filled with crackers and cold ham, and they had a jolly dinner in a grove where they stopped.

About four o'clock in the afternoon, they reached the upper end of the lake, and the orders necessary for forming a camp were given. The tents were pitched, the boundaries of the camp marked out, and a detail for guard duty was made from each company. Every thing proceeded precisely as it would if they had been old soldiers, and engaged in the actual business of war.

Richard was one of those who had been detailed from Company D, for guard duty. The camp ground was a large, open plain, bordering on one side upon a dense forest. The night was dark and dismal, and at nine o'clock Richard found himself walking his lonely beat, on the verge of the forest. There was a novelty about the situation that was very attractive to him, and as he walked his solitary round, he actually enjoyed it. It was not to all probable that an enemy, or even a straggler, would disturb the quiet of the scene by attempting to pass the line; but though the guard had been commanded to be vigilant, he had abundant time and opportunity for reflection and castle-building.

Our sentinel had imbibed much of the spirit of the soldier, from the martial exercise to which he had been trained, and he indulged in some pretty visions of military glory. They were very pleasant and very alluring at that time, when the country was enjoying profound peace. Even the politicians, who were compromising with difficulties, present and future, never dreamed that the war blast would sound through the land in their day and generation, and were unbelievers in the dire prophecies which they uttered. While Richard's fancy led him to scenes of blood and glory on the battle field, he little thought that an opportunity would so soon be presented for the practical application of his military knowledge, and for the indulgence of his military ambition.

While he was dreaming of war and glory, while in imagination he was leading battalions of brave men to battle and victory, his reflections were disturbed by the approach of a squad of boys. It was so dark that he did not see them till they were within a few rods of him. It was evident that they had left the tents by stealth, and must have crept some portion of the way on the ground to escape observation. When they came near enough to be challenged, the guard called out,—

"Who comes there?"

"Friends," replied one of the party.

"Advance, one friend, and give the countersign."

One of them stepped forward, and Richard held him at bay with his bayonet, according to military custom.

"I declare, I have forgotten the countersign," said he.

"Then I will call the corporal of the guard."

"No; hold on a minute. I shall think of it in a moment."

Richard was willing to give him a fair chance, as there was no enemy in the vicinity who could possibly intend to capture the battalion. But while he was waiting, the fellow suddenly grasped his musket, and attempted to wrest it from his hands. But this was a game at which two could play as well as one; and Richard, instead of giving the alarm, as he should have done, threw himself upon his muscle, and attempted to beat off his assailants.

The rest of the party immediately came to the assistance of the fellow, and, after a short but sharp struggle, the sentinel was overpowered, and his gun taken from him. At the conclusion of the struggle Richard found himself upon his back, on the ground, held down by the whole squad of boys, or as many as could get hold of him. One of them held a handkerchief over his mouth, so that he could not give the alarm, now that he found it necessary to do so.

Richard supposed this rough treatment could be nothing more than a practical joke—one of those tricks played off upon raw recruits, to teach them the necessity of vigilance, and a nice observance of the rules of the service. When he was overpowered, therefore, he submitted to his fate, whatever it might prove to be, hoping his captors would relax their hold upon him just long enough to enable him to turn the tables upon them; for he was vain enough to believe that he could whip the whole dozen of them, if he could only have fair play.

"Let him up, now, and we will tie his hands behind him," said one of the party, in a feigned voice, to prevent the victim from recognizing the speaker.

"But he will halloo, if we let him up," replied the one who had answered his challenge, and whose voice Richard could not identify.

"I'll stop his mouth, if he hallooes," added the first speaker. "I'll hit him over the head with the butt of his musket."

"No, no," said the other; "you'll kill him. We don't want to injure him."

"I do; I wouldn't mind cracking his skull for him."

"No, no; we shall get into trouble ourselves if we do any thing of that kind."

Richard thought they would any way, as soon as he could obtain the use of his arms. He felt so well qualified to take care of himself that he would have been willing to give his bond not to halloo, or call any one to his assistance, though he could not help wondering that the sentinels whose beats were next to his own, did not arrive at the scene of operations. It was evident to him that they were asleep on their posts, or that they were accomplices of the conspirators.

"Now, get up," said the speaker, who used the disguised voice.

Richard promptly obeyed this order, and though several of the boys held on to him as he rose, a terrible struggle ensued, in which the captured sentinel almost made good his mental boast; but they were too many for him, and his hands were tied behind him with a knapsack strap, in spite of his best exertions to shake them off.

"I told you he would be a hard customer," said one, who had not before spoken.

"Shut up, you ninny! You'll blow the whole of us. No fellow is to speak but—you know whom," said he with the assumed voice.

Richard tried to obtain, in the thick darkness that shrouded them, some clew which would enable him to identify the ruffians; but he could not make out any thing peculiar in their form or motions to guide him, and he was equally at fault in regard to the voices. He stood quiet when he found that resistance was useless; but he determined to keep a sharp lookout for an opportunity to release himself from his mortifying situation.

"Now, you——"

"My name is Dobbin," added the false voice.

Richard did not remember any such name, though he had heard the roll called in all the companies, and he concluded that it was a "blind," to deceive him.

"Now, Dobbin, take him off, and we will settle the case in the woods."

"Lead the way, Kennedy, and we will follow; but be careful and not make a noise."

"Hush!" said Dobbin; "somebody is coming."

"Grand rounds!" added Kennedy. "Hurry him off as quick as you can. Stuff a handkerchief in his mouth; choke him if he attempts to cry out."

"But they will miss him," suggested Dobbin, "and then there will be a row and a search."

"Off with him! Off with him! We shall all get caught," whispered Kennedy. "I will take his gun, and keep guard."

Richard was literally dragged from the spot, and the fellow who called himself Kennedy—though that was not his name—took the musket of the defeated sentinel, and began to travel his beat as regularly as though he had been duly detailed.

"Who comes there?" demanded he, as the officer of the day, attended by a sergeant and two men, approached his beat.

"Grand rounds," replied the sergeant.

"Halt, grand rounds! Advance, sergeant, with the countersign."

The sergeant advanced to give the countersign, without discovering that he had been challenged by the wrong man.

"Bennington" said the sergeant, giving the word appointed for the night.

"Advance, rounds!" added Kennedy, as he placed himself in the proper position.

The officer of the day passed on with his attendants, and as soon as the ceremony had been repeated with the next sentinel, Kennedy threw the musket upon the ground, and followed his companions into the forest. Taking a road which led into the wood, he soon overtook the rest of the party.

Richard was very curious to find out what his captors intended to do with him; for he could not even yet believe that any thing more serious than a practical joke was intended. He was not conscious that he had an enemy in the battalion, with the exception of Nevers, who, though he had bestowed a great many sneers and looks of hatred upon him during the week that had elapsed since the fight, had betrayed no intention to seek revenge for his defeat in fair fight. He knew that Nevers hated him, but he could not believe that he would resort to such underhand measures as the conspirators had adopted.

"What are you going to do?" asked he, after Kennedy had joined them.

"Shut up! You will find out soon enough."

Richard tried to open a conversation with them, but they were too wary to talk, and no one spoke except Dobbin and Kennedy. They conducted their prisoner half a mile, as he judged, from the camp, when they halted, and fastened Richard to a tree, seating themselves upon logs and stumps. The captive waited impatiently for the proceedings to commence.

CHAPTER XV.

RICHARD FINDS HIMSELF IN THE HANDS OF THE REGULATORS.

"Come, fellows, we have no time to spare," said Kennedy, when the party were seated, and Richard fastened to the tree. "We must finish this business at once."

"We are all ready," replied Dobbin.

"Ready for what?" demanded Richard.

"Ready to settle your case. We are going to give you the biggest licking you ever had in your life."

The prisoner thought this was rather doubtful; but as they could not be supposed to have any knowledge of the thrashing inflicted upon him by "Old Batterbones," he was willing to excuse any exaggerations of which they might be guilty. When the young ruffian spoke of flogging him, Richard could not help recalling the incident at the barn of the farmer on the Hudson. Then he was guilty, now he was innocent; and his feelings on the present occasion were as different from those of the former one as light is from darkness.

He had been captured while in the discharge of his duty, and was not conscious that he had given his assailants any cause of offence. He could not explain how it happened that he was not angry. He did not chafe in the bonds that confined him. The consciousness of being innocent of all offence before his comrades, sustained and supported him; and he felt a kind of proud superiority over his captors, which placed him out of the reach of fear, and even out of the reach of malice and revenge.

Richard was a courageous boy; he had been so in his foolish and vicious enterprises; but he was doubly so now, when his soul was free from the stain of transgression. He did not borrow any trouble about what his persecutors intended to do, though he felt a very natural curiosity to see the end of the adventure.

"Go on," replied Richard, calmly, as the spokesman of the party announced their intentions.

"Shall we tell him what for? Shall we try him?" asked Kennedy.

"Yes; let us give him a drum-head court martial. The licking won't do him any good if he don't know what it is for," replied Dobbin.

"Grant," said Kennedy, with the solemnity of a judge, "you have ruined the best fellow in Company D."

"He ruined himself," replied Richard.

"No, he didn't. Of what you did in fair fight in the grove, we haven't a word to say. But you have prejudiced the colonel against him, and caused him to be deprived of his warrant, which will prevent him from obtaining his commission at the next election. You set yourself up as a leader among the fellows before you had been a week in the school. Have you any thing to say?"

"Nothing, except that all your charges are false," answered Richard; and if there had been light enough to see it, a smile would have been discovered upon his countenance.

"In the interview with the principal, you pretended to be a saint, and to be sorry for what you had done. You did not stand up like a man, and take the consequences of your acts."

"Go on; I have nothing to say," added Richard, when the speaker paused.

"You are a dangerous fellow in the school. You intend to climb up yourself by pushing others down. We won't submit to it."

"What are you going to do?" coolly asked the prisoner.

"We are going to thrash you, as you deserve."

"You are brave fellows!" sneered Richard. "What you are afraid to do in the daylight, with fair play, you do by stealth and trickery in the night. You are a set of cowards, and if you will untie my hands I will whip the whole of you."

"That is very fine talk, Grant," said Kennedy, "but it don't amount to any thing."

"No talk is necessary to prove your cowardly meanness. Go on, and do your best. I am not afraid of the whole of you, even with my hands tied behind me. I despise the whole of you."

"We will give you a chance to escape."

"I don't ask any chance to escape."

"Grant, you talk like a fool."

"Better be a fool than a knave and a coward."

"We don't want to hurt you. There are fellows enough in our crowd to make Tunbrook Institute too hot to hold you. We advise you to write to your father, advising him to send you to some other school. Will you do so?"

"I will not," replied Richard, promptly.

"Then you must take the consequences. We are organized, and we are determined that you shall leave. If you ask your father, and insist upon it, no doubt he will take you away."

"Very likely he would," added Richard, "but I shall not ask him to do so."

"You plainly don't understand what is in store for you. Our plans are well laid, and we have been through the same mill once before. A fellow about your size, and one who could fight as well as you do, had to leave about a year ago. He undertook to be a leader before his time came. We hunted him out, as we shall you."

"When you hunt me out, I will go, but not till then."

"Grant, this is all idle talk on your part. You don't understand your situation. We can count up fifty fellows belonging to our association. We can drive out any fellow who makes himself obnoxious. We mean to be fair, and we are willing that any fellow who works his way up should have all the honors he wins. But do you suppose we fellows, who have been here two or three years, and who have worked ourselves up, are going to step one side for a fellow who has been here only a week or two?"

"Who asks you to step aside?" demanded Richard, indignantly, for this show of fair play had touched him in a tender spot, and in spite of himself he began to be interested in the argument.

"You do; you have licked the best fellow in the school, and then you begin to play saint, and curry favor with the colonel. You mean to lead, and not follow."

"I mean to be and do just what circumstances require."

"Grant, there is no such thing as misunderstanding your position. What your looks indicate is more than all you may say with your mouth, or do with your hands. You are a dangerous fellow, and you must leave, or compromise."

"What do you mean by compromise?"

"We'll let you stay if you will keep in your proper position."

"What is my proper position?"

"At the foot of the ladder, of course, till the fellows above you have got out of the way."

"You mean Nevers?"

"Nevers and others."

"I will agree to no such compromise. All the officers, I am informed, are chosen by ballot."

"They are."

"Then, of course, the fellows can choose whom they please."

"They can; and since you have whipped Nevers, they will elect you; and those who have done their duty for two or three years must go into the shade. If you will agree to step one side, we will promise to let you alone. Will you do it?"

"I will not."

"Mind what you do, for if the 'Regulators' make war upon you, they will drive you out."

"The what?"

"The Regulators. They are a secret society for certain purposes. It is a powerful organization, Grant, I can tell you. If you will do the right thing, we will take you in."

"No you won't. I'm not to be taken in by any such bait," replied Richard, who was disposed to laugh at the ridiculous association that had taken upon itself the duty of regulating the affairs of the Tunbrook Institute.

"You may sneer as much as you please. Every fellow in the school knows there is such a society, but no one but members can tell who belong to it. We mean to have fair play in this institution, and we have never yet failed in getting it."

"Come, Kennedy, you will talk all night," said Dobbin. "You can't do any thing with him."

"Well, Grant, you may leave, compromise, or take the consequences. Which will you do?"

"I will not leave; and I certainly will not compromise on the terms named. I mean to behave myself like a man, while I am here. If any one is a better fellow than I am, I will step one side for him, as I must. If any fellow gets above me in the class, I will not complain, or attempt to pull him down. If the fellows think I am fit to be a sergeant, or a captain, or a corporal, I shall abide their decision. I won't pull any fellow down, or be pulled down myself. I think the Regulators are a mean, dirty, cowardly set of bullies, who mean to build themselves up by pulling others down. Let every fellow be judged by his own merits. That's my opinion. Now you can do what you please."

And they did do what they pleased, though it was evident the Regulators were not accustomed to deal with so stubborn a subject. At the word from Kennedy, who seemed to be the chief of the society, the whole band fell upon Richard with sticks which they had cut in the woods, and gave him a most unmerciful beating. The prisoner bore it with silent disdain. He felt that the cause in which he was engaged was a good one, and he did not flinch from the penalty of fidelity.

At the word from the chief, they suspended the flagellation, and Kennedy again attempted to bring him to terms by argument, but it was in vain.

"Very well," said he, evidently disappointed at the ill success of the reasoning process. "This is only the first installment of what is your due. When any thing goes wrong with you, when you get into a scrape, when you find the ushers and the colonel down upon you, just understand that the Regulators are round. You have fifty enemies now, instead of one, as you had two hours ago."

"That's all, Kennedy; don't say any more," interposed Dobbin, impatiently. "Let's take him back now. He will find out the rest of it fast enough."

If Richard could have heard the conversation among the Regulators before they waited upon him, he might have been flattered by the complimentary manner in which his name was handled. His talents and his muscle, no less than his growing popularity, were appreciated by the band, and it was more desirable to win him than it was to drive him out. They knew what a valuable acquisition he would be to their number. But he must stand one side, and wait for his turn before he aspired to become a leader.

The Regulators, using the utmost caution, unloosed the prisoner, and marched him back to the camp. When they reached the line, they threw him upon the ground. While one of the largest of them, having all the advantage, held him there, the others disappeared in the darkness. The fellow that held him then removed the strap from the arms of the captive, and bounded away as fast as his legs would carry him.

Richard jumped up as quick as he could and gave chase. But the Regulator had the start of him, and the pursuit was useless. The victim returned to his beat, felt round upon the ground till he found his gun, picked it up, and resumed his solitary walk. He was a little confused by the events which had transpired, and he was forced to acknowledge that the Regulators had managed their business with consummate address and skill. He hardly knew what to make of the affair. He knew that he had been whipped; this fact was still patent to his consciousness in the tingling sensation that played over his legs.

The whole thing seemed very much like an illusion. It was almost too strange and ridiculous to be credited, and he could not help considering whether he had not actually been walking in his sleep this time. The Regulators appeared, to his sober senses, to be the most absurd institution ever invented by the mischievous brain of a boy. Yet he could not disbelieve the evidence of his senses, and especially of his smarting legs, and he was compelled to admit that the society actually existed; though there was a remote possibility that the whole affair was a practical joke, devised by Nevers and his clique.

We have before intimated, in the course of this story, that Richard Grant was an "old head." He had a very tolerable conception of the principles of strategy; therefore he did not do as most boys would have done—make a tremendous row over the occurrences of the night. He decided that it would be politic for him to keep both eyes and both ears open, while he kept his mouth closed. By this course he hoped to obtain a clew to the mystery, and thus eventually to make the daylight shine in upon the dark proceedings of the Regulators.

"Where have you been this hour?" demanded the sentinel, whose beat was next to his own, when they met.

"I haven't been far off," replied Richard; "that is, not more than half a mile off," he added, in a tone so low that his companion could not hear him.

"I understand. You have been taking a nap."

"'Pon my word, I haven't."

"But you have; I haven't seen you before for an hour."

"I haven't been asleep."

"Honor bright, Grant, haven't you?" asked his companion, good naturedly.

"No, I haven't."

"Where were you when the grand rounds were made?"

"I was close by."

"Of course you were, or you would have been missed," added his neighbor, as he turned on his heel and made off.

Richard thought he was very easily satisfied, and he wondered if he wasn't a member of the secret band of Regulators. Our sentinel marched to the other end of his beat. His neighbor on this side had missed him, but he was as easily satisfied as the other had been, and Richard wondered whether he was not a Regulator.

While he was musing upon the extraordinary events of the night, the relief came round, and he was marched to the guard tent, where, for four hours, he had an opportunity to dream of the Regulators, and their secret management of the affairs of the Tunbrook Institute.