TOM was astonished as well as delighted that he had escaped so easily; for, understanding the ’squire’s disposition as well as he did, he had expected to be severely dealt with. The ’squire had said that he “looked mean,” and Tom had told him that he felt so; but one, to have seen him at that moment, would have had cause to doubt it, for he looked, and indeed felt, as if he had done a very smart thing. He had been a prisoner in the hands of the Philistines, and had escaped without a whipping, and, more than that, without divulging the names of any of his accomplices. But, after all, he had no cause to pride himself upon this point, for the ’squire had not asked him who his companions were. Had that gentleman taken the trouble to inquire into the matter, Tom, in order to screen himself, would have told him every thing he wanted to know.

When the grand commander reached the common, he suddenly found himself surrounded by his friends, who, after placing a safe distance between themselves and the ’squire’s dogs, had waited for Tom to come up.

“What did he do to you?” asked Johnny, eagerly.

“O, nothing,” replied Tom. “If some of you had been in my place, you would not have escaped as easily as I did.”

“Did he ask you who were with you?” inquired another.

“It wouldn’t have made any difference if he had,” answered the grand commander, indignantly. “Do you suppose that I would split on you? We are safe out of the scrape, and that’s the end of it.”

But in this, Tom was very much mistaken; it was by no means the end of it, as he found the next day. In fact, he did not believe that the ’squire would allow the matter to drop there. He fully expected that his father would soon hear the full particulars of his night’s work, and he was anxious to know what he would do about it. However, Tom kept all his fears to himself, and when he left the Night-hawks, he walked off whistling, as if he felt perfectly at his ease. He reached home in safety, succeeded in climbing up the porch into his room without disturbing any one in the house, and when he appeared at the breakfast table in the morning, he had the satisfaction of seeing that not one of the family knew any thing of his conduct over night.

When he had eaten his breakfast, he walked out on the lawn, and sat down to think over the question that had occupied his mind the day before, namely: What should he do next? But, contrary to his expectations, his evening with the Night-hawks had not quickened his ideas, for he was still unable to decide upon the business he ought to follow. He might, however, have spared himself the trouble of debating upon this question; for when he went down to the office, about ten o’clock, he found that his father had at last “taken the matter into his own hands,” as he had often threatened to do, and decided the matter for him.

“Tom,” said Mr. Newcombe, as the boy entered the office, “I was just on the point of starting in search of you. I want you to take a walk with me.”

So saying, the merchant picked up his hat and cane, and left the office, followed by Tom, who was lost in wonder. He would have given every thing he possessed to know what was the matter; but, fearing that his father had heard of what had been going on at the ’squire’s farm, he could not muster up courage enough to ask any questions. Mr. Newcombe walked through the village without making any remark, and finally stopped in front of the military school, a large building that stood on a hill, about a quarter of a mile from Newport, in the midst of extensive grounds, which were tastefully laid out, the whole being inclosed with a high picket fence, which pointed out the boundary of the students’ little world.

“Why, father,” exclaimed Tom, as Mr. Newcombe knocked at the gate, “I haven’t told you that I wanted to come here!”

“I know you haven’t,” replied the merchant; “at least you haven’t said so in words; but you have said, by your actions, that you can’t be trusted, so I have concluded to put you where you will be closely watched.”

This made it evident to Tom that his father knew all about what had happened the night before.

“I think this is just the place for you,” continued Mr. Newcombe.

“O, I always was an unlucky boy,” drawled Tom. “I never can do any thing like other fellows. I had almost made up my mind to go into the office as errand boy—”

“It’s too late now!” replied his father. “Besides, I don’t want a boy in my office that I can’t trust.”

During the two minutes that they stood at the gate waiting for some one to open it, Tom raised all sorts of objections to his father’s arrangement, but could not induce him to change his mind. Mr. Newcombe never acted without mature deliberation, and when he had once decided upon his course, it was a hard matter to turn him from it. So Tom, in spite of himself, became a member of the military academy. He listened to the reading of the rules and regulations, reluctantly promised to obey them all, and, in the presence of his father, signed the muster-rolls; after which, Mr. Newcombe took leave of the principal, promising to return with Tom as soon as his uniform could be procured.

For two days after that Tom was a most miserable boy. He still entertained some hopes that he might be able to turn his father from his purpose, and, to accomplish his object, he invented all sorts of excuses and promises; but his efforts were unsuccessful. The merchant had decided that the military school was the best place for Tom, and the latter finally came to the conclusion that he would bear his punishment like a man.

One afternoon, for want of something better to do, Tom saddled his pony and took a short ride about the village. As he was returning home, he passed by the academy, and saw a company of boys engaged in drilling in the bayonet exercise. He dismounted, tied his pony to the fence, and watched the drill as long as it continued; and, when he rode toward home, his opinion concerning the military school had changed materially. He was astonished at the ease and skill with which the young soldiers handled their muskets, and, more than all, he admired and envied the captain—a youth about his own age.

“Perhaps it isn’t so bad, after all,” he soliloquized. “I always thought that I’d like to go to that academy. If a fellow like that can get a commission, I’d like to know what’s the reason I can’t get one also. I don’t intend to remain a private long. I shall work for shoulder-straps, and, the first thing some of those officers know, I’ll make them take back seats. I’ll certainly be captain of one of the companies in two or three weeks, and, after that, I shall have an easy time of it. Won’t I feel gay, sporting my shoulder-straps about the village? Then, after I get through here, I’ll go to West Point, and from there to the army; and then I’ll soon be promoted to general. I am all right now. I have decided to be a soldier.”

Tom was now as impatient to get into the military school as he had before been anxious to keep out of it; and, on the way home, he stopped at the tailor’s where his uniforms were being made, and requested that the work might be completed as soon as possible, as he was losing valuable time. At the supper table, that night, he surprised his father by informing him that he also had decided that the “military school was the place for him;” that he had always thought that he was “cut out for a general;” and that if Mr. Newcombe would visit the camp the coming fall, he would see his son wearing a captain’s uniform.

“You must remember that you have been disappointed a good many times,” said the merchant.

“I know it,” replied Tom; “but I am all right this time. I know I shall succeed. I’ll be captain of one of the academy companies in less than three weeks.”

“You’ll have to work hard for it,” said his father, “for you’ll find some smart boys there.”

“I don’t care!” said Tom, confidently. “I’ll beat them all. I’m bound to be the highest officer in the academy.”

That week was a long one to Tom, but, to his immense relief, the arrangements were all completed at last, and one afternoon, about half-past three o’clock, the new student, dressed in his uniform, found himself standing in the presence of the principal. Mr. Newcombe had accompanied him to the academy, and, after urging him to make the best possible use of his time, and to strictly obey all the rules and regulations, he bade him good-by, and returned to his office, satisfied that he had left his son in safe hands for a few months, at least.

“Now, Newcombe,” said the principal—a tall, dignified, military-looking man—“you are a member of the Newport Military Academy. I shall expect to hear a good account of you.”

“I shall do my best, sir,” replied Tom. “I want to be an officer, and I would like to know how to go to work to get a commission.”

“There is but one way,” replied the principal, with a smile, “and that is very simple. If you strictly obey the rules and regulations, you will be entitled to your shoulder-straps.”

“How long before I can get them?” asked Tom.

“Not until the first of next quarter. That will give you two months in which to prepare for the examination. Remember, now, that you are expected to read the rules and regulations until you know just what to do, and how to do it. You will find several copies of them hung up in your dormitory, so that you can have them close at hand for reference.”

The professor then faced to the right, with as much precision as if he had been standing in the ranks, with a musket on his shoulder; going to his desk, he opened a large book, which Tom thought looked like the ledger in his father’s office; and, after turning over the leaves for a moment, rang a bell, which was presently answered by a servant belonging to the academy.

“Thomas Newcombe, dormitory H, number thirteen,” said the principal. “Now, you may go with this man, and he will show you where you belong. I hope that I shall soon be able to assign you new quarters, for the students in that dormitory belong to the lowest class in school.”

Tom’s trunk, which contained his clothing, each article of which was marked with his name, stood in the hall, just outside the principal’s door. This the man raised to his shoulder; and, after conducting Tom up a flight of stairs, ushered him into a large, airy room. This was dormitory H, which was destined to be the new student’s quarters, not for a short time, as the principal fondly hoped, but during his entire stay at the academy. On both sides of the room, and at one end, were arranged the beds belonging to the students. At the left of the entrance, were two rooms, one of which belonged to the assistant teacher, who had charge of the dormitory, and the other to the officers commanding that company. The dormitory was filled with students, all of whom appeared to be busily engaged with their books.

The man conducted Tom between the two rows of beds, until he arrived at the further end of the room, where he stopped and pointed to a number painted on a piece of tin, which was hung against the wall.

“There’s number thirteen,” said he. “This bed belongs to you.”

As soon as the man had left the dormitory, some of the students, who had been closely watching Tom, gathered about him, as if they were impatient to make his acquaintance. The latter felt somewhat embarrassed when he found himself surrounded by so many strangers; but, wishing to make a favorable impression upon them, he tried hard to look unconcerned, and prepared to receive their advances as graciously as possible.

“How are you, my son?” began one of the boys.

“My son!” repeated Tom, in astonishment.

“Well, then, tell us what your name is? You are a greeny, are you not?”

“Now, see here,” drawled Tom, “I want you to quit calling me greeny. I’ll tell the teacher if you don’t look out.”

This speech showed another trait in Tom’s character. He was a “tell-tale;” and when he became involved in trouble with any of his school-mates, he never undertook to defend himself, but hurried off to lay the matter before the teacher. It was evident that he intended to continue the practice at the academy.

“You’ll tell the teacher, will you!” exclaimed the boy who had first addressed him. “Then we have seen enough of you. Let him alone, fellows; he’s a Spooney and working for a commission.”

At this moment, two boys entered the dormitory; and, seeing the crowd gathered about Tom’s bed, they approached, and worked their way through the students, to obtain a view of the new-comer; and the latter was delighted when he recognized Eugene Rich and Augustus Miller, two of his very intimate friends, and members of the society of Night-hawks. They expressed much joy at meeting Tom. After they had shaken hands with him, Rich turned to the boy who had called the new student a “greeny,” exclaiming:

“See here, Dick Martin, you had better mind what you are about! Newcombe is an old friend of mine, and if you know when you are well off, you won’t fool with him much.”

“That’s a fact,” said Miller. “Better apologize.”

This put an entirely new aspect on the case. Tom had already seen that he had made a blunder when he threatened to “tell the teacher,” and he was wondering how he could restore himself to favor. This could only be done by a proper exhibition of “spunk,” which would show the students that, although he had threatened to appeal to the principal for protection, he still had the ability to defend himself, and that he was one who could not be tormented with impunity. Had he been left to himself, he would not have known how to act; but when he found that his two friends were ready to stand by him, he suddenly became very courageous.

“I certainly didn’t mean to insult him,” said Martin. “When I inquired if he was a greeny, I only wanted to know if he had ever attended a military school before. I take it all back.”

“Better look out,” said Tom, shaking his head, threateningly. “I don’t stand much nonsense.”

“I always knew you were a spunky chap, Tom,” said Miller. “But Martin didn’t mean anything. He’s an old chum of mine; so shake hands and be friends.”

Martin, accordingly extended his hand, which was accepted by Tom, who drew himself up to his full height, and thrust out his chest, to make himself appear as much like a soldier as possible, at the same time favoring his new friend with a glance which was intended to prove the truth of what he had said but a moment before—that he was a boy that “wouldn’t stand much nonsense.”

“That’s right,” said Rich, who appeared to be a sort of leader among his companions. “Now, sit down here, Newcombe. You don’t know how often I have wished for you,” he continued, as Tom seated himself on the bed. “It’s lonesome here, and we want some brave, strong fellow to propose some fun for us, and to help us out in it. (Here Tom straightened himself up again, and assumed what he considered to be a very reckless look, as if to assure the students standing about that he was the very fellow they wanted.) By the way, what are the Night-hawks doing now?”

Rich had been a member of the academy ever since the commencement of the session (five months), and during this time had never once been granted a furlough for a single hour. He was a lazy, good-for-nothing boy, more fond of mischief than of his books, and, as a consequence, he was always behindhand in his lessons; and, from being the fifth in the highest class in school, he had been “promoted backward,” until he found himself in the lowest class but one in the academy. He was too lazy to exert himself to regain his lost position; he was up before a court-martial nearly every month for some violation of the rules, and spent more than half his time in working out the punishments to which he was sentenced. His friend and right-hand man, Miller, was often in the same predicament; and this was the reason why they had never been allowed any privileges. Miller had been a shining light among the Night-hawks, holding the office of fourth colonel, while Rich was a second lieutenant, in good standing; and, having been confined so long, it was natural that they should wish to hear from the young rogues about the village.

Tom, being well posted in the movements of the Night-hawks, proceeded to give a glowing description of their recent exploit. The students listened eagerly; and Tom, finding himself surrounded by an appreciative audience, “spread” himself to the best of his ability. He was not mean enough to stoop to actual falsehood, but he so exaggerated the achievements of the Night-hawks, especially that portion of them in which he had been engaged, that it left the impression on the minds of his hearers that Tom had been the daring leader of a very daring lot of fellows. After he had finished his story, he expressed a desire to learn something about the life before him, the duties that would be required of him, the nature of his studies, and the extent of his privileges. Rich volunteered to give him the information, but, just as he was about to begin, some one near the door called out, in a low tone:

“Attention, company!”

The effect of these words not a little surprised Tom, for the boys all hurriedly left him, and running to their beds, picked up their books, and in a moment all appeared to be deeply interested in their studies. Rich and Miller, who did not belong in that dormitory, and who were disobeying the rules by being in there during study hours, hastily retreated into the hall, and made the best of their way to their own quarters. As Tom sat on his bed, wondering at the strange behavior of the students, a step was heard in the hall, and presently one of the assistant teachers entered the dormitory. After looking about the room a moment, to satisfy himself that the boys were all at work, he called out—

“Newcombe!”

Tom, wondering what he was wanted for, arose from his seat and looked at the teacher without answering.

“Newcombe!” said the professor, in a louder tone.

“Well, here I am!” exclaimed Tom—a reply that caused a suppressed laughing among all the students in the room.

“Come here, Newcombe!” said the teacher; “and hereafter, when you are called,” he continued, as Tom approached him, “you will answer ‘Here, sir.’ Come down into the school-room with me, and I will show you your lessons.”

The principal of the academy had learned something of Tom’s past history from his father, and had also been made acquainted with the fact that the boy had accomplished absolutely nothing in his studies. This had been communicated to the assistant teacher, Mr. Hudson, under whose charge Tom was placed, so that he had no difficulty in determining to which class he ought to assign the new student. His lessons for the morrow, in all the different branches, were duly pointed out to him; and Tom was again directed to carefully read the rules and regulations, so that he might know what hours of the day were devoted to study, and what to recreation.

“Now, Newcombe,” said the teacher, “you will begin work to-morrow morning. Captain, Captain Preston!” he added, in a louder tone, calling to a boy who at that moment happened to pass through the hall, “step here a moment, if you please.”

The young officer entered the room, and the teacher continued—

“Here’s another raw recruit for you, captain. His name is Newcombe, and he belongs to dormitory H, number thirteen.”

Captain Preston pulled a memorandum-book from his pocket, and, after writing down Tom’s name and number, he turned to the new student and said:

“To-morrow afternoon, at three o’clock, I shall expect to see you in the armory.”

This was all the captain thought it was then necessary to say; but it was enough to make Tom his enemy. The officer was at least two years younger than the new student, and the latter did not like the idea of being obliged to obey his orders. Tom also noticed that the teacher had addressed him in the most respectful language; that he had said, “Step this way, if you please,” and that was another thing that made him angry. It also had the effect of making him more determined than ever to get out of the ranks, if there was any possible way for him to do it.

As Tom started to return to his quarters, he heard the roll of a drum calling the students to dress parade—an exercise in which all the scholars who had learned the manual of arms were required to engage. The young soldiers came out of their rooms, and, after taking their muskets from the armory, each company was formed by its officers in front of the building, and marched to the parade ground. The principal stood on the porch watching these movements, and, when the battalion was marched away, he followed it, accompanied by Tom and a few more raw recruits, who were not expected to join in the review.

The students kept step admirably to the music of drum and fife; every order was executed promptly and without the least confusion; and Tom was delighted with all he saw. When they reached the parade ground, and the battalion had been drawn up in line, Tom was astonished to discover that a boy about his own age suddenly appeared and assumed the command. After seeing that the line was properly formed, he walked toward the principal, who stood a short distance in front of the students, then faced about, executing the movement with as much grace and precision as if he had been a soldier all his life, and ordered the battalion to “Present arms.” When the command had been obeyed, he faced about again, and, after saluting the principal with his sword, advanced and took a position behind him. Tom closely watched all his movements, and was finally obliged to confess to himself that he had a great deal to learn before he could become an officer.

“Who is that fellow?” he asked, turning to one of the raw recruits who stood beside him.

“That’s Bill Steele, the adjutant,” was the answer. “Isn’t he gay? He handles that sword like an old cavalry man. He understands the broadsword exercise to a dot. He’s our drill-master.”

“Humph!” sneered the new student. “He isn’t much.”

The raw recruit had spoken in the highest terms of the adjutant, and that was something Tom could not endure, for it seemed to widen the gulf which he saw lay between him and the coveted commission. Although he had said that the officer “wasn’t much,” Tom really thought he was a great deal. He admired his graceful movements and his soldierly bearing—two things which he knew that it was impossible for him to imitate. Being entirely unacquainted with the relative rank of the officers, he thought no more about his captain’s shoulder-straps just then. He wanted to be the officer that had the most authority; consequently he envied the adjutant, and he made up his mind that, in a very short time, Bill Steele would be obliged to take a lower position, while he would assume the honors himself. But, as the parade progressed, Tom again began to doubt his ability to obtain any office, for he heard so many orders issued that it did not seem possible that he could ever learn them all.

“How long does it take a fellow to get the hang of this business?” he asked, turning to the raw recruit.

“Not long,” was the answer. “I’ve been here only three weeks, and I’ll go on dress parade next Monday. There are not many in the academy that can beat me handling a musket or a broadsword.”

This, in some measure, reassured Tom, who again turned his attention to the parade. When it was concluded, the companies were marched back to the armory, and the work for the day was over until seven o’clock that evening. As soon as the students had taken care of their weapons, some of them started toward the gymnasium, some went back to the parade-ground to engage in a game of ball, a few studious ones resumed their books, while others prepared to idle away the time under the trees. Among the latter was Tom Newcombe, who had been joined by Martin, Rich, and Miller.

“Well, old fellow, what do you think of the academy?” asked the latter, as he threw himself on the grass beside Tom.

“It’s splendid,” replied the new student.

“Yes,” said Martin, with a laugh, “it is splendid, if you have nothing to do but stand by, with your hands in your pockets, and look on. You forget the two hours’ daily drill, with muskets and broadswords.”

“And our long, difficult lessons, with six hours’ hard study,” chimed in Rich.

“And the guard-house,” said Miller, who had once spent two weeks in that pleasant abode, for attempting to desert the academy.

“The guard-house!” repeated Tom.

“Yes, sir; the prison,” said Miller, “with nothing but bread-and-water diet.”

“But I’m going to be an officer!” said the new student.

“Now, now, Newcombe; none of that!” exclaimed all the boys in a breath.

“Don’t be a Spooney,” said Martin.

“O, now, look here,” drawled Tom, “I want you to quit calling me Spooney.”

“He didn’t say you were a Spooney,” interposed Rich; “he told you not to be one. You are too honorable to want to be an officer, when I tell you that the last one of them is a Spooney. The only way they get their positions is by toadying to the colonel—that’s the principal, you know. They are regular tell-tales; and if you don’t want to be punished, you must be careful what you say before them, for every word you utter will go straight to the colonel’s ears. In fact, there are but a very few boys in the academy that a decent fellow can trust. I was an officer once—I was second lieutenant of Company A; and, as I have been behind the curtain, I know just how affairs are conducted. If I wanted a commission, I would loaf about the grounds until I heard some fellow complaining about something, and then I would go and tell the colonel of it. I could easily exchange my musket for a sword by doing that; but wouldn’t you call it a mean trick?”

“Yes I would,” replied Tom, emphatically. But the truth was, he thought if he could earn a shoulder-strap as easily as that, he would not hesitate to do it; and he treasured up this last remark of Rich’s for future consideration.

“But I thought a fellow couldn’t be an officer unless he obeyed all the rules and regulations,” said Tom, at length.

“O, that’s all in your eye,” replied Martin. “The colonel stuffs every new student, and he has been trying his hand on you; I can see that without specs. Now, there’s Jim Williams, the captain of our company. I’ve known him to fail in his lessons day after day; and yet, at the end of the quarter, he has more extras than any other fellow in the class. I’ve seen him come on the parade-ground with dust on his boots, and his belt soiled; but I never knew him to lose any thing by it. If Rich, or Miller, or I, had been in his place, we would have had two hours’ guard duty at night with bricks in our knapsacks. The amount of the matter is, that the colonel has his favorites, and they can do as they please; but the others must stand from under.”

“Well, now, this beats me,” drawled Tom, after he had thought the matter over. “I always was the unluckiest boy in the whole world. I never can do any thing like other fellows, for something is always happening to bother me.”

“Why, what’s the matter now?” asked Rich.

“O, I wanted to be an officer; but I can’t.”

“Of course you can’t,” was the answer. “As I said before, you are too honorable to be an officer, and the sooner you get that ridiculous idea out of your head, the better it will be for you. But, boys, let’s take a walk about the grounds. I want to introduce Newcombe to the fellows in our set.”

So saying, Rich arose from the ground and led the way toward the gymnasium, where some of the students were exercising their muscles, under the direction of one of the teachers.