Chapter V · TO OBEY, OR NOT TO OBEY.

I think our brave fellows were more frightened than hurt; for if the water in the wash-boiler was hot, it was not in condition to scald them after it had passed through the cold syringe. Some of them were a little red in spots on the face and hands; but as warriors, in this piping time of peace, they had not been above dodging, and in consequence, none of them were seriously damaged. Without using the obnoxious first line of the old couplet, they were in condition to fight another day.

The battle was certainly a very humorous one, Jed, in spite of his arduous labors was convulsed with laughter. Clarissa, the pretty girl, was now very rosy, but whether from her exertions with the dipper or with laughing, I was unable to determine. The old farmer and his wife were both in excellent humor; and it was plain enough that we were to be laughed out of the battle, if we were not actually driven off the field. The mutinous troops who had refused to take part in the action were quite as much amused as the people of the farm.

Major Tommy Toppleton retreated before his routed column, which followed him down the road a short distance. The savage assailants did not offer to pursue their discomfited foe, and I had no doubt that the commander would call a council of war among his friends. I did not expect him to renew the attack under the present circumstances, or, at least, not till the water in the boiler had cooled off. Jed and his father, however, carried the kettle into the house, either to enable the old lady to continue her Monday morning operations, or to keep the water hot for another emergency, or possibly for both.

“Well, Ned, what is going to be the end of all this?” said Briscoe, walking up to me after the storm of battle had subsided.

“I don’t know,” I replied. “We must wait and see what Tommy does. Of course we are ready to obey any reasonable orders.”

“I am not exactly sure of that, after what has happened. Suppose the major wishes us to march back to Middleport. Shall we go?”

“I suppose we must,” I replied rather dubiously. “As both of us happen to be suspended just now, I conclude that we have nothing more to do with this business.”

We sheathed our swords by mutual consent, and seated ourselves on the fence at the side of the road to wait for the “moving of the waters.”

“What are we to do?” asked Crampton, one of the privates in my company.

“I’m sure I don’t know,” I answered, laughing. “I am willing to obey all reasonable orders, and I suppose you ought to do the same.”

“We are ready to stand by you,” added Dunbold, a corporal of the first company.

“We have the majority,” said Sergeant Langdon, suggestively.

“We don’t want to make a row yet,” continued Crampton. “There will be one about to-morrow noon, when we vote for officers. You know the balloting is to come off then. It can only be postponed by a vote of the battalion.”

“I am suspended from duty, and of course, I haven’t anything to say,” I added.

“That’s just my case,” said Briscoe. “I would rather keep quiet till after the election.”

It was evident to me that we were on the very verge of the long-expected mutiny. The president of the Lake Shore Railroad Company, and the major of the battalion had ruled us with a rod of iron. We had borne it longer than we intended; and the present occasion, when we were beyond the reach of outside influences, seemed to be favorable for the final settlement of the matter. As students, we were the equals, in every respect, of Tommy Toppleton, and we were determined to make him treat us like gentlemen.

While Briscoe and myself were discussing the situation, Sergeant Hacker, one of the major’s adherents, advanced towards us. He looked as though he had come upon a desperate mission, for his lips were compressed, his eyebrows knit, and his step very decided.

“Captain Briscoe.”

“Sergeant Hacker.”

“Major Toppleton orders you to march your company down the road,” continued the messenger, pointing to the place where Tommy had halted.

“All right! I will do so,” replied Briscoe.

The captain of the first company gave his orders, and his command moved off, leaving my company and the band opposite the house. Hacker returned to the major, but immediately appeared again with an order for me to join the main body with the mutinous portion of my company. Tommy looked wrathful and disgusted, as he always did when he had been thwarted in his purposes.

“I am glad that you have concluded to obey orders,” said he, with an obvious sneer in his tone and manner, as I saluted him, after halting my company.

“I shall always be ready to obey any reasonable order,” I replied, respectfully.

“Reasonable!” exclaimed he. “What do you mean by reasonable?”

“Involving anything which it is proper for the battalion to do,” I replied.

“Who is to determine whether it is proper or not?” demanded Tommy.

“I should say that you were, in the first place, before you gave the order,” I answered, careful not to provoke his anger.

“I should say there was a mutiny in the line,” added the major. “I don’t want to argue the matter now. When I give an order, I intend to be obeyed, whether you consider it reasonable or not.”

I made no reply, and the little major looked as pompous as though the question had been forever settled. I thought we could all afford to wait until the next day at noon, when the election was to take place: for it was a sure thing, if the balloting was fairly conducted, that Tommy would be ousted from his position and Briscoe elected in his place. The matter, so far as the chief command was concerned, was settled, and the only question which had not yet been determined was whether or not Tommy should be elected to some other office.

Jed, his father, and Clarissa had taken position in the middle of the road, where they could observe the movements of the battalion. They were evidently willing that we should continue our march, and I hoped Tommy would be sensible enough to adopt this course though it was expecting rather too much of him to permit his enemy to remain unpunished for a single day. He wheeled the battalion into line, and capered the sorrel pony along a couple of times in front, glancing fiercely from his warriors to the enemy before the house, apparently doubtful in regard to his next move. Finally he halted and it was evident that he intended to make a speech.

“Fellows, I have been insulted!” said he, savagely. “Shall it be said that the whole battalion was beaten back by two men and two women?”

“The whole battalion was not beaten back,” retorted Corporal Dunbold.

“Silence in the ranks!” exclaimed the major. “Will you stand by me, or not?”

“We will!” shouted Tommy’s adherents; but the rest of the line said nothing.

“I thought you would. I was not willing to believe that my fellows would desert me when I wanted them most. I’m going to give that Jed a mauling; if I don’t, there will be some bones broken somewhere.”

Tommy was rapidly lashing himself into a fury, and would soon be in condition to undertake a desperate enterprise. I do not think he would face the hot water again; but the foe still stood in the road, seemingly unconscious of peril, and the sight of them was raising the major’s blood to the boiling point. What could he do? Being only a boy myself, though I claimed to be a gentleman at the same time, I was curious to see issue of the adventure, while I was firmly resolved to take no part in it, even if I was court-martialed, and dismissed from the service for disobedience.

Ever since the battle on the Horse Shoe, Tommy had been in favor of flank movements. Wolf Penniman, though no soldier, had taught him a lesson in tactics which he had not learned before. In fact, Wolf seemed to have the tact to manage almost any difficult case. I saw the major survey the locality of the barn in the rear of the house, and the fields adjoining. I had no doubt he was planning a diversion.

“Captain Scotchley, you will march your company through this field to the rear of the barn, and there await further orders,” said Tommy, addressing me, with a flourish of his sword to point out the lots through which I was to pass.

The field indicated was green with new wheat, and to march through it would be to inflict serious injury upon the farmer. I at once came to the conclusion that the order was an unreasonable one.

“That is a wheat field, Major Toppleton,” I mildly suggested, though I knew very well that my remark would have no weight with the headstrong young magnate.

“What of it?” demanded he.

“Marching through that field will damage the wheat.”

“I don’t care if it does! It belongs to this old farmer, whose son insulted me. He takes his son’s part, and he must also bear the consequences.”

“But he can prosecute you in the court for trespass, and make you pay the damage.”

“I don’t care for the damage. I’m going to be even with that fellow before I leave this place.”

“I would rather not take part in doing this mischief,” I replied.

“I suppose you mean to say that my order is an unreasonable one.”

“I did not put it in just that form, but that is what I mean.”

“I suspended you once, Captain Skotchley.”

“I am aware that you did.”

“As you obeyed my next order, I was going to let it pass, and say nothing more about it,” said Tommy, biting his lips.

“I will obey any and every order which comes within the line of my duty.”

“A soldier should obey his superior without any question,” retorted the major.

“Not always,” I replied.

“Yes, always!” exclaimed Tommy, fiercely.

“Suppose the colonel of the regiment, in a time of peace, should order one of his captains to shoot ten men of his company,” I suggested, calling up a supposition which had been used in the lecture-room of the Institute.

“That is not a supposable case.”

“The colonel might be attacked with sudden insanity.”

“Do you mean to say I am insane?”

“I did not say anything of the kind. Our lecturer on military tactics was willing to grant that there could be instances when the inferior was not bound to obey the superior—nay, where it was his duty to disobey him.”

“If there are such cases, this is not one of them,” growled Tommy.

“I think it is. The battalion is out upon a tour of camp duty, and in everything relating to that I will obey orders. But I won’t have anything to do with avenging fancied insults.”

“Then you think that pulling me off my horse, and pitching me into the dirt, is only a fancied insult?” sneered Tommy.

“That was only part of the affair,” I replied. “You ought to prosecute the man in court. You have no right to take the law into your own hands.”

“Shut up!” snapped Tommy, as he rode away from me in disgust.