Don Gordon's Shooting-Box by Harry Castlemon (10 best novels of all time .TXT) 📕
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- Author: Harry Castlemon
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169“Did you ever hear of anything so very unfortunate?” whispered Fisher to his friend Duncan. “If there was any one of our fellows except Gordon in charge of this floor, we should be all right, for it is as dark as a pocket out of doors, and I know that that sentry could not have recognized us.”
“We ought never to have had anything to do with Gordon in the first place,” whispered Duncan, in reply.
“That’s what I have thought for a long time; but it is too late to mend the matter now. There they are,” he added, as the sound of footsteps on the stairs came to their ears. “It is all over with us now.”
So thought Don Gordon, only he used the word “me” instead of “us.” “I am in for it,” he soliloquized, “and I would give something to know what they will do with me. I’ll not go back on the boys, and that’s flat. The superintendent will give me a lively shake-up, of course; and then what will Bert say? What will mother think?”
When the officer of the day, attended as usual by the corporal, came up the stairs, he found Don 170pacing slowly along the hall with his hands behind his back. They returned his salute, but did not speak to him. They went to the upper end of the hall and began a thorough examination of all the rooms, the officer of the day arousing the occupant of every bed, while the corporal held his lantern aloft so that the face of each one could be plainly seen. Don’s dummy would not have saved him this time. When they had satisfied themselves that no one on that floor was missing, and had tried the door opening into the hall that led to the fire-escape, they went up the stairs to look into the dormitories on the floors above. In a quarter of an hour they went back to the guard-room, and Don was left alone. Scarcely had the sound of their footsteps died away in the lower hall when a dozen doors were softly opened, and almost twice as many heads were thrust cautiously out. “What’s the row, Gordon?” was the whispered chorus that saluted Don’s ears. “What did the officer of the day wake us up for? Anybody out?”
“There’s no one out who belongs on this floor,” replied Don. “And if there has been anything going on up stairs, I don’t know it.”
171“What did he say to you?”
“Not a word!word!”
The students were all surprised to hear this, and there were some among them who were frightened as well. After a few more questions, which brought no information from Don for the simple reason that he had none to impart, the students all went back to bed except Fisher and Duncan, who lingered to have a word with Don in private. They were ill at ease, and told themselves that when the new fastenings were put on the doors, some new routine had been adopted of which they had not yet heard.
“Didn’t he ask you any questions at all—not a single one?” whispered Fisher.
“He didn’t open his lips,” answered Don.
“Didn’t say anything to you about reporting to him as soon as you were relieved, did he?” put in Duncan, who thought Don must surely be mistaken.
“How could he, when he didn’t open his lips?” asked Don, in reply.
“This is an unusual way of doing business,” said Tom, reflectively, “and there’s something about it that doesn’t look just right to me. Now, 172mark my words, fellows: they’re going to spring something new on us, and they will do it so suddenly, that it will knock us flatter than one of Cony Ryan’s pancakes. You’ll see.”
And sure enough they did.
BREAKING UP THE “SET.”
It was an eager and anxious lot of boys who answered to roll-call the next morning. Of course they knew that a party of their fellows had been challenged while they were attempting to run the guard, and they were impatient to learn who they were, and what the superintendent was going to do about it. Two things astonished and bewildered them: They could not imagine how the culprits had managed to leave the building and get back again so easily, and neither could they understand why the officer of the day had neglected to question the floor-guards. They believed, with Tom Fisher, that something new was to be “sprung” on them; and as soon as breakfast was over, they found out what it was. On ordinary occasions the quartermaster-sergeants marched their respective companies to and from the dining-hall; but on this particular morning the captains took command and led them to 174the drill-room, where they were drawn up in line as they were when preparing for dress-parade. The teachers were all there, and many a sly and inquiring glance was cast toward them; but their countenances revealed nothing.
“Right dress!—Front!” commanded the captains, as the companies came into line; and when these orders had been obeyed, the superintendent, who stood in the place that is occupied by the battalion commander during dress-parade, thus addressed them:
“Young gentlemen,” said he, and his tones were not near as stern and severe as the boys expected they would be, “I am sorry to hear that some of you attempted to run the guard last night. Heretofore, when such offences have been committed, it has been our rule to examine the floor-guards and sentries who were on duty at the time, but we have seldom succeeded in drawing from them any information that would lead to the detection of the guilty parties. A student who will prove false to his duty, and violate the confidence reposed in him, will not scruple to tell any number of falsehoods to conceal his wrong-doing. Now I intend, before these 175ranks are broken, to learn the names of all those who tried to run by post No. 8 last night, as well as the name of the floor-guard who permitted them to pass. The first sergeants will now call the roll, and you can answer ‘guilty,’ or ‘not guilty,’ just as your sense of honor may seem to dictate. If innocent, simply answer ‘here’ and keep your place in the ranks; if you are guilty, step three paces to the front. I put you all upon your honor.”
When the superintendent ceased speaking, the first sergeants moved to the front and centre of their respective companies, and the roll-call began. As it proceeded, more than one boy standing in the ranks of the third company tried to twist himself around so that he could catch a glimpse of Don Gordon’s face, hoping to see something there that would give him a hint of the course Don intended to pursue when his turn came to answer to his name.
“He certainly will not—he dare not—confess,” were the thoughts that passed through their minds. “If he does, he will be sent down, sure. If some one could only get a chance to whisper a word or two in his ear, we would come 176out all right yet, in spite of this honor business.”
The anxiety and alarm experienced by these boys showed very plainly in their countenances, and before the roll-call had been going on for two minutes, the superintendent could have stepped forward and picked out every one of the guard-runners.
The names of the boys belonging to the first and second companies were called in quick succession, and as yet nobody had stepped to the front. The culprits, in this instance, all belonged to the third class, with the single exception of Don Gordon, who, having long ago made up his mind what he would do, waited with some impatience to see how his companions in guilt would stand the test. The result was just what he might have expected.
“Clarence Duncan,” said the third company sergeant.
“Here,” answered the owner of that name, making a desperate but unsuccessful effort to appear at his ease.
“George W. Brown.”
“Here.”
177“Richard Henderson.”
“Here.”
“Thomas Fisher.”
“Here.”
“They’re a pack of cowards,” was Don’s mental comment. “Such fellows always are, and I ought to have known better than to take up with them. My last act in this school will be to show them and everybody else that I am just as willing to pay the fiddler as I am to dance.”
At last the sergeant of the fourth company began, and near the top of his list was the name—“Donald Gordon.”
There was no response to it; but to the intense amazement of everybody present, and the almost overwhelming consternation of some, Don stepped quickly and firmly to the front. No one outside the “set” would have thought of picking him out as a guard-runner. The sergeant hesitated and stammered over the next name, and there was a perceptible flutter among all except the first-class boys. They showed their three years’ drill and discipline by standing as stiff as so many posts and holding their eyes straight to the front; but they could not control their countenances, and 178surprise and sorrow were depicted upon every one of them. When the roll-call was ended the sergeants went back to their places, and Don was left standing alone. He had passed through one ordeal, and now came another.
“Gordon,” said the superintendent, “I am glad to see that you have too much manhood to take refuge behind a lie. I should have been very much surprised and grieved if you had showed me that I had formed a wrong opinion of you.”
These words made some of the guilty ones in the third class open their eyes. Duncan’s face grew whiter than ever, while Tom Fisher said to himself:
“I really believe the old fellow knows right where to look to find every boy who was outside the building last night after taps. If I had had the faintest suspicion that Don intended to confess, I should have been ahead of him. He’ll get off easy by giving the names of the rest of us, and Duncan and I and a few others, who kicked up such a row last term, will be sent down.”
“You had charge of the third floor between the hours of eight and twelve last evening,” 179continued the superintendent, addressing himself to Don.
“Yes, sir,” was the reply.
“And while you were on duty several boys, who you knew intended to run the guard, left their dormitories, and you permitted them to pass out of the building?”
“Yes, sir,” said Don, again.
“Give me the names of those boys,” said the superintendent, nodding to the adjutant, who pulled out his note-book and pencil; but he did not use them—at least just then. While he held his pencil in the air and looked at Don, and the culprits were trembling with apprehension, and the others were listening with all their ears to catch the first name that fell from Don’s lips, the answer came clear and distinct:
“I hope you will not insist upon that, sir, for it is something I do not like to do.”
The superintendent stared, the teachers looked astonished, and another flutter of excitement ran along the line. This time it did not even miss the first-class boys, some of whom so far forgot themselves as to turn their heads and look at 180the boy who dared stand in the presence of the head of the school and say that he did not like to obey an order that had been given him point-blank. Such a thing had never happened before in the Bridgeport academy. Don’s companions in guilt began to breathe easier.
“If he will only stick to that I am all right; but he
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