CHAPTER XXII. FRANK BROACHES A NEW PLAN
For some time Frank had been revolving in his mind the feasibility of a scheme which he hoped to be able to carry into execution. It was no less than this—to form a military company among the boys, which should be organized and drilled in all respects like those composed of older persons. He did not feel like taking any steps in the matter till he had consulted with some one in whose judgment he had confidence.
One evening he mentioned his plan to Mr. Morton.
“It is a capital idea, Frank,” said the young man, with warm approval. “If I can be of service to you in this matter, it will afford me much pleasure.”
“There is one difficulty,” suggested Frank. “None of us boys know anything about military tactics, and we shall need instruction to begin with; but where we are to find a teacher I am sure I can’t tell.”
“I don’t think you will have to look far,” said Mr. Morton, with a smile.
“Are you acquainted with the manual?” asked Frank eagerly.
“I believe so. You see you have not yet got to the end of my accomplishments. I shall be happy to act as your drill-master until some one among your number is competent to take my place. I can previously give you some private lessons, if you desire it.”
“There’s nothing I should like better, Mr. Morton,” said Frank joyfully.
“Have you got a musket in the house, then? We shall get along better with one.”
“There’s one in the attic.”
“Very well; if you will get it, we can make a beginning now.”
Frank went in search of the musket; but in his haste tumbled down the attic stairs, losing his grasp of the musket, which fell down with a clatter.
Mrs. Frost, opening the door of her bedroom in alarm, saw Frank on his back with the musket lying across his chest.
“What’s the matter?” she asked, not a little startled.
Frank got up rubbing himself and looking rather foolish.
“Nothing, mother; only I was in a little too much of a hurry.”
“What are you going to do with that musket, Frank?”
“Mr. Morton is going to teach me the manual, that is all, mother.”
“I suppose the first position is horizontal,” said his mother, with a smile.
“I don’t like that position very well,” returned Frank, with a laugh. “I prefer the perpendicular.”
Under his friend’s instructions, Frank progressed rapidly. At the end of the third lesson, Mr. Morton said, “You are nearly as competent to give instructions now as I am. There are some things, however, that cannot be learned alone. You had better take measures to form your company.”
Frank called upon Mr. Rathburn, the principal of the academy, and after communicating his plan, which met with the teacher’s full approval, arranged to have notice given of a meeting of the boys immediately after the afternoon session.
On Thursday afternoon when the last class had recited, previous to ringing the bell, which was a signal that school was over, Mr. Rathburn gave this brief notice:
“I am requested to ask the boys present to remain in their seats, and in which I think they will all feel interested.”
Looks of curiosity were interchanged among the boys, and every one thought, “What’s coming now?”
At this moment a modest knock was heard, and Mr. Rathburn, going to the door, admitted Frank. He quietly slipped into the nearest seat.
“Your late schoolfellow, Frank Frost,” proceeded Mr. Rathburn, “has the merit of originating the plan to which I have referred, and he is no doubt prepared to unfold it to you.”
Mr. Rathburn put on his hat and coat, and left the schoolroom. After his departure Frank rose and spoke modestly, thus:
“Boys, I have been thinking for some time past that we were not doing all that we ought in this crisis, which puts in such danger the welfare of our country. If anything, we boys ought to feel more deeply interested than our elders, for while they will soon pass off the stage we have not yet reached even the threshold of manhood. You will ask me what we can do. Let me remind you that when the war broke out the great want was, not of volunteers, but of men trained to military exercises. Our regiments were at first composed wholly of raw recruits. In Europe, military instruction is given as a matter of course; and in Germany, and perhaps other countries, young men are obliged to serve for a time in the army.
“I think we ought to profit by the lessons of experience. However the present war may turn out, we cannot be certain that other wars will not at some time break out. By that time we shall have grown to manhood, and the duty of defending our country in arms will devolve upon us. Should that time come, let it not find us unprepared. I propose that we organize a military company among the boys, and meet for drill at such times as we may hereafter agree upon. I hope that any who feel interested in the matter will express their opinions freely.”
Frank sat down, and a number of the boys testified their approbation by stamping with their feet.
John Haynes rose, with a sneer upon his face.
“I would humbly inquire, Mr. Chairman, for you appear to have assumed that position, whether you intend to favor us with your valuable services as drillmaster.”
Frank rose, with a flushed face.
“I am glad to be reminded of one thing, which I had forgotten,” he said. “As this is a meeting for the transaction of business, it is proper that it should be regularly organized. Will some one nominate a chairman?”
“Frank Frost!” exclaimed half a dozen voices.
“I thank you for the nomination,” said Frank, “but as I have something further to communicate to the meeting, it will be better to select some one else.”
“I nominate Charles Reynolds,” said one voice.
“Second the motion,” said another.
“Those who are in favor of Charles Reynolds, as chairman of this meeting, will please signify it in the usual manner,” said Frank.
Charles Reynolds, being declared duly elected, advanced to the teacher’s chair.
“Mr. Chairman,” said Frank, “I will now answer the question just put to me. I do not propose to offer my services as drill-master, but I am authorized to say that a gentleman whom you have all seen, Mr. Henry Morton, is willing to give instruction till you are sufficiently advanced to get along without it.”
John Haynes, who felt disappointed at not having been called upon to preside over the meeting, determined to make as much trouble as possible.
“How are we to know that this Morton is qualified to give instruction?” he asked, looking round at the boys.
“The gentleman is out of order. He will please address his remarks to the Chair, and not to the audience,” said the presiding officer.
“I beg pardon, Mr. Chairman,” said John mockingly. “I forgot how tenacious some people are of their brief authority.”
“Order! order!” called half a dozen voices.
“The gentleman will come to order,” said the chairman firmly, “and make way for others unless he can treat the Chair with proper respect.”
“Mr. Chairman,” said Frank, rising, “I will mention, for the general information, that Mr. Morton has acted as an officer of militia, and that I consider his offer a kind one, since it will take up considerable of his time and put him to some trouble.”
“I move that Mr. Morton’s offer be accepted, with thanks,” said Henry Tufts.
The motion was seconded by Tom Wheeler, and carried unanimously, with the exception of one vote. John Haynes sat sullenly in his seat and took no part in it.
“Who shall belong to the company?” asked the chairman. “Shall a fixed age be required?”
“I move that the age be fixed at eleven,” said Robert Ingalls.
This was objected to as too young, and twelve was finally fixed upon.
John Haynes moved not to admit any one who did not attend the academy. Of course, this would exclude Frank, and his motion was not seconded.
It was finally decided to admit any above the age of twelve who desired it, but the boys reserved to themselves the right of rejecting any who should conduct himself in a manner to bring disgrace upon them.
“Mr. Chairman,” said Frank, “in order to get under way as soon as possible, I have written down an agreement to which those who wish to join our proposed company can sign their names. If anybody can think of anything better, I shall be glad to have it adopted instead of this.”
He handed a sheet of paper to the chairman, who read from it the following form of agreement: “We, the subscribers, agree to form a boys’ volunteer company, and to conform to the regulations which may hereafter be made for its government.”
“If there is no objection, we will adopt this form, and subscribe our names,” said the chairman.
The motion for adoption being carried, the boys came up one by one and signed their names.
John Haynes would have held back, but for the thought that he might be elected an officer of the new company.
“Is there any further business to come before the meeting?” inquired the presiding officer.
“The boys at Webbington had a company three or four years ago,” said Joe Barry, “and they used wooden guns.”
“Wooden guns!” exclaimed Wilbur Summerfield disdainfully. “You won’t catch me training round town with a wooden gun.”
“I would remind the last three gentlemen that their remarks should be addressed to the Chair,” said the presiding officer. “Of course, I don’t care anything about it, but I think you would all prefer to have the meeting conducted properly.”
“That’s so!” exclaimed several boys.
“Then,” said the chairman, “I shall call to order any boy who addresses the meeting except through me.”
“Mr. Chairman,” said Frank, rising, “as to the wooden guns, I quite agree with the last speaker. It would seem too much like boy’s play, and we are too much in earnest for that. I have thought of an arrangement which can be made if the Selectmen will give their consent. Ten or fifteen years ago, longer than most of us can remember, as my father has told me, there was a militia company in Rossville, whose arms were supplied and owned by the town. When the company was disbanded the muskets went back to the town, and I believe they are now kept in the basement of the Town Hall. I presume that we can have the use of them on application. I move that a committee be appointed to lay the matter before the Selectmen and ask their permission.”
His motion was agreed to.
“I will appoint John Haynes to serve on that committee,” said the chairman, after a pause.
This was a politic appointment, as Squire Haynes was one of the Selectmen, and would be gratified at the compliment paid to his son.
“I accept the duty,” said John, rising, and speaking in a tone of importance.
“Is there any other business to come before the meeting?”
“I should like to inquire, Mr. Chairman, when our first meeting will take place, and where is it to be?” asked Herbert Metcalf.
“I will appoint as a committee to make the necessary arrangements, Frank Frost, Tom Wheeler, and Robert Ingalls. Due notice will be given in school of the time and place selected, and a written notice will also be posted up in the postoffice.”
“Would it not be well, Mr. Chairman,” suggested Frank, “to circulate an invitation to other boys not present to-day to join the company? The larger our number, the more interest will be felt. I can think of quite a number who would be valuable members. There are Dick Bumstead, and William Chamberlain, and many others.”
At the sound of Dick Bumstead’s name John Haynes looked askance at Frank, but for the moment the thought of Dick’s agency in the affair of the pig-pen had escaped his recollection, and he looked quite unconscious of any indirect reference to it.
“Will you make a motion to that effect?”
“Yes, if necessary.”
“Is the motion seconded?”
“Second it,” said Moses Rogers.
“I will appoint Wilbur Summerfield and Moses Rogers on that committee,” said the chairman.
“I move that the meeting adjourn ipse dixit,” said Sam Davis, bringing out the latter phrase with considerable emphasis.
A roar of laughter followed which shook the schoolhouse to the very rafters, and then a deafening clamor of applause. The proposer sat down in confusion.
“What are you laughing at?” he burst forth indignantly.
“Mr. Chairman,” said Henry Tufts, struggling with his laughter, “I second the gentleman’s motion, all except the Latin.”
The motion was carried in spite of the manner in which it was worded, and the boys formed little groups, and began eagerly to discuss the plan which had been proposed. Frank had reason to feel satisfied with the success of his suggestion. Several of the boys came up to him and expressed their pleasure that he had brought the matter before them.
“I say, Frank,” said Robert Ingalls, “We’ll have a bully company.”
“Yes,” said Wilbur Summerfield, “if John Haynes belongs to it. He’s a bully, and no mistake.”
“What’s that you are saying about me?” blustered John Haynes, who caught a little of what was said.
“Listeners never hear anything good of themselves,” answered Wilbur.
“Say that again, Wilbur Summerfield,” said John menacingly.
“Certainly, if it will do you any good. I said that you were a bully, John Haynes; and there’s not a boy here that doesn’t know it to be true.”
“Take care!” said John, turning white with passion.
“While I’m about it, there’s something more I want to say,” continued Wilbur undauntedly. “Yesterday you knocked my little brother off his sled and sent him home crying. If you do it again, you will have somebody else to deal with.”
John trembled with anger. It would have done him good to “pitch into” Wilbur, but the latter looked him in the face so calmly and resolutely that discretion seemed to him the better part of valor, and with an oath he turned away.
“I don’t know what’s got into John Haynes,” said Wilbur. “I never liked him, but now he seems to be getting worse and worse every day.”
CHAPTER XXIII. POMP TAKES MRS. PAYSON PRISONER
Old Mrs. Payson, who arrived in Rossville at the same time with Henry Morton, had been invited by her daughter, “Cynthy Ann,” to pass the winter, and had acquiesced without making any very strenuous objections. Her “bunnit,” which she had looked upon as “sp’ilt,” had been so far restored by a skilful milliner that she was able to wear it for best. As this restoration cost but one dollar and a half out of the five which had been given her by young Morton, she felt very well satisfied with the way matters had turned out. This did not, however, by any means diminish her rancor against Pomp, who had been the mischievous cause of the calamity.
“Ef I could only get hold on him,” Mrs. Payson had remarked on several occasions to Cynthy Ann, “I’d shake the mischief out of him, ef I died for’t the very next minute.”
Mrs. Payson was destined to meet with a second calamity, which increased, if possible, her antipathy to the “young imp.”
Being of a social disposition, she was quite in the habit of dropping in to tea at different homes in the village. Having formerly lived in Rossville, she was acquainted with nearly all the townspeople, and went the rounds about once in two weeks.
One afternoon she put her knitting into a black work-bag, which she was accustomed to carry on her arm, and, arraying herself in a green cloak and hood, which had served her for fifteen years, she set out to call on Mrs. Thompson.
Now, the nearest route to the place of her destination lay across a five-acre lot. The snow lay deep upon the ground, but the outer surface had become so hard as, without difficulty, to bear a person of ordinary weight.
When Mrs. Payson came up to the bars, she said to herself, “‘Tain’t so fur to go across lots. I guess I’ll ventur’.”
She let down a bar and, passing through, went on her way complacently. But, alas, for the old lady’s peace of mind! She was destined to come to very deep grief.
That very afternoon Pomp had come over to play with Sam Thompson, and the two, after devising various projects of amusement, had determined to make a cave in the snow. They selected a part of the field where it had drifted to the depth of some four or five feet. Beginning at a little distance, they burrowed their way into the heart of the snow, and excavated a place about four feet square by four deep, leaving the upper crust intact, of course, without its ordinary strength.
The two boys had completed their task, and were siting down in their subterranean abode, when the roof suddenly gave way, and a visitor entered in the most unceremonious manner.
The old lady had kept on her way unsuspiciously, using as a cane a faded blue umbrella, which she carried invariably, whatever the weather.
When Mrs. Payson felt herself sinking, she uttered a loud shriek and waved her arms aloft, brandishing her umbrella in a frantic way. She was plunged up to her armpits in the snow, and was, of course, placed in a very unfavorable position for extricating herself.
The two boys were at first nearly smothered by the descent of snow, but when the first surprise was over they recognized their prisoner. I am ashamed to say that their feeling was that of unbounded delight, and they burst into a roar of laughter. The sound, indistinctly heard, terrified the old lady beyond measure, and she struggled frantically to escape, nearly poking out Pomp’s eye with the point of her umbrella.
Pomp, always prompt to repel aggression, in return, pinched her foot.
“Massy sakes! Where am I?” ejaculated the affrighted old lady. “There’s some wild crittur down there. Oh, Cynthy Ann, ef you could see your marm at this moment!”
She made another vigorous flounder, and managed to kick Sam in the face. Partly as a measure of self-defense, he seized her ankle firmly.
“He’s got hold of me!” shrieked the old lady “Help! help! I shall be murdered.”
Her struggles became so energetic that the boys soon found it expedient to evacuate the premises. They crawled out by the passage they had made, and appeared on the surface of the snow.
The old lady presented a ludicrous appearance. Her hood had slipped off, her spectacles were resting on the end of her nose, and she had lost her work-bag. But she clung with the most desperate energy to the umbrella, on which apparently depended her sole hope of deliverance.
“Hi yah!” laughed Pomp, as he threw himself back on the snow and began to roll about in an ecstasy of delight.
Instantly Mrs. Payson’s apprehensions changed to furious anger.
“So it’s you, you little varmint, that’s done this. Jest le’ me get out, and I’ll whip you so you can’t stan’. See ef I don’t.”
“You can’t get out, missus; yah, yah!” laughed Pomp. “You’s tied, you is, missus.”
“Come an’ help me out, this minute!” exclaimed the old lady, stamping her foot.
“Lor’, missus, you’ll whip me. You said you would.”
“So I will, I vum,” retorted the irate old lady, rather undiplomatically. “As true as I live, I’ll whip you till you can’t stan’.”
As she spoke, she brandished her umbrella in a menacing manner.
“Den, missus, I guess you’d better stay where you is.”
“Oh, you imp. See ef I don’t have you put in jail. Here, you, Sam Thompson, come and help me out. Ef you don’t, I’ll tell your mother, an’ she’ll give you the wust lickin’ you ever had. I’m surprised at you.”
“You won’t tell on me, will you?” said Sam, irresolutely.
“I’ll see about it,” said the old lady, in a politic tone.
She felt her powerlessness, and that concession must precede victory.
“Then, give me the umbrella,” said Sam, who evidently distrusted her.
“You’ll run off with it,” said Mrs. Payson suspiciously.
“No, I won’t.”
“Well, there ‘tis.”
“Come here, Pomp, and help me,” said Sam.
Pomp held aloof.
“She’ll whip me,” he said, shaking his head. “She’s an old debble.”
“Oh, you—you sarpint!” ejaculated the old lady, almost speechless with indignation.
“You can run away as soon as she gets out,” suggested Sam.
Pomp advanced slowly and warily, rolling his eyes in indecision.
“Jest catch hold of my hands, both on ye,” said Mrs. Payson, “an’ I’ll give a jump.”
These directions were followed, and the old lady rose to the surface, when, in an evil hour, intent upon avenging herself upon Pomp, she made a clutch for his collar. In doing so she lost her footing and fell back into the pit from which she had just emerged. Her spectacles dropped off and, falling beneath her, were broken.
She rose, half-provoked and half-ashamed of her futile attempt. It was natural that neither of these circumstances should effect an improvement in her temper.
“You did it a purpose,” she said, shaking her fist at Pomp, who stood about a rod off, grinning at her discomfiture. “There, I’ve gone an’ broke my specs, that I bought two years ago, come fall, of a pedler. I’ll make you pay for ‘em.”
“Lor’, missus, I ain’t got no money,” said Pomp. “Nebber had none.”
Unfortunately for the old lady, it was altogether probable that Pomp spoke the truth this time.
“Three and sixpence gone!” groaned Mrs. Payson. “Fust my bunnit, an’ then my specs. I’m the most unfort’nit’ crittur. Why don’t you help me, Sam Thompson, instead of standin’ and gawkin’ at me?” she suddenly exclaimed, glaring at Sam.
“I didn’t know as you was ready,” said Sam. “You might have been out before this, ef you hadn’t let go. Here, Pomp, lend a hand.” Pomp shook his head decisively.
“Don’t catch dis chile again,” he said. “I’m goin’ home. Ole woman wants to lick me.”
Sam endeavored to persuade Pomp, but he was deaf to persuasion. He squatted down on the snow, and watched the efforts his companion made to extricate the old lady. When she was nearly out he started on a run, and was at a safe distance before Mrs. Payson was in a situation to pursue him.
The old lady shook herself to make sure that no bones were broken. Next, she sent Sam down into the hole to pick up her bag, and then, finding, on a careful examination, that she had recovered everything, even to the blue umbrella, fetched the astonished Sam a rousing box on the ear.
“What did you do that for?” he demanded in an aggrieved tone.
“‘Taint half as much as you deserve,” said the old lady. “I’m goin’ to your house right off, to tell your mother what you’ve been a-doin’. Ef you was my child, I’d beat you black and blue.”
“I wish I’d left you down there,” muttered Sam.
“What’s that?” demanded Mrs. Payson sharply. “Don’t you go to bein’ sassy. It’ll be the wuss for ye. You’ll come to the gallows some time, ef you don’t mind your p’s and q’s. I might ‘ave stayed there till I died, an’ then you’d have been hung.”
“What are, you jawing about?” retorted Sam. “How could I know you was comin’?”
“You know’d it well enough,” returned the old lady. “You’ll bring your mother’s gray hairs with sorrer to the grave.”
“She ain’t got any gray hairs,” said Sam doggedly.
“Well, she will have some, ef she lives long enough. I once know’d a boy just like you, an’ he was put in jail for stealin’.”
“I ain’t a-goin to stay and be jawed that way,” said Sam. “You won’t catch me pulling you out of a hole again. I wouldn’t have you for a grandmother for all the world. Tom Baldwin told me, only yesterday, that you was always a-hectorin’ him.”
Tom Baldwin was the son of Cynthy Ann, and consequently old Mrs. Payson’s grandson.
“Did Tom Baldwin tell you that?” demanded the old lady abruptly, looking deeply incensed.
“Yes, he did.”
“Well, he’s the ungratefullest cub that I ever sot eyes on,” exclaimed his indignant grandmother. “Arter all I’ve done for him. I’m knittin’ a pair of socks for him this blessed minute. But he sha’n’t have ‘em. I’ll give ‘em to the soldiers, I vum. Did he say anything else?”
“Yes, he said he should be glad when you were gone.”
“I’ll go right home and tell Cynthy Ann,” exclaimed Mrs. Payson, “an’ if she don’t w’ip him I will. I never see such a bad set of boys as is growin’ up. There ain’t one on ‘em that isn’t as full of mischief as a nut is of meat. I’ll come up with them, as true as I live.”
Full of her indignation, Mrs. Payson gave up her proposed call on Mrs. Thompson, and, turning about, hurried home to lay her complaint before Cynthy Ann.
“I’m glad she’s gone,” said Sam, looking after her, as with resolute steps she trudged along, punching the snow vigorously with the point of her blue cotton umbrella. “I pity Tom Baldwin; if I had such a grandmother as that, I’d run away to sea. That’s so!”