"Good. Some of the fellows have been figuring up the points already known to be credited to the different companies; more than half of the points are already made, you know, and as it happens both the first and second companies are so far pretty close together; we're within ten points of each other to-day and no other company is within twenty points of either of us. Either you or I will win the flag, that is certain. And, Bob, if you win it I'm going to lead the cheering for the winning company."
"I appreciate that sentiment, Sam, and if you win the flag I will lead the cheering."
"Say, Bob, have you read about that kidnapping case in Baltimore? Some rascals have stolen a little boy named Georgie Thompson."
"No, I hadn't. Jingo! I hope they catch the scoundrels and get the boy back."
The two young men shook hands in the heartiest fashion and separated. There was intense personal rivalry between them, far more than their words expressed; it was a commendable rivalry; each was determined to make every effort to win the great prize, but each had a high personal regard for the other.
This meeting was on one of the Saturdays in May. Robert was now highly elated with the efficiency of his six-pounder crew. It drilled every day. Dummy six-pounder shells were thrown into the gun with tremendous speed and remarkable precision. There were now no slips, no jams. While this was proceeding Robert would be at the shoulder-piece, his eye at the peep-sight, aiming at some boat in the river. This was the nearest approach possible to actually firing the gun. And every man of the gun's crew was enthusiastically confident.
"Stone," said Robert, after dinner this Saturday, "I've permission to use a steamer this afternoon and I've got up a party to go up the Severn River."
"I'll bet Helen is in the party," replied Stonewell, smiling at his roommate.
"Of course she is; Mrs. Blunt is coming, and Glassfell and Farnum. Now we want you too."
"I wish I could go, but I can't," replied Stonewell, decidedly. "I've an engagement I can't break."