This was almost unheard of for a plebe, and Tom knew it. He also knew that Captain Hawkesbury had some underhand power, but whether he could exert it over army officers, however much he might with politicians, was a matter of conjecture.
“Are you going to tell?” he demanded, banging his fist down on his table so that the papers danced.
“No, sir,” answered Tom, quietly.
“Then go on guard! I’ll see you later!” was the cold retort.
Doing guard duty on a hot day, in a stiff uniform, carrying a heavy gun in the broiling sun, is not an easy task. Tom found it very trying, but not for an instant did he falter in his determination to refuse to tell what he knew.
His companions waxed indignant, and there was a hurried meeting of the “plebes.” The guilty ones offered to confess to save Tom from further punishment, but he heard of it, and refused to accept the sacrifice.
“I can stick it out!” he said.
“But what if there is more to come?” asked Sam. “He may lock you up as a prisoner, and cut off every privilege.”
“Let him,” said Tom.
But Captain Hawkesbury did not go that far. Whether he dared not, or whether those higher in authority stepped in and released Tom, never became known.