"Some little place near the mouth of the Kennebec River," Prescott answered.
"Then isn't he a long way from home?" asked Hal.
"Halstead often is a long way from home," nodded Lieutenant Holmes. "Not so very long ago Halstead commanded a yacht on the Pacific Ocean, and had some of his most rousing adventures at that time."
"It's young fellows like Halstead, Joe Dawson and that queer genius, Hank Butts, who are needed to build up the American merchant marine once more," Prescott continued.
Having been up all night most of the young officers were now glad to turn in for a few hours of sleep. Lieutenant Hal passed a wretched day of it.
Toward four o'clock in the afternoon an orderly brought in the afternoon mail from the village. With the mail came two telegrams, one for Captain Foster and the other for Lieutenant Prescott. That latter young officer tore open his telegram eagerly, and read:
"Received, en route, your telegram stating you were ordered to Holmesville. Belle and I at once changed our route and are here at Holmesville, Eagle Hotel. Mother with us. Find you not here, and no troops here, and that we will not be allowed to join your command. What shall we do?
"Laura Bentley."
"What a queer girl's freak that was," murmured Prescott, and called Ensign Dave Darrin over to read the despatch.
"I'm afraid I don't like that," muttered Dave, his brow darkening. "We'd better wire the girls begging them to get away from the border as soon as they know how."