The enemy laughed. Outposts came up dragging other prisoners. McCabe had almost gotten away but was captured on a fierce tackle by Bartz, who played left end on the varsity.
"What shall we do with 'em, sir?" asked Bartz, turning and saluting
Benz, respectfully.
"How many have you captured?"
"Six, sir, not counting Rube and McCabe."
"Good! Make them run the gauntlet and release them!"
"And what shall we do with the other two?"
"Hold them until further orders!"
"Very well, sir."
The other six were forced to run the gauntlet, very unwillingly indeed, for it consisted in crawling upon hands and knees between some thirty pairs of legs, and to receive, upon passing between each pair, a tremendous whack from the palm of the hand of the owner of said pair of legs.
When the unfortunate members of the second team completed the running of the gauntlet not one of them complained of the cold. The heat created was perfectly sufficient to keep them warm all the way home. In fact it was far more penetrating than the soft warmth thrown off by the camp fire.