“Now, boys,” said Tom Fisher, “one at a time, but remember lively is the word. Gordon, you had better stay back and watch the rest of us, and then you will know how to proceed when your turn comes. We are not afraid of Henderson, but still we don’t want to show ourselves to him too plainly, for fear that the corporal of the guard or the officer of the day may be loafing around somewhere within sight of his post.”
They had now reached the academy grounds, and half the time at their disposal had already been consumed. They had barely fifteen minutes left, and haste was necessary. As matters stood, all the floors and one of the outside beats were in charge of boys who had been duly posted, and would permit them to pass unchallenged; but these accommodating guards would very soon be relieved, and their places taken by those who would report them the first thing in the morning.
As Fisher spoke he pushed aside the loosened fence-pickets, squeezed himself through the opening, and, with his body half bent, made his way toward Dick Henderson’s post. Presently he threw himself upon his hands and knees, and in a few seconds more was out of sight. Another and another followed him, and finally Duncan took his turn, and Don was left alone.
“Don’t be in too great a hurry,” were the latter’s parting words. “Let me get out of your sight before you start.”
During the last hour and a half Dick Henderson had been walking his beat in no very pleasant frame of mind. Tom had told him that he and his friends would return some time between the hours of two and four; but at three o’clock Dick had seen no signs of them.
“I wonder if they went in at some other part of the grounds,” Dick often said to himself. “I can’t believe they did, for I think I am the only fellow in our crowd who holds an outside post to-night. Besides, Duncan said they would come in here, so that I could halt Don Gordon. They’ll have to hurry up if they want me to do anything for them.”
As the minutes wore away Dick’s anxiety increased, and finally he became really alarmed. The bell had struck three long ago, and Dick was beginning to look for his relief, when, to his great joy, he saw somebody creeping toward him through the deep snow. As soon as he caught sight of him he moved back to his box and stood behind it, leaning on his musket. The boy, Tom Fisher, crossed Dick’s beat in plain view of him, uttering a peculiar cough as he passed, and disappeared behind the high piles of snow that had been thrown out of the path leading to the academy.
“That’s one,” thought Dick, “and Duncan said there were to be nine in the party. I am to allow eight of them to go in peace, and the ninth man, who will be Don Gordon, is to be halted and turned over to the tender mercies of the officer of the day. That is two,” he added, as another boy crept by, giving the “signal” as he went.
When the eighth man was safely out of sight Dick shouldered his musket and stepping out from behind his box, prepared for action. As he came into view, a boy who was moving rapidly toward him, in a crouching attitude, suddenly stopped, and then as suddenly plunged into the nearest snowdrift, burying himself in it head and ears.
“That fellow is like an ostrich,” soliloquized Dick, as he walked quickly along his beat. “He thinks that because his head is out of sight, his whole body is concealed.”