“O, get out!” exclaimed the corporal. “You didn’t see any feathers. You only dreamed it.”
“Do you suppose that I have been asleep?” cried Bert.
“It looks like it, for I declare I don’t see how any boy who is wide awake—Well, well, have it your own way,” said the corporal, who noticed that Bert’s cheek began to flush and his eye to sparkle as if he were growing indignant. “Just keep your eye on him and see that he doesn’t get into camp; that’s all you’ve got to do. But I say, Gordon, we are in for a good time to-night, are we not? Did you ever see so many visitors before?”
“I never did,” answered Bert. “This is my first camp, you know.”
“Well, fellows who have been here during four camps say that they never saw such a crowd at this stage of the proceedings,” continued the corporal. “Our friends generally put in an appearance a day or two before we break camp, and stay with us during the examination and over commencement; and what it was that brought them here so early in the day this year, I can’t imagine. But we are glad to see them all the same, and we’re going to have a smashing hop to-night. Some of the fellows have sent to town for the music.”
“You didn’t hear anybody inquiring for me, did you?” asked Bert, with some hesitation.
“I did not. In fact, I didn’t hear anybody asked for. I took time to kiss my mother and say ‘hallo’ to my big brother, and that’s all the visiting I can do until I go off duty. Good-by, but don’t call me out to look at any more feathers unless you can show them to me.”
“I saw them, I know I did,” said Bert, to himself, as the sentry walked away. “No one can make me believe that I could be so badly fooled in broad daylight. I wish I could have another look at them.”
Once more Bert turned his eyes toward the opposite bank of the stream; but the head with the crown of feathers did not again show itself, and he finally resumed his walk, feeling very lonely and homesick. Almost every boy in camp had company—in fact he could not see a single student wandering about alone—but no one had been heard to ask for him. He would have been glad to see anybody from Rochdale. Even the sight of Dan Evans’s tan-colored face would have been most welcome.
Bert stood his time out without seeing anything more of the feathers, and finally the relief came around. Having stacked their muskets in the guard-tent the sentries, some of whom had received notice of the arrival of their friends, scattered in all directions, leaving Bert alone. He strolled slowly along the street, lifting his cap whenever he met a fellow-student accompanied by his mother or sister, and finally reached the door of his own tent, which was crowded with the relatives and friends of his mess-mates. He was about to pass on with a word of apology, when a lady, whom he did not see until that moment, arose from the camp-chair in which she was sitting, and a second later Bert was clasped in the arms of his mother. General Gordon was there, too. He had been visiting with his old friend and preceptor, the superintendent, and was now looking over the fortifications in company with Mr. Egan, Mr. Hopkins, and Mr. Curtis, all of whom were veteran soldiers. He came into the tent in a few minutes, and when he had greeted Bert warmly, he asked for Don.