These orders were promptly obeyed—all except the last. When the young soldiers came to feel for their bayonets, they discovered that their scabbards were empty. Before anybody could ask the meaning of this, an orderly hurried up with instructions for the captain to move his company by the left flank, and take up a position in reserve, so as to protect the big tent and its occupants.
All this while those hideous yells had been arising on all sides, and now they were accompanied by the discharge of fire-arms. These discharges rapidly increased in number and frequency, until it seemed as if the camp were surrounded by a wall of flame; and still nobody knew what was the matter. As Bert’s company wheeled into position the first company went by, moving at double time, and disappeared in the darkness; and a few moments later, rapid platoon firing sounded in the direction of the bridge. Then the students began to understand the matter.
“It’s a sham fight,” said the boy who stood at Bert’s elbow.
“But who are our assailants?” asked the latter, who was greatly relieved.
That was a question the boy could not answer, but Bert was able to answer it for himself a few minutes later. The fight at the bridge increased in fury, and the first company, finding its position there untenable, was ordered to fall back so that the artillery could have a chance to come into play. Encouraged by this retrograde movement the enemy rushed across the bridge in overwhelming numbers, pressing the young soldiers so closely that the retreat, which was begun in good order, very speedily became a rout. The old German professor, highly excited, ran up, sword in hand, and made frantic appeals to them to stand their ground and defend the gate; but the ranks were hopelessly broken. They came pell-mell through the tents and took refuge behind Bert’s company, the members of which were thunderstruck. What kind of an enemy was it anyhow, they asked themselves, that could throw the well-drilled boys of the first class into such confusion as this?
“Young shentlemens,” exclaimed the professor, flourishing his sword angrily over his head, “I been ashamed of you. Such fighting is von grand disgrace to the Pridgebort Military Academy. Captain Bumroy,” he added, turning to the commander of Bert’s company, “go ahead and sweep the enemy from the face of the earth. Make good piziness now.”
Captain Pomeroy and his men went about this work as if they were in earnest. Holding their muskets at “arms port” they advanced in good order, and when they reached the end of their company street, they found out who the enemy were. They were Indians—veritable Indians, hideously painted and dressed in all sorts of odd costumes. They had gained a footing inside the works, and were engaged in pulling down the tents preparatory to carrying them off. Excited as Bert was, he could nevertheless calmly recall some of the incidents of the afternoon.
“Now I know the meaning of that order regarding prowlers,” said he to himself. “I did see somebody in the bushes with feathers on his head, and it was one of these Indians who was reconnoitering our position.”
Being interrupted in the work of stealing the tents, the Indians advanced in a body, brandishing their weapons and yelling with all the power of their lungs. They hoped, no doubt, to frighten Captain Pomeroy and his men, create a panic among them, and, having scattered them, to take some of them prisoners; but in this they failed. The boys were so very much in earnest, and so fully determined to save their tents, that they came very near changing the sham fight into a real fight. Now Captain Pomeroy saw why it was that the teachers had taken the precaution to remove the bayonets. If his men had been provided with those dangerous weapons, he would have charged the Indians without an instant’s hesitation, and there was no telling what the young soldiers might have done in their excitement.
“Steady!” commanded the boy captain. “Butts to the front! Strike!”