“I mean that we are entitled to a dollar a day for the work our company did at Hamilton,” replied Egan. “As we were under orders five days we have five dollars apiece coming to us from the State.”
“Do the wounded come in for that much?” inquired Hopkins.
“They belong to the company, do they not?” demanded Egan. “They are not to blame for getting hurt, are they? They will get just as much as the others.”
We may here remark that the Legislature gave them more. Hopkins received a hundred dollars to pay him for his sprained ankle; the boy who was hit in the eye with a buck-shot, and who stood a fair chance of going blind from the effects of it, got eleven hundred; Stanley received six hundred, and so did each of the boys who were shot at Don Gordon’s side when the company was ordered out of the car.
“I’ll never spend those five dollars,” said Don.
“Neither will I,” chimed in Hopkins. “If I get the money all in one bill, I’ll have it framed and hang it up in my room beside a fox-brush which I won at the risk of my neck.”
“I wonder how mine would look hung around the neck of that white swan that led me such a race two winters ago,” said Egan. “I think they will go well together, and every time I look at them, they will remind me of the most exciting incident of my life. Gordon, you’ll have to make yours into a rug and spread it on the floor beside the skin of that bear that came so near making an end of Lester Brigham.”
The boys had only three days more to devote to study during the school term, and much lost time to make up. The work was hard, they found it almost impossible to keep their minds upon their books, and everybody, teachers as well as students, was glad when the first day of August arrived, and the battalion took up its line of march for its old camping ground. The students were hardly allowed time to become settled in their new quarters before their friends began to flock into the camp. A few fathers and guardians came there with the intention of taking their sons and wards from the school at once—they did not want them to remain if they were expected to risk their lives in fighting rioters. Some of the timid ones were glad to go; but the others, who were full of military ardor, begged hard to be permitted to complete the course, and pleaded their cause with so much ability that their fathers relented, and even took the trouble to hunt up Professor Kellogg and congratulate him on having “broken the back-bone” of the Hamilton riot.
Lester Brigham’s father and mother were among the visitors, and so were General Gordon and his wife. The former were very indignant when they left Rochdale. Mr. Brigham repeatedly declaring that it was a sin and an outrage for the superintendent to send boys like those under his care into battle, and after he had told him, in plain language, what he thought of such a proceeding, he was going to take Lester out of that school without any delay or ceremony. But when he reached the camp, he did not feel that way. General Gordon reasoned with him, and when he shook hands with Lester, he said he was sorry the boy hadn’t been in the fight, so that he could praise him for his gallant conduct. Mr. Brigham didn’t know that Lester had hidden his head under the bed-clothes when the bugle sounded.
“I was afraid you would want me to leave the school,” faltered Lester, as soon as he had somewhat recovered from his surprise.