“Well, we’ll not volunteer any more advice, no matter what happens to him,” said Don. “We’ll let him go as he pleases and see how he will come out.”
The day set for their departure came at last, and Don and Bert, accompanied by Mr. Brigham and Lester, set out for Bridgeport, which they reached without any mishap. They rode in the same hack from the depot to the academy, and when they alighted at the door, they were surrounded by a crowd of boys who had already reported for duty, and who made it a point to rush out of the building to extend a noisy welcome to every newcomer. School was not yet in session, and the first-class boys were not above speaking to a plebe.
Among those who were first to greet Don and Bert as they stepped out of the hack, were Egan, Hopkins and Curtis. As these young gentlemen had already completed the regular academic course, perhaps the reader would like to know what it was that brought them back. They came to take what was called the “finishing course,” and to put themselves under technical instruction. After that (it took two years to go through it) Hopkins was to enter a lawyer’s office in Baltimore; Egan intended to become assistant engineer to a relative who was building railroads somewhere in South America; while Curtis was looking towards West Point.
The boys who composed these advanced classes were privileged characters. They dressed in citizens’ clothes, performed no military duty, boarded in the village, and came and went whenever they pleased. When the students went into camp, they were at liberty to go with them, or they could stay at the academy and study. If they chose the camp, they could ask to be appointed aids or orderlies at headquarters, or they could put on a uniform, shoulder a musket, and fall into the ranks. They held no office, and the boy who was lieutenant-colonel last year, was nothing better than a private now.
Don and Bert greeted their friends cordially, and as soon as the latter could free himself from their clutches, he beckoned to Mr. Brigham and Lester, who followed him through the hall and into the superintendent’s room.
CHAPTER II.
BIRDS OF A FEATHER.
“Which one of these trunks do you belong to, Gordon?” inquired a young second-lieutenant, whose duty it was to see that the students were assigned to rooms as fast as they arrived.
“The one with the canvas cover is mine,” replied Don.