Captain Mack and his chosen men did not get much sleep that night. Although they firmly believed that a large party of students had deserted the camp they had no positive proof of the fact, and they were in a state of great uncertainty and suspense. They hoped from the bottom of their hearts that Lester and the rest would not come in, for if they did, that was the end of the fun. Some of them ran out of their tents every time a sentry challenged, and always breathed easier when they found that none of the suspected parties had returned. At ten o’clock the challenges ceased, and after that no one came through the lines. Captain Mack went to the guard tent and found that none of Lester’s crowd had returned, and then he knew that his scout was an assured thing. The band was gone sure enough, and the next thing was to find it. All the members of his squad reported for duty promptly at daylight (not one of them waited to be called), and in five minutes more they were on their way to the village.
“Now, boys,” said the captain, as he halted the squad in front of the post-office, “scatter out, and take a look about the streets for half an hour, and then report for breakfast at the International, which will be our headquarters as long as we stay here. I will go down there and tell them that we want something to eat as soon as they can dish it up.”
The boys “scattered out” in obedience to their order, and a short time afterward Don Gordon drew up at Haggert’s dock, where he found a portly old gentleman who seemed to be greatly excited about something, for he was striding back and forth, talking to himself and flourishing his cane in the air. This was Mr. Packard—the one to whom Don and Bert presented their letter of introduction on the night they got into trouble with the guard, and saved Sam Arkwright from being ducked in the big pond by Tom Fisher and his followers.
“I declare I don’t understand this thing at all,” said Mr. Packard, shaking his cane at Don, as the latter came up and wished him a hearty good morning.
“Neither do I,” replied Don, who knew that the angry old gentleman expected him to say something.
“Now there’s that villain, Coleman,” continued Mr. Packard, bringing the iron ferrule of his heavy stick down upon the dock to give emphasis to his words. “I’ve done everything I could for that man. I’ve footed his doctor bill when he was ill, paid him more wages than he demanded, given him employment when I didn’t really need him, and now he’s gone and run off with my boat. I say hanging is too good for such an ingrate. Come up to the house and take breakfast with me, Don. We haven’t seen you and Bert there in a long time. What are you doing here at this hour in the morning? Have you deserted again, you young scamp?”
“No, sir,” said Don, emphatically. “I haven’t been in a single scrape this term.”
“You were in that fight at Hamilton, and I call that something of a scrape. Everybody says you behaved with the greatest coolness. I am proud of you, do you hear me?” said Mr. Packard, again shaking his cane at Don.
“Thank you, sir,” was the reply. “What I meant to say was, that I have broken none of the rules, and don’t mean to, either. Do you see this bayonet? I am on duty, and consequently, I am obliged, much to my regret, to decline your kind invitation. I am out after a lot of deserters.”
“I hope you’ll not catch them,” exclaimed Mr. Packard. “Let them enjoy themselves while they are young, for old age comes all too soon—too soon. I haven’t forgotten that I was a boy once myself. Come up to the house as often as you can—you and Bert. We are always glad to see you.”