The flutter of excitement which this proposition caused in every part of the school-room indicated that the students were all in favor of it; but it seems that the superintendent wasn’t. There would be no objection, he said, if the parade were to come off immediately; but the 24th of July was the day that had been set for the celebration; it would take three days to march there, as many more to return, and seven days of study taken from the end of the term would certainly show in the examination. They were too valuable to be wasted. One day was all he could allow them.
The second thing he wished them to understand was this: The parade would be an event of some consequence. It would afford them as much pleasure as the fight with the Mount Pleasant Indians. They would be surrounded by well-drilled men who would watch all their movements with critical eyes, and note and comment upon their slightest errors or indiscretions. He had no fears for the majority of the students, for he knew beforehand that they would act like soldiers while they were in the ranks, and like young gentlemen when they were out of them; but there were some among them, he was sorry to say, whose presence would reflect no honor upon their companies—boys who could not keep their eyes directed to the front while they were marching, or hold their heads still on dress-parade, and whose conduct, when they were on the streets and out of sight of their teachers and officers, would not be calculated to win the respect of the citizens of Hamilton. He did not want those boys to accompany them, but still he would give them the same chance he gave the others.
They had nearly five weeks of hard study and drill before them, during which time it was possible for any studious and attentive boy to run his standing up to a hundred. Those who did that, might be sure of a holiday and a general good time on the 24th of July; but those who allowed themselves to fall below seventy-five, would be required to remain at the academy. He left the matter in their own hands.
“I say, Don,” whispered Egan, as the students marched out of the school-room, “if this thing had happened last year, you and I would have gone to the hop, wouldn’t we?”
“I believe we would,” answered Don.
“Well, what do you say to——”
“I’ll not do it,” was the emphatic response. “If any of the other fellows have a mind to desert and stay to the roll, they may do it and take the consequences; but I won’t. I haven’t received a single reprimand this term, not even from that old martinet Odenheimer, and what’s more, I don’t intend to put myself in the way of getting one.”
“Good for you, Gordon,” said Egan, approvingly. “Stick to it, and the day that sees you a first-class cadet, will see you lieutenant-colonel of the academy battalion. You hear me?”
“I hope it will,” replied Don. “It certainly will not see me a private; you may depend upon that.”