Here the superintendent paused and looked at the adjutant, who stepped forward and drew his note-book from his pocket.
“Mack, you’re a brick,” said Egan, in an audible whisper.
“He’s a born fool,” said Jones to the boy who stood next him. “I didn’t give him authority to speak for me, and I’ll not stir one step. If he wants to go down there and be pounded to death by that mob, he can go and welcome; but he shall not drag me along with him.”
“It is not expected that boys who take refuge in the attic or hide in coal-bins, or who are seized with the pangs of sickness at the very first notes of a false alarm, would be of any use to you if you should get into trouble,” added the superintendent. “Consequently those boys will be permitted to remain at the academy. As fast as their names are called they will fall out of the ranks and form a squad by themselves under command of Sergeant Elmer, who will have charge of them until their company returns.”
Some of those who had behaved with so much timidity the night before, thought this the severest punishment that could be inflicted upon them. They were virtually branded as cowards in the presence of the whole school, and they felt it most keenly; but the others, those who had determined to be sent down since their parents would not allow them to leave the academy, as they wanted to do, did not seem to mind it at all. They were perfectly willing to be disgraced. They fell out of the ranks as their names were called, and after their places had been supplied by boys from the first and second companies whom the superintendent knew he could trust, they were all marched down to the dining-hall.
There was little dinner eaten that day, for their excitement took away all their appetites. The hum of animated conversation arose above the clatter of knives and forks from all except the third company boys, who were already looked upon as heroes by some of their companions. They were going down to the city to face an infuriated mob, and who can tell what the result might be? These boys talked only in whispers, and the all-absorbing question with them was: What teacher would be sent in command of them? Everybody seemed to think it would be Professor Odenheimer, who, by his fiery lectures, had now the appellation of “Fighting Jacob,” which the students transformed into “Viting Yawcop.” Everybody seemed to think, too, that if he were sent in command, they would stand a fine chance of getting into a fight, whether the mob forced it upon them or not.
The study-call was not sounded that afternoon, because the teachers knew that there would be no studying done. The students gathered in little groups in the building and about the grounds, and there was an abundance of talk, argument and speculation. They were all anxious for news, and it did not take long to raise a crowd. If a teacher, an officer or an orderly stopped for a moment to exchange a word or two with one of the students, they were very soon joined by a third, the number was rapidly augmented, and a large assembly was quickly gathered. The wildest rumors were freely circulated as facts, and if the third company boys had believed half they heard, it is hard to tell whether or not their courage would have stood the test. The excitement arose to fever-heat when a messenger-boy, who had been passed by the sentry at the gate, ran up the walk with a brown envelope in his hand.
“What is it? What is it?” cried the students, as he dashed through their ranks.
“It’s for the superintendent,” was the boy’s reply.