The fifteen minutes allotted for hand-shaking having expired, the students fell in and set out for the academy. As they marched through the gate the bell in the cupola rung out a joyful greeting, the artillery saluted them, and the boys in the first, second and fourth companies presented arms. They moved at once to the armory, and after listening to a stirring speech from the superintendent the ranks were broken, and their campaign against the Hamilton rioters was happily ended.
“And I, for one, never want to engage in another,” said Captain Mack, as he and Don and Curtis set out in search of Egan and Hopkins. “Have you heard some of the fellows say that they wish they had been there?”
Yes, they and all the returned soldiers had heard a good deal of such talk from boys who would have died before giving up their guns, and who were loud in their criticisms of Mr. Kellogg, who ought to have stopped the train at least half a mile from the mob, and fired upon it the moment it appeared. What a chance this would have been for Lester Brigham, if he had only been in a situation to improve it! If he had never known before that he made a great mistake by feigning illness on the night the false alarm was sounded, he knew it now. He could not conceal the disgust he felt whenever he saw a third-company boy surrounded by friends who were listening eagerly to his description of the fight. Such sights as these made him all the more determined to get away from the academy where he had always been kept in the background in spite of his efforts to push himself to the front. And worse than all, there was Don Gordon, who had come home with the marks of a rioter’s knife on his coat and belt, who had behaved with the coolness of a veteran, and showed no more fear than he would have exhibited if he had been engaged in a game of snow-ball.
“I’ll bet he was under a seat more than half the time, and that nobody noticed him,” said Lester, spitefully.
“Oh, I guess not,” said Jones. “Gordon isn’t that sort of a fellow. Well, they have had their fun, and ours is yet to come. There will be a jolly lot of us sent down at the end of the term. What do you suppose your governor will say to you?”
“Not a word,” replied Lester, confidently. “He didn’t send me here to risk life and limb by fighting strikers who have done nothing to me, and when he gets the letters I have written him, he will tell me to start for home at once.”
“But you’ll not go?” said Jones.
“Not until we have had our picnic,” replied Lester.
“Perhaps your father won’t care to have Jones and me visit you,” remarked Enoch.