But Hal sank back in his chair, frightened, nerveless and speechless. He knew that, with Captain Murray disabled, the command of Company E would devolve upon him, and in his heart he knew that he was not fit to be entrusted with that authority. No wonder his pulse fluttered, and his breath came quick, and that he stared across the room with unseeing eyes.
Brownell stopped now and then, in his hurried marching, to give vent to his feelings of grief and anxiety, but McCormack, submerged in thought, was still silent.
Some one knocked at the door and came in to give details, that he had learned from an eye-witness, of the accident to Captain Murray.
Down-stairs the drill-hall buzzed with excitement and indignation. For it was suspected that the injury to the captain was the result of a plot to deprive the company of the services of its regular leader at a critical time, and throw the command to an officer whose declared sympathies were with the prospective rioters. There appeared to have been no excuse for the accident. A car containing two strangers, evidently of some foreign nationality, had deliberately collided with Captain Murray’s automobile at the corner of Main Street and Maple Avenue. The reckless drivers had been arrested and committed to the lock-up, but would give no information concerning themselves or their errand in the city. Barriscale was loud in his demand that a committee should go to Lieutenant Brownell and insist on his assuming command of the company; but the proposition was frowned down by most of the enlisted men. In spite of all that they had heard and seen they still had faith in the first lieutenant and were willing to go out under his leadership.
At nine o’clock Brownell and McCormack commandeered a car and drove to the hospital. But their visit was fruitless. Captain Murray could not be seen. He was in a serious condition, semi-conscious, beginning to suffer greatly. His wife and daughter were in the corridor with white faces and tearful eyes, tormented with anxiety.
When the two commissioned officers returned to the armory they learned that news had come over the wire confirming the rumor of an invasion. It was definitely stated that a large number of radicals and terrorists were secretly preparing to leave the neighboring city some time in the night and march to Fairweather on a hostile errand. But they had not yet started, and Fairweather was twelve miles away.
So, at ten o’clock, the Guardsmen took their shelter-tent rolls and blankets, adjusted them for sleeping purposes, and flung themselves down on the armory floor to rest until the command should come to “fall in.”
Then some one inquired for Chick, and it was recalled that he had not been seen at the armory all the afternoon and evening. Every one knew that excitement like this would have been meat and drink to him. Why was he not here?
Up-stairs, in the officers’ quarters, McCormack and Brownell were again alone. The second lieutenant was reading up on field maneuvers. The first lieutenant, torn with conflicting emotions and desires, was pacing the floor. Suddenly he stopped, and faced Brownell.