But for Mr. Horton’s warning in regard to a precedent, Crawford would have received almost as enthusiastic a greeting when he returned half an hour later as had been given to Clark that morning; but, as it was, he slipped quietly into his seat, and the boys only showed their appreciation of the stand he had taken, by surrounding him after school, and asking all sorts of questions about the affair. From this time however, Crawford was “counted in” to whatever was going on, as he never had been before.
In the midst of the strain of approaching examinations, and essays to be prepared, came the annual drill, and though our senior boys had felt, a few weeks before, as if they could hardly spare the time for the extra drilling, yet, after all, Company D did want to keep those red ribbons one more year, and every other company wanted just as much to capture them and that beautiful gold medal; and so, when the great day came, lessons took a second place for once, and the boys in blue came to the front.
This time, there was no disorder, and no unfair dealing. The judges gave high praise to the battalion as a body, and Company D retained the red ribbons. It was the last company on the list, and when, with the little silken badges fluttering in the breeze, it marched off the field, all the other companies united in a cordial cheer for Company D; which unexpected demonstration from the disappointed competitors so pleased Captain Hamlin that, the next day, every boy in the battalion received an invitation to a steamboat trip down the bay, with a shore dinner—all at the expense of Company D, though Hamlin himself paid the bill. And if he thereby deprived himself of a special pleasure trip that his father had promised him, the boys never knew it, and Hamlin was content.
CHAPTER XVIII.
GLADNESS FOR CLARK.
“Who enters here, leaves hope behind.”
This legend, in huge, shaded letters, adorned the blackboard one morning, when a written examination in geometry was to take the place of the usual recitations.
Mr. Horton glanced at Dixon with a smile as he read the sentence, for Dixon was apt to get badly tangled up over those perplexing lines and angles, and was always in the depths of melancholy when an examination in geometry was impending.
Just then Dixon was saying:—
“Wish I could borrow your head this morning, Clark. You wouldn’t mind lending it, would you?”