Company G, the next in order, had a fiery, nervous little captain, who was himself the cause of failure, as, in giving an order, he stepped back too quickly, and ran into one of his men so violently as to throw him down. The man recovered himself well, without throwing anyone else out, but Company G’s chance was lost, and that they realized this was evident from the faces of the boys as they left the field, passing near the entrance, the last of the seven—Company D.
That this company had many friends among the spectators was evident from the noisy welcome that rang out at its approach, and not once during the two days had such a general silence marked the intense interest as now. Edith’s friends had eyes and ears for nothing that was going on around them. They scarcely breathed as Gordon’s clear voice rang out, and his men, as if animated by a single spirit, obeyed his orders.
Gordon’s sister sat next to Edith. Her fair face was flushed with excitement, and her eyes never for an instant turned away from the boys in blue, and their young captain. Once, when a gentleman near exclaimed, “That’s the finest shooting yet,” Bessie Gordon’s hand clasped Edith’s tightly, and her eyes shone with satisfaction, but she spoke no word.
The company had just obeyed the order to lie down and load, when Stanley Clark, with a smothered exclamation, sprang from his place and dashed across to the open seats. As Edith looked after him in surprise, Bessie gripped her hand again, crying out, “Oh Edith, Edith, look!” and Edith looked just in time to see a giant powder-cracker strike the ground not two yards in front of the prostrate boys, where it exploded with a tremendous bang, the sound mingling with the discharge of the guns.
Instantly, there was a medley of shouts, cries, cheers and hisses, but Company D and its captain might have been blind and deaf for all the attention they paid to the uproar. Not a man had flinched when they saw that big cracker coming straight towards their faces, and not a gun had failed to send its volley at the command to “fire!”
Professor Keene and the other teachers quieted the excited crowds in the seats as quickly as possible, and without the slightest interruption the drill proceeded, but when it was over, and Captain Gordon, having saluted the chairman of the judges, turned to lead his company off the field, the audience went wild. Cheer upon cheer rang out. Banners, handkerchiefs, ribbon-decked parasols were waved with reckless disregard of everybody and everything, while the retiring company was literally pelted with flowers.
“It is evident that the audience has decided which is the prize company,” remarked Professor Keene with a smile, to Bessie Gordon, “and I quite agree with the general verdict.”
Bessie’s eyes were full of quiet happiness, now, but her cheeks were still a little pale from the nervous excitement of seeing that blazing cracker flying straight towards those faces that she knew would not move a hair’s breadth to avoid it.
“Here comes the band,” cried half a dozen voices, as the strains of martial music drew all eyes again towards the field, where the regimental drill was now to take place while the judges were making their decision.
But nobody paid very much attention to this. All were awaiting impatiently the announcement of the decision, and when the chairman of the committee declared Company D to have won the prizes, cheer after cheer expressed the satisfaction of the audience; and when the beautiful gold medal was handed to Captain Gordon, his men looked as proud and happy as if each one of them was to wear it himself. It was evident that they did not take half as much pride in their own red ribbons as they did in their captain’s honors.