The two came to a halt outside the inn, standing stiffly at “attention,” and there they remained until Master Phelps was forced to go out and bid the old man enter, that the formality of signing the rolls might be gone through with, after which Isaac Rice was duly entitled to call himself a militiaman.
CHAPTER II. A SECLUDED CAMP.
When these raw recruits departed from the town—Corporal ’Lige insisted that they did not march—they were followed for several miles by nearly all the men and boys in the vicinity.
The old man was greatly exercised because Colonel Easton, who now assumed command, allowed such an unsoldierly proceeding as that his troops should walk arm in arm with their friends, each in his own manner and at his own convenience.
Had the corporal been invested with the proper authority he would have had these raw recruits marshaled into ranks and forced 30 to step in unison, carrying their muskets at the same angle, and otherwise conforming themselves to his idea of soldierly bearing—all this he would have had them do; but whether he could have brought about such a condition of affairs is extremely problematical.
“I allowed Colonel James Easton came somewhere near bein’ a soldier, even though he is only a militiaman,” the corporal said in a tone of intense dissatisfaction to Isaac as the two marched solemnly side by side in the midst of their disorderly companions, “and I did think we could set out from here and capture Ticonderoga, if all hands were willin’ to put their shoulders to the wheel; but I take back that statement, lad, and am sorry I ever was so foolish as to enlist. I ought to have known better when I saw the crowd that was signin’ the rolls.”
“Why, what’s the matter, corporal?” and Isaac looked around in surprise, for until this moment he had believed everything was progressing in proper military fashion.
“Matter?” Corporal ’Lige cried angrily. “Look around and see how these men are comportin’ themselves, an’ then you’ll know. Here are them as should be soldiers, seein’s they’ve signed the rolls, mixed up with citizens till you couldn’t tell one from the other unless personally acquainted with all hands. Then how are they marchin’? Why, a flock of geese couldn’t straggle along in any more ungainly fashion.”
“I shouldn’t suppose it would make any difference how they marched so that they got there in time,” Isaac ventured to suggest timidly.
“Shouldn’t, eh? Then what’s the good of calling themselves soldiers? Why don’t 32 they start out like a crowd of farmers an’ try their hand at taking the fort?”