The volunteer reddened, and drew himself up. “I am not a policeman,” he said. “I am a soldier.”
“Very well, then your first duty as a soldier is to obey orders. I order you to take these men to Welland.”
The volunteers had crowded around as this discussion went on, and a murmur rose among them at the order of the officer. They evidently sympathized with their comrade’s objection to the duties of a policeman. One of them made his way through the crowd, and cried:
“Hello! this is the professor. This is Mr. Renmark. He’s no Fenian.” Two or three more of the university students recognized Renmark, and, pushing up to him, greeted him warmly. He was evidently a favorite with his class. Among others young Howard pressed forward.
“It is nonsense,” he cried, “talking about sending Professor Renmark to jail! He is no more a Fenian than Governor-General Monck. We’ll all go bail for the professor.”
The officer wavered. “If you know him,” he said, “that is a different matter. But this other man has a letter from the commander of the Fenians, recommending him to the consideration of all friends of the Fenian cause. I can’t let him go free.”
“Are you the chief in command here?” asked Renmark.
“No, I am not.”
“Mr. Yates is a friend of mine who is here with me on his vacation. He is a New York journalist, and has nothing in common with the invaders. If you insist on sending him to Welland, I must demand that we be taken before the officer in command. In any case, he and I stand or fall together. I am exactly as guilty or innocent as he is.”
“We can’t bother the colonel about every triviality.”