“Well, then, follow my aide here, and he’ll put you in charge of the captain.”
In orderly array, the eight scouts of the signal corps left headquarters and were duly presented to the captain in command of the detachment of Blues. Their work began that very evening, for they were ordered to proceed from camp and take possession of a high mound east of the village, a strategic point which the Reds coveted, because it commanded telegraphic communication with Oakvale.
By the time this mound had been scaled and captured, after a skirmish with a few Red defenders, the eight new recruits, albeit thrilled by their first experience of mock warfare, were thoroughly tired. Wrapped in their blankets, they stretched themselves on the grassy slope of the mound.
“We’re safe enough here, and we can be comfortable,” said Alec to Walter Osborne.
“Good fun, this,” was Walter’s sleepy comment. “I’m going to sleep with one eye open.” He pulled the blanket over him, and yawned. “Forty winks for me, this night!”
“Forty-four thousand, you mean! I have a life-size picture of you sleeping with one eye open, after all we’ve been through to-day! Well, I’m dog-weary. Good night, old scout, and pleasant dreams.”
“Same to you, Alec.”
“You fellows shut up and go to sleep!” came Cooper Fennimore’s voice: out of the darkness. “Hi, there, Arthur! Quit punching me in the ribs!”
“Never touched you,” protested Arthur, in a drowsy drawl.
“Hugh, why so silent?” demanded Sam.