"So far that I intend to take you there in comfort," said a pleasant voice close behind them.
"Oh, father," cried Peter (for it was Mr. Schermerhorn), "how kind of you! Only look, boys!" and he pointed to two double rockaways which were waiting on the pier.
In they all swarmed, managing to find places for everybody (and really, it is surprising how a rockaway can stretch on occasion), and after a rapid drive along a level sandy road, the ha-ha fences of Mr. Schermerhorn's splendid country seat, "Locust Grove," came in view. Soon the carriages entered the beautiful rustic gate, its pillars surmounted by vases, filled with trailing plants; and in a moment more were dashing over the gravelled drive toward the western side of the place.
At one point, the road led directly over a deep ravine, spanned by a bridge of rough logs. Then they whirled past a tranquil lake, dotted with pond lilies, and shaded by drooping willows, through which might be caught a glimpse of the tall white chimneys of the house. At last, with a sudden bend, the drive came out on a wide velvet lawn, relieved by a fringe of the beautiful locusts, covered, at this season of the year, with the fragrant pinkish flowers. At some distance a quaint Chinese summer house served as an observatory; beds of brilliant scarlet verbena and many-colored petunias dotted the grass here and there, and right before them, most beautiful of all in their eyes, was the encampment itself, eight snowy white tents, four in a row, while in the midst rose a tall flagstaff, with the dear old Red, White, and Blue floating from the summit.
"Hurrah, boys, there's the tents!" shouted Peter, at the top of his voice "Come, let's see who'll get there first;" and, before the carriage could stop, Peter had hopped out, tumbled head over heels on the soft grass, jumped up, and scampered on in advance, followed a moment after by the rest.
These wonderful tents were furnished just like real soldiers' dwellings; with a good warm blanket for each of the three occupants, a bright tin basin and tooth mug, a cedar bucket to draw water, a square looking glass, like a sticking plaster, and a couple of wooden lockers (which, between ourselves, were made of claret boxes) in each one; beside camp stools in abundance for everybody.
"Here's the officers' quarters!" cried George, as he flung open the door of the smoke house.
"No, that's the guard house, Chadwick," said Harry, "where we put the refracti-rac-tic-tactories."
"Oh, is it? I go in for that!" shouted Will Costar, "whatever reractitactories may be."
"You're on the wrong tack now, old chap," added Tom Pringle. "But only see what I've discovered! such a high old battery, boys! six brass cannon nearly as big as boot-jacks. Hurrah for the Dashahed Zouaves!" and away scampered the boys to look at the guns, while Colonel Freddy, quite forgetting his dignity, fell to and executed a volunteer Jim Crow polka, and Peter sang the following ridiculous song, making up words as he went along: