But the Never-Give-Ups were growing decidedly noisy. After they learned that the cider was their own, they must drink more of it, whether they wanted it or not. The consequence was, they soon began to act disgracefully.
"Can't you have peace there, you young scamps?" said one of the big boys from over the river.
"Yes, we will have peace if we have to fight for it," replied the captain, who had drawn the little hunchback Jock to his side, and was darting glances at Abe Noonin as sharp as a cut-and-thrust sword.
"Mr. Chase," said Dr. Hilton, struck with a new idea, "those boys act as if they were drunk."
"Why, how can they be?" returned Mr. Chase; "they've had nothing to drink but innocent cider."
"Any way," cried the doctor, "they are getting up a regular mob, and we shall have to quail it!"
Too true: it was necessary to quell the Never-Give-Ups, that orderly artillery company, the pride of the town! Quell it, and order it off the grounds!
Dire disgrace! Their steps were unsteady and slow; their heads were bowed, but not with grief, for, to say the truth, they did not fully comprehend the situation.
"The little captain is the furthest gone of any of them," said Dr. Hilton. Indeed, before he reached home he was unable to walk, and Stephen carried him into the house in his arms. Not that Willy had drunk so much as some of the others, but it had affected him more.
Poor Mrs. Parlin! She had to know what was the matter with her boy; and the shock was so great that she went to bed sick, and Mr. Parlin sent for the doctor.