After stopping on the plain to see the evening parade of the cadets, and to hear the band, the Ormsbys returned to the hotel and took tea. The night being perfectly clear and dry, and the moon at the full, Gustavus proposed to them a visit by moonlight to the ruins of Fort Putnam.
Ascending the steep and rocky path that leads up the side of the mountain, amid the deep shade of the woods, that resounded with the croak of the tree-frog, and the rapid and singular cry of the night-hawk—they emerged into an opening where the moon shone brightly down, and arrived at the entrance of the fort—whose ruins are scattered over a large space of ground, now covered with grass and wild flowers. They looked into the arched and gloomy cells which once served as quarters for the garrison, or receptacles for military stores; and ascending the eastern rampart by a few narrow steps of loose and tottering stone, they looked down upon the whole extent of the plain lying far below them, with its gardens and houses, on whose windows the moonbeams glittered; its extreme point terminating in a ledge of naked rocks, running far out into the river. They saw a steam-boat coming down, all cast into shade, except the sheets of flame that issued from her chimneys, and her three lanterns sparkling far apart, their brilliant lights reflected on the water; after turning the point, her form was distinctly defined, as she crossed the broad line of moonlight that danced and glittered on the silent river.
Gustavus then conducted his friends to the western side, where the shattered walls of the old fort run along the utmost verge of a perpendicular mass of rock of a stupendous height. Mrs. Ormsby and Madeline shuddered as they looked over the broken parapet into the abyss beneath, the bottom of which is strewed with stones fallen from the lonely ruins; and Mrs. Ormsby kept Frederick carefully beside her, and held him tightly by the hand.
Just then the sound of the fifes, and the drums beating tattoo, ascended from the plain, and our party returned to the other side of the fort, that they might hear it more distinctly. Every note was repeated by the echoes, and the effect was that of another set of musicians playing immediately beneath the mountain. It being now half past nine o'clock, they turned their steps downward; and after proceeding a little distance they missed Frederick. "Another of his tricks," said Mr. Ormsby, "this time we will take no notice."
As they proceeded they heard the most dismal groans. "Frederick again," said Mr. Ormsby. "Incorrigible boy! let us, however, walk on; when he finds that he has failed to frighten us, we shall soon see him running down the mountain. Twice in one day is rather too often to make us believe that he has fallen down the rocks. I wonder he cannot think of something new. To-morrow, he shall certainly be sent home."
They walked on till they reached the foot of the mountain; Mrs. Ormsby and Madeline again feeling very apprehensive as to Frederick's safety—though Mr. Ormsby said he had no doubt he would soon overtake them, or that perhaps he would strike into another road, and be at the hotel as soon as they were.
This, however, did not happen; and after a while, finding that Frederick did not appear, his father became really uneasy, and Mrs. Ormsby and Madeline were exceedingly alarmed. Gustavus had taken a hasty leave, and left them when they reached the plain—being obliged, according to rule, to return to his room in the barracks before ten o'clock.
Two officers who were at the hotel, volunteered to assist Mr. Ormsby in searching for his son; and they went back to Fort Putnam, where, as they approached the entrance of the ruins, the groans again were heard. Guided by the sound, they approached the east side of the parapet; and looking over, perceived something moving among the branches of a cedar that grew half way down. "Frederick!" called Mr. Ormsby. This time he was immediately answered. "Here, here," cried Frederick, "I did really fall down this time, without intending to frighten any body."
They went to him, and found that the cedar tree had saved his life by catching him among its branches and holding him there; but that in the fall he had severely strained his shoulder. The pain, added to his fright, and to his total want of presence of mind, had prevented him from trying to get out of the tree; and he could do nothing but lie there and groan, being really very much hurt.
He was extricated and put on his feet again, and the two gentlemen assisted Mr. Ormsby in conveying him down the mountain. "Now," said his father, "had you not been so much in the habit of raising false alarms, we should have stopped at once when we heard your groans, and had gone in search of you; and you would not have been obliged to remain so long in the tree, and to have suffered so much before you could be relieved." "Oh!" said Frederick in a piteous voice, "I feared I should have been obliged to lie there all night, and perhaps die before any one came near me. However, it is fortunate I did not fall down on the side where the precipice is, for I should certainly have been dashed to pieces among the stones at the bottom."