While the quartermaster was at the house, Tommy and George had built a fire, to boil the coffee. Two crotched stakes were driven firmly in the ground. A stout rod lay across them, and on this hung the kettle. A lively fire was burning underneath, the water boiling. In a few moments the coffee was made.
After washing carefully in the creek,—for everything must be done as soldiers do,—all sat down in a circle on the ground. The coffee was served in tin cups; but shall I confess that our soldiers were so unsoldierlike as to drink it with cream and sugar?
Patrick and Michael partook; but as they were absent directly afterwards, under pretence of smoking a noon pipe, I fancy they ate still further rations in the farm-house kitchen. The boys, however, said it was the best dinner they ever ate in their lives.
They were now ready for a visit from the general. “We will have these breastworks,” said he, “smoothed down in regular shape, and sow grass-seed upon them, so that in a few weeks there will be a green slope in place of these unsightly clods.”
I assure you that as I look from my window while writing this story, those slopes appear very pretty, with the merry, sparkling stream flowing between.
But I must hasten; for you will be anxious to know that the pond, gates, outlet, and all were done at last. Then came the day upon which the water was to be let in. A great day it was for the whole neighborhood. All the boys for a mile round were there to see.
When everything was ready, Mr. Davy, who was up at the dam, hoisted the gate; the water came rushing through; in a few moments it had reached the end of its course, and poured over into the pond.
Such a shout as rose from the throats of the forty or fifty boys! It must have surprised those placid meadows and the great solemn rocks around. And you would have thought the sleepy old hills had actually been startled into life, such sounding echoes they sent back in answer.
The water spread itself thinly at first over the bottom of the pond. Slowly it rose; the little hollows were filled up, the slight elevations hidden from sight. Gradually it closed round the tiny green island which stood out above its surface like an emerald set in shining silver. By night the pond was full. The water began running over the top of the gate, making the prettiest little waterfall, and over it a light spray rose softly towards the evening sky.
Bright and early the next morning there was commotion at the Davys’. The boys were going to Maxwell’s Creek, ten miles away, fishing. Mrs. Davy was stirring round, preparing their lunch. George and Percy hurried to the stable.