Harper's Round Table, February 16, 1897

by Various

We had a long meeting and much discussion; but as we had bought our material, and as we had no money to buy more, we at last regretfully concluded that the best thing we could do would be to make up our blouses of the blue, and try to forget that they ought to be green.

Vacation was passing, and there was no time to be lost if we expected to make a successful summer campaign, and our uniforms were immediately put into the hands of our mothers, sisters, and aunts. In most cases there was but little trouble in inducing these good relatives to make the blouses, although I think we were all of us told that it would have been a great deal better if we had asked some lady to buy our goods for us. But as this would have deprived us of a great and independent pleasure, it should hardly have been expected.

There was an exception, however, to the ready consent of our families to do our tailoring-work. The mother of one of our members objected to her son's wearing a uniform of any sort, and although she did not actually forbid his doing so, she would have nothing to do with the fabrication of it. Therefore it was that the poor boy, in the seclusion of his chamber, set to work to make it himself. Some of us found him at this work just as he was about to cut it out; we took it from him, and one of us carried it home, where it was properly made.

While work was going on upon our uniforms we thought it well to attend to the armament of our company, and those who did not possess bows and arrows were ordered to get them as soon as possible, no matter what family assessments might be necessary. Our archery weapons were not of a fancy sort. We had no bows of yew, nor arrows pointed with steel and tipped with fine feathers; but we had good bows, made by a cooper of our acquaintance, and our blunt-headed arrows often sped well to the mark, although they did not stick there. We had discussed the propriety of inserting pieces of sharpened iron into the heads of these arrows, but this improvement having been made known to some of our parents had been strictly forbidden.

As soon as our garments were finished we held a full meeting, in which we all appeared in our new uniforms, and to say that the result was satisfactory would be to make a misstatement. In the city in which we lived there was a great deal of charcoal used, and this fuel was carried about the streets in wagons with high sides, each accompanied by two men, one of whom marched in front, ringing a bell and crying, "Charcoal!" while the other attended to the horse, and shovelled out the charcoal whenever a purchaser hailed him from a house. These men invariably dressed in long blue gowns, and when we were gathered together, attired in our uniforms, there was not one of us who was not immediately reminded of the charcoal-men.

Some were disgusted, and some laughed, but there was no remedy. There were but two things we could do: we must wear our blue blouses, or we must go out on our archery expeditious in our ordinary clothes. In the latter case we would be a mere party of boys, whereas if we marched forth in our uniforms—no matter what color they might be—we were the Ringgold Archers. We chose to stand by our name, our purpose, and our organization.

On the outskirts of our city there were open country, woods, and streams, and it was here that we were to begin our life of "Merrie men under the green-wood tree," and our first expedition was made without delay. Early one afternoon we marched forth into the streets—seven of us—each wearing his blue blouse, his arrows stuck in his belt, and his unstrung bow in his hand. We attracted a good deal of attention. There were people who looked at us and laughed, there were others who wondered, and during our march through town we frequently met with youngsters who cried "Charcoal!" and then ran away. Seven boys—no matter how they might be dressed—were not to be trifled with.

When we reached the country we had a fine time. The birds did not laugh at us, the wild flowers and bushes took no notice of us, except when some sociable blackberry bush endeavored to detain us by seizing the skirts of our flowing robes, and the trees which we used as targets did not always refuse to be hit, whether they represented men or deer, or even an on-coming bear—for there were bold fellows in our company, with good imaginations.

But I cannot tell all the bloodless pleasures of our chase, for I must hasten to relate how this first expedition of the Ringgold Archers was its last. Toward the close of the day, well satisfied with our afternoon's sport, we were returning along a quiet and almost deserted country road, when we met two rough-looking young men.

These fellows, when they beheld the strange procession of blue-clad boys appearing around a turn in the road, were greatly impressed, and they burst into the most vociferous laughter. Of course we did not like this, and we would have been content to pass on, treating the disrespectful fellows with silent contempt; but this the young men did not permit. They stopped us and wanted to know why we were dressed in these blue shirts, and what we intended to do with our bows and arrows. When our organization and our purposes had been explained, they were not satisfied. They examined our arms, and ridiculed them, as they were sure they would not kill anything. They laughed again at our uniform, making those allusions to charcoal which had become familiar to us, and in other ways treated our band with the discourtesy which, although good-humored, was extremely disagreeable to us. When they had jeered at us to their satisfaction, they went their way.