"We didn't steal it," said the indignant Sergeant. "We came to guard it!"
"To guard it! Well, you didn't have much luck, then, for it's been gone this half-hour. Mr. Scott, he's in a terrible way about it."
"My, how early they must have come!" exclaimed Tom.
"They? Who?"
"Why, the fellows we came to keep from taking it." And then he explained to the astonished farmer.
The result was that the "Raleigh Reds" were recalled, trembling, from their refuge behind the rail breastwork. Dom Pedro was quieted down, and the demoralized squad was marched sheepishly to the house as prisoners of war of the tall farmer.
Mr. Scott interviewed them, and his anger gave way to amusement as the boys told, in shamefaced confusion, of their part in the evening's work.
"What your men need, Captain, is experience," he said; "so I will make a bargain with you. If you manage to bring the cannon back by twelve o'clock to-morrow morning, I will promise to furnish the finest display of fireworks ever seen in this town, to celebrate the valor of the 'Raleigh Reds.'"
The boys blushed as crimson as their colors at these words, but Tom replied, stoutly:
"We'll do it, Mr. Scott. Just see if we don't. I know we deserve to be locked up in the guard-house for desertion; but give us one more chance, and if we can't do anything but retreat, and in disorder too, then we'd better give up the soldier business altogether."