Part 2

“‘This begins to grow blamed ridiculous,’ said Curtis, after we’d patiently footed it for about two miles and a half. ‘I’m not so dead sure about our not being lost. But I’ve had my orders. “Follow copy if it takes you out of the window” is a good enough rule for me’--in civil life, you know, Curtis was a newspaper man--‘and so I’ll heel-and-toe it over this blossoming path until we land in the middle of next week.’

“‘Hello!’ he broke out a moment later, ‘the advance guard begins to show signs of life!’ And with that he halted the company, as the sergeant--who, with two men, had preceded the company by a hundred yards or so--came running back towards us. ‘Well, sergeant, what is it? Are we in sight of land yet?’

“‘I haven’t _seen_ anything, sir,’ reported the sergeant, ‘but I just heard something like shouting, and after that a few shots; not volleys, just scattering pops.’

“‘The skirmishers starting in, most likely,’ commented Curtis, ‘though that wouldn’t account for the shouting.’

“‘But the sound appeared to come from our left,’ went on the sergeant; ‘and that seems queer.’

“‘From your _left_?’ repeated Curtis, break-off a small twig and thoughtfully chewing one end of it. ‘The deuce it did! Then we’ve marched half ’round a circle, or else the colonel’s flanked _us_. According to all the rules of the game the enemy ought to be engaged on our right. _‘Tention!_ Silence in the ranks!’

“We all stood motionless in our tracks, and listened intently. And sure enough, from somewhere ahead of us and to our left, there came the faint sound of a distant uproar, and the echo of an occasional shot.

“‘H’m! I’m completely twisted,’ muttered Curtis, as with wrinkled brows he stood listening to the far-off racket. ‘I can’t seem to make it out at all. Sounds like a picnic of the Gentlemen’s Sons’ Chowder Club! Well, push ahead with your men, sergeant, and keep your eyes and ears well stretched. Keep quiet, and close up, there in the company!’ And we took up our march again.

“‘_Halt!_’ commanded Curtis, in a low tone, but sharply, as we turned an abrupt corner in the path and caught sight of the sergeant standing with one hand warningly uplifted. ‘Great Scott! We seem to be operating against field-works, and heavy ones too!’ For across the old road, a couple of hundred yards away down the leafy vista, there loomed up before us a high, steep embankment of bright, fresh gravel, clearly outlined against the dull gray of the sky and the dark green of the foliage.

“‘Now be perfectly silent, everybody; and you, Lane’--to the first lieutenant--‘take charge of the company. I’m going to look into the situation for myself,’ said Curtis. And then quickly running forward he joined the sergeant and his men, scrambled with them up the high bank, turned to the left, and disappeared behind the shrubbery.

“For perhaps ten minutes we stood waiting and listening. The noise now was distinctly audible, and I counted the reports of eleven shots before the captain’s figure again came into view upon the crest of the gravel-bank. Well, he waved his arm as a signal for us to advance, and we double-timed it down the path in beautiful form, for during that halt of ours we had been growing terribly inquisitive about what was in the wind, and we were in somewhat of a hurry to find out.

“At a gesture from Curtis we halted at the foot of the slope. He had pulled out a note-book, and was scratching away in it like a crazy reporter; but finally he ripped out two or three leaves, folded them up, and sang out, ‘Corporal Campbell, you’re supposed to be a sprinter: you will take this note, with my compliments, to Major Elliott--and waste no seconds in doing your distance. Give your rifle and equipments to the hospital steward. On your mark--set--_go_!’

“‘And now, boys,’ he continued, as the corporal, after loading me down with his impedimenta, started off on his long run, ‘I’ve found out what’s making all this row. In the first place, it’s evident that we’ve been travelling the wrong road’--it afterwards appeared, though Elliott hadn’t notified us of the fact, that there were _two_ old wood-roads, of which we carefully had avoided the right one--‘and I haven’t the slightest idea of where we are. But this embankment apparently is the road-bed of that branch which the B. S. & N. Y. is building, and about a third of a mile from us there’s a howling mob of Italians--something less than a thousand and more than two hundred of ’em: I didn’t stop to count--laying regular siege to a shanty in which, in all probability, they’ve got their contractors cornered like rats in a trap. I don’t know anything about the cause of the shindy--more than likely it’s the old story of overdue pay and ugly tempers--but it’s a royal rumpus, whatever started it, and if nobody’s been hurt yet, somebody’s bound to be hurt soon, unless the strong arm of the law sits down hard upon the troubled sea over yonder.’ And with this elegant example of metaphor he stopped to catch breath.

“‘Now, after a fashion, _we_ are the strong arm of the law,’ went on Curtis, ‘and I think it’s plainly our duty to sail in, and pour the oil of peace upon the raging waters. I’ve no orders to cover the case; I haven’t any “lawful precept” from mayor or selectmen or anybody else, but--_now don’t yell!_--if you’ll follow me, I’ll take you along to see the entertainment. All who’ll volunteer to go will come to right-shoulder!’

“Up went the fifty-odd rifles in one-time-and-three-motions, and Curtis continued: ‘That’s the proper stuff! Now, we shall be a half-hundred against a very good-sized mob, and though we are well enough armed, we’re without any ammunition except blanks. It’s dollars to dimes that the bare sight of us will quiet down the ruction, but I don’t care to take any chances. I’ve got to fit you out in _some_ way--how the pretty-pink-blazes shall I do it?’

“He stood thinking for a moment, then made the company form fours--we’d been marching column-of-twos, the path being so narrow--swung the fours into line, and caused arms to be stacked. ‘Now every man of you,’ said he, when the men stood clear of the stacks, ‘will provide himself with ten bits of twig, of the same diameter as a lead-pencil, and about half the length of one. See that the twigs are smooth and straight, so that they’ll slip cleanly into the rifle-chamber--and, if you want to, you may sharpen one end of ’em. _Break ranks!_--and start in on your whittling.’

“‘Aren’t you afraid that those bullets will be liable to key-hole, Captain?’ sang out one of the lieutenants, with a pleasant grin at his own humor and the prospect of coming trouble.

“‘Can’t tell,’ replied Curtis cheerfully, ‘at least, until we’ve tried ’em. I’m all at sea about trajectories, initial velocities, and all that. We’ll have to work out our musketry theories as we go along. All fitted out, you lads down there? Then fall in!’

“The company formed up, and broke stacks; and then Curtis gave his final directions. ‘Just a word more, boys: if I have to give the command “_load!_” you will open chamber, thrust into the bore a wooden bullet, and send home after it a blank cartridge. You must keep muzzles elevated, or else your projectiles will slip out. And lastly, if the wild men whom we’re going to visit should exhibit any desire to rush us, I shall order you to drop your cleaning-rods into your barrels--and we’ll try the effect of harpooning ’em at short range. That’s all. Fours right--_march!_’ And like a small army of ants we swarmed up the sloping bank of sliding gravel, and started on our march down the railway.

“Picking up the advance guard as we went, we tramped rapidly forward, and in a very short time came in sight of the theatre of operations. Sure enough, the comedy--or, for all we then knew, the tragedy--was in full blast, for a roaring mob of swarthy Italians was surging ’round a roughly built shanty, and amusing itself by yelling, and sending an occasional stone or bullet at the closed doors and windows. Whoever was inside was lying very low indeed, for there was no response from within to the demonstrations of the attacking party, and only the lively interest shown by those outside made it appear that the place was tenanted at all.

“The rascals caught sight of us when we were about forty rods from them, and for a moment I thought that I detected signs of a stampede; but when they saw how few we were--for fifty men in column-of-fours don’t make a very imposing showing--they bundled together in a devilishly ugly and suggestive sort of way, and waited for us to come up.

“We left the railway, formed line upon a level stretch of ground, moved forward a hundred yards or so, and then halted.

“‘Now may heaven forgive me the sinful thought,’ said Curtis, as he stood sizing up the savage rabble before him, ‘but I’ve seven-eighths of a mind to give it to ’em where they stand! That aggregation of deviltry is too tempting!’ But, however strong the temptation may have been, he manfully overcame it, and stepping half-a-dozen paces to the front called out, ‘Is there any one among you who speaks English?’

“For answer the children of sunny Italy sent up a derisive and most provoking yell; and so Curtis, failing to obtain an interpreter from the ranks of the enemy, turned to us, with, ‘Not much satisfaction to be had from them, apparently. Does anybody in the company know their lingo?’

“It seemed that our ignorance was on a par with theirs, for nobody confessed to a working knowledge of Italian. For one insane moment, to be sure, I was impelled to step out and address the offending foreigners in the ancient tongue of their native land; but to save my soul I couldn’t lay hand upon anything besides _Arma virumque cano_, and”--

“Latin again, by thunder!” I said, enthusiastically. “Ah! but you _are_ up in the humanities, Bones.”

“And that, you know,” placidly went on the surgeon, with a nod in recognition of my admiration, “was hardly the extent of what I wished to say--though it may have been, after a fashion, apposite to the requirements of the occasion. So I let the chance to distinguish myself slip by unimproved, and stuck to my place in the file-closers.

“‘Now I _am_ in a hole!’ admitted Curtis, after this double failure in his attempt at opening the way to a parley. ‘I’m stumped at this phase of the business--and blessed if I know just what card to lead next!’

“‘Ah! you _will_, will you?’ he growled, as three or four stones came sailing over at us. ‘Well, that’s cue enough for me. _Fix bayonets!_’ There was a metallic rattle and clash, as the fifty steel jabbing-tools were put into place for business. ‘With ball cartridge--_load!_’

“‘And now, in the name of the Commonwealth,’ bellowed Curtis, after he had seen his men tuck away in their rifles wood enough to keep a match factory running full time for a week, ‘I command ye to disperse!’

“‘Skip--scatter--_vamose!_’ he added by way of explanation, waving his arms like a farmer driving away mosquitoes. ‘Get a move on you, and clear out, you obstinate lunatics! _Sabe? Comprenez? Understand?_’

“It seemed to me that the mob displayed symptoms of wavering: and when Curtis, in his deepest and most awe-inspiring tone, commanded, ‘_Aim!_’ I drew a breath of relief, for I felt that when The Forty Thieves levelled their fifty rifles in one long, threatening line, a break must surely follow. But just at this critical moment the door of the shanty was flung open, and three men dashed out and went tearing off towards the woods. And _then_ the break came!--though not just in the way I had anticipated. For, utterly disregarding us, the swarthy madmen, with a wild yell of delight, sprang off in pursuit of their escaping prey.

“It was a horrible sight--upon my soul, a _horrible_ sight!--to see the brutal fierceness of that sudden rush. And it made me fairly sick to think of the pounding and stabbing and murderous kicking that surely would follow if the mob once caught the miserable men whom it was hunting down. I only wish that those who frown upon the service could have been with us then--for they would have had an awful object-lesson in the necessity for maintaining the military establishment, even in this enlightened land and in these peaceful days.

“I must admit that the unexpected hideousness of the whole thing threw me clean off my balance for the moment; but Curtis kept his head, and did his duty as he saw it cut out for him. ‘Aim waist-high!’ he commanded, running to the windward flank of the company in order to observe the effect of the volley. ‘_Fire!_’ And, with a report like that of a single big cannon-cracker, The Forty Thieves came into the game.

“I heard a chorus of outlandish yelps and howls immediately after the volley rang out, and, to my infinite relief and satisfaction, when the smoke drifted up and away I saw that the rabble was scattering in every direction. Five or six men were down, but whether they’d been hit or simply had tumbled over each other, I can’t say, for--with the exception of one fellow--they all scrambled straightway to their feet, and pranced off to cover in a way that convinced me that their wounds, if they had any, weren’t liable to be instantly fatal.

“Well, there was _my_ cue. I handed to the nearest sergeant the rifle I’d been carrying, and ran over to hold a _post mortem_--still more Latin, you’ll observe--on the man that we’d bowled over. When I started towards him he seemed to be out of it, for he lay quite still; but just as I reached him he began to jabber and snarl and twist himself into bow-knots, for all the world as if he’d eaten a peck of green apples, and was undergoing the consequences. Flapping him over upon his back I began to search for his hurt, but I didn’t have to make a very extended hunt, for--well, what do you suppose I found?”

“Can’t guess,” said I, fishing out a bit of ice from the bottom of my emptied glass; “unless your man was skewered on one of those wooden plugs.”

“That’s not so wide as it might be,” laughed Bones, “for I found a stylographic pen--yes, sir; a _stylographic pen_!--tightly driven into the muscles of his neck. Regular hypodermic injection of ink, by ginger! _That_ proved the pen mightier than the sword, eh?”

“So it would seem,” said I. “But whose pen was it?”

“I never found out,” said the surgeon. “Whoever it was that got excited enough to shoot it away was too much ashamed to claim it afterwards, and I still have it.

“Well, that’s nearly all the story of the war with Italy. We held the field until Elliott came up with his battalion; and later, Hazeltine came ploughing down the railway with the other eight companies--after which, of course, peace reigned supreme. I daresay you remember the court of inquiry on Curtis, and the newspaper discussion about the whole business?”

“Yes,” said I, rising from my chair, after a glance at my watch; “and I remember reading that Curtis came near getting into uncomfortably hot water for taking the law so calmly into his hands.”

“Humph! That was all very well,” said the doctor, rising and going towards the spot where he had tossed his coat. “But if those who questioned Curtis’ authority to do as he did only could have seen what _I_ had the privilege of seeing, they’d have chipped in to buy him a presentation sword, instead of criticising his actions so freely. Well, I must dine somewhere, I suppose, and I think your club will do me.” And we slipped quietly down the stairs, leaving Sam still sleeping.

A TALE OF TWO TOWERS.

This tale might just as well have been christened _Under Two Flags_, for it was under two flags, and through the medium of a third one, that all the trouble worked itself out. But, since another and an earlier writer has had the bad taste to apply this desirable title to a creation frankly lacking in the first elements of that which is the truth, I am constrained, because of its unfortunate associations, to put it to one side and seek yet another--for I find myself restricted to the setting-down of none but sombre facts. And the facts in the matter are these:

One afternoon in late September it chanced that my personal affairs took me up into the twelfth story of one of the lofty office-buildings which rear themselves, crag-like, above the very fertile soil of those shadowy and narrow valleys, our down-town streets. What was my exact errand is here of no consequence. It is enough if I say that I was endeavoring to make a man see a certain thing in the same light in which _I_ saw it, and that, after having failed most miserably in the attempt, I had risen to go, when he glanced out through the window and said, “You’re up in that sort of thing: tell me, what’s going on over yonder?”

I followed the direction of his glance, across a mile-wide wilderness of ill-assorted roofs and chimneys, to where the great tower of the regimental armory lifts its bulk above the brick-and-mortar dwarfs that cluster in its shadow. And there, upon the summit of the topmost flanking-turret, my eye caught the flutter of a speck of red bunting.

“That?” said I; “why, that’s a signal detachment at flag-practice. Well, I must be going. Sorry I can’t make you listen to reason.” And I went--to risk my life in the downward rush of an express elevator.

Now, that glance from the twelfth-story window sealed my fate for the rest of the afternoon. My good nature had been placed under heavy strain, and the never-ending rush and racket of the swarming streets jarred so tormentingly upon my tired head that--with the blessed recklessness of the boy who cares not one darn whether school keeps or not--I consigned business to total smash, swung myself upon a passing car, and was trundled gaily along towards freedom, sunlight, and the armory.

“For Kenryck will be there,” I told myself, “and I can talk to him. And my pipe will be there, and I can smoke it. And I can sit on the parapet wall, and look out over the harbor--and forget how infernally mean everything is.”

And Kenryck was there. I dropped off the car, walked down to the armory, dived into the staff-room to get my pipe from its pigeon-hole in my desk, dived into the armorer’s den after a bunch of matches, and then climbed up and up, flight after flight of narrow stairs, to the top of the main tower. And there, in luxurious ease, Kenryck sat in state upon a camp-stool: a note-book on his knee, a bull-dog jammed between his teeth, and his field-glasses well in play.

“Kenryck, I’m weary,” I announced, as my head emerged from the trap in the tower roof, “and I’ve come to--”

“Shut up, will you, for a minute,” said Kenryck cordially. “Hi! you, up there”--to the signalman twenty feet in the air above us, upon the little turret--“what’s that? How’s that last message? _No enemy visible on Lexington road?_ Yes, that’s right. Down flag! Rest!” Then to me, “Hullo, old man. Pull the rest of yourself out of that hole, and come on deck. Royal old afternoon, isn’t it?”

I stepped up and out upon the tiles. “Don’t mind me in the least, Ken.,” I said. “I’ve not come to bother you. I’m only here for rest and peaceful contemplation. So go ahead with your wig-wagging, and I’ll be a non-combatant.”

“Oh, you’re no bother at all,” said Kenryck very kindly. “It’s the inquisitive maniacs who ask fool questions and think it’s queer that I don’t offer to teach ’em the whole code in five minutes--_they’re_ the ones that make signalling an everlasting joy.”

“I suppose so,” said I, taking off my hat, to let the fresh breeze rumple its way through my hair. “But I’ve stopped your game, just the same. Wake up those flags of yours: I like to watch them waving.”

“You’ve stopped nothing,” protested Kenryck. “I’d been squinting through these glasses until my eyes ached, and I was just going to take a minute off, when you came popping up through the trap like the fairy in a pantomime.”

“I’m breaking in three new men,” he went on, in a lower tone. “One of ’em”--with a nod towards the turret--“I’ve got in the box up there: one of my sergeants has another, out on Corey Hill: and the third one’s in charge of still another sergeant, over across the river, in Cambridge, on the tower of Memorial Hall. Running a three-station circuit, you see. Message starts here, goes through the hill station, and lands on top of t’other tower: _vice versa_ with the answer. I’m taking it easy, you’ll notice: just sitting here in the shade and keeping tabs on the Cambridge station through that embrasure. My man overhead calls off the signals from the hill: I jot ’em down: and so I can see that they tally with the original. Great system!”

“Great head!” said I: then, with an upward glance at the clean-cut face of the young soldier leaning easily against the parapet of the turret, “You’ve pulled in some good men, eh?”

“Beauties, all three of ’em!” said Kenryck enthusiastically; “just out of college; all from the same class. Only had ’em a trifle over three months, but they’ve picked up the trick to a charm. Clever? Well, rather! Just see how easily this boy handles his business.” And calling out--“Attention! Call ‘B’ station”--my friend the signal officer went on with his work.

For a time, as he told off the combinations to be made, I followed the fluttering of the swiftly dipping and rising flag. But the whole thing was Sanscrit to me, and it wasn’t long before I wearied of watching it. So when Kenryck, in an interval between messages, turned to me and said, “Simple enough, isn’t it? Begin to catch on?”--I answered, “Well, perhaps in about twenty years I might, but just at present the waving of a red flag conveys to me only four meanings--‘Auction,’ when it’s waved before a building; ‘Miss,’ when it’s waved across the face of a target; ‘Stop!’ when it’s waved in front of a railway train; and ‘Come ahead fast!’ when it’s waved in the face of an ugly bull.” And having thus frankly admitted myself a rank outsider, so far as concerned the science of signalling, I gave myself over to the soothing influence of tobacco and the contemplation of my surroundings.

It has been my fortune to find many a less attractive spot than the tiled roof of our armory tower, with its encircling parapet, broken by alternate embrasure and loop-holed merlon, and with its octagonal turret at one corner, standing--like a sentry on post--in bold relief against the sky. Moreover, the sun was warm, the breeze was cool, and the combination was altogether comforting. And I speedily forgot, one after another, the petty annoyances of my down-town day.

I stepped over to the breast-high wall, rested my elbows upon the capstone, dropped my chin into my hands, and gazed out over the world. Far down in the streets below I could see the pigmy shapes of men, busily crawling to and fro in the anxious chase after money, and seeming--they and their affairs, too--so pitifully insignificant. Which caused me to reflect that it would be good that all mankind should spend an hour each day upon a tower, to gain a better idea of the relative size of things. And I farther was impressed. But never mind. This is a tale of _two_ towers, and I am allowing myself to neglect the other of the twain.

“Mother of Moses!” muttered Kenryck, just as I had turned--after a sweeping glance around the range of low, green hills which, upon three sides, hem in the city--to look out upon the harbor, with its gray-walled forts and glistening sails, “_Mother_ of Moses! What ails the boys in Cambridge?”

“Can’t tell, I’m sure,” said I, looking across the river towards the spot where the other tower showed itself above the trees. “I fail to see signs of anything distressful. Time _was_ when I knew what ailed the boys in Cambridge--but that time’s long gone by! What seems to be the excitement at the present moment?”