Don Gordon's Shooting-Box. Castlemon Harry

are you?” said the corporal, peering through the pickets at the two brothers.

      Don gave him their names; whereupon the corporal took a key down from a nail in the sentry’s box, and after unlocking the gate told the boys to come in. They obeyed, and the officer having returned the key to its place drew a note-book from his pocket and wrote something in it. “That’s all right,” said he, as he closed the book and put it back in his pocket.

      “Have we done anything wrong?” inquired Bert, in anxious tones.

      “You will find that out to-morrow,” was the corporal’s very unsatisfactory answer.

      “Why can’t you give a civil reply to a civil question?” demanded Don, impatiently. “We had liberty to go outside the grounds for the evening, and here’s the pass that says so.”

      “I don’t want to see it,” said the corporal, as he buttoned his overcoat and drew the cape over his head. “I know just how it reads. Come on.”

      “Where are you going to take us?” asked Bert, while visions of the gloomy guard-house danced before his eyes.

      “To the officer of the day, of course.”

      “And what will he do with us?”

      “That’s for him to tell. Come on. It’s too cold to stand here any longer.”

      Don and Bert fell in behind the corporal, who led the way to the guard-room, and ushered them into a little office where the officer of the day – a stern old Prussian soldier who wore a medal he had won by his gallantry on the field of battle while serving under Prince Frederick Charles – sat reading a newspaper. When the non-commissioned officer entered with his prisoners he laid the paper down and took off his spectacles.

      “Vel, gorporal,” said he, in a pompous tone, “vat ish the drouble mit dem gadets?”

      “They have overstayed their time, sir,” said the corporal.

      “Vot for you do dot?” demanded the officer of the day, turning fiercely upon the culprits. “Vot for you not come in, ha?”

      “We were not aware that we had overstayed our time, sir,” answered Don. “If we had known that we were expected to return at a certain hour, we should have been here. We had a pass for the evening, and there it is.”

      “Dot’s no good after daps,” said the officer of the day, turning away his head and waving his hand in the air to indicate that he did not care to look at the paper which Don presented for his inspection.

      “I assure you, sir, that it was a mistake on our part,” said Bert.

      But the officer of the day declared, in his broken English and with many gesticulations, that such things as mistakes were not recognized in that academy – that Don and his brother had violated the regulations and might make up their minds to be punished accordingly. Then he ordered them to their quarters, while the corporal went back to his seat by the stove.

      “He didn’t say that we were in arrest, did he?” said Don, as he and Bert ascended the stairs, at the top of which they met the sentry who had charge of that floor, standing with his note-book in his hand.

      “Your names, please,” said he, pleasantly.

      “The corporal of the guard has them, and so has the officer of the day,” answered Don.

      “And I must have them, too,” returned the sentry, holding his pencil poised, in the air.

      Don gave the required information in rather a sullen tone, and closed the door of his dormitory behind him with no gentle hand. As soon as Bert had struck a light he drew the pass from his pocket and read as follows:

      “Guards and patrols will pass privates Donald and Hubert Gordon until half-past nine o’clock this evening.”

      Then he looked at his watch and saw that it lacked only a quarter of eleven. Allowing fifteen minutes for their interviews with the corporal and the officer of the day, they had overstayed their time just an hour. Bert was very penitent, but Don was inclined to be rebellious.

      CHAPTER V

      DON AND BERT HAVE VISITORS

      “I wonder if a fellow can make a move in any direction without breaking some of the numerous rules of this school and being reported for it,” said Don, throwing his overcoat and cap spitefully down upon the bed. “I declare, Bert – ”

      Just then the door opened and the sentry thrust his head into the room. “Put out that light, Plebe,” said he. “Two reports in one night make a tolerably bad showing, the first thing you know.”

      “Catch hold of that gas-fixture and jerk it out of the wall,” exclaimed Don, as Bert hastened to obey the sentry’s order. “That makes twice it has got us into trouble.”

      “Oh, I wouldn’t do that,” said the sentry, with a laugh. “You had better read the rules and regulations until you have them firmly fixed in your mind, and then, if you see fit to obey them to the very letter, you will have plain sailing.”

      Don undressed in the dark and tumbled into bed, telling himself the while that he didn’t care a snap of his finger for the rules and regulations. He had not purposely violated any of them, and yet he had been severely reprimanded, and was yet to be punished as though he had been willfully disobedient.

      “When the leopard can change his spots and the Ethiopian his skin, I shall believe that there is some hope for me,” said Don to himself, as he arranged his pillow and prepared to go to sleep. “But there doesn’t seem to be much now, for the harder I try to be good the more rows I get into. I would give something to know how Tom Fisher and his crowd came out, and whether or not Sam succeeded in getting back to his attic without being seen by the guards.”

      Bert arose the next morning, after an almost sleepless night, full of apprehension and trembling for fear of the punishment that was to be visited upon him, while Don’s face wore a defiant expression. He had slept the sleep of the healthy, and awoke refreshed and fully prepared to meet anything that might be in store for him. Greatly to his surprise and Bert’s, nothing was said to them regarding what had taken place the night before. They found opportunity to exchange a few words with Sam Arkwright, who gleefully informed them that everything was all right, and that no one was the wiser for the assault that had been made upon him by the third-class boys, and caught a momentary glimpse of Fisher and Duncan, both of whom smiled and saluted in the most courteous manner. Don did not know what this meant, but it was not long before he found out.

      That afternoon all the members of the fourth class were ordered to the drill-room, where they found a quartermaster-sergeant, the captain of their company, and one of the teachers, who served out to them their new uniforms, which they were told to put on at once. When ranks were broken, Don and Bert hastened to their dormitory, and had just completed the work of exchanging their citizen’s clothes for their natty suits of cadet gray, when there came a knock at the door. Bert’s heart seemed to stop beating.

      “That must be the orderly,” said he, in an excited whisper.“ If it is, we shall soon know what is going to become of us.”

      “Well, we might as well know one time as another,” said Don, doggedly. “I hope it is the orderly, for I have been kept in suspense long enough.”

      Bert opened the door, when who should appear on the threshold but Tom Fisher and Clarence Duncan. The former extended his hand to Bert, who took it after a little hesitation, while Clarence entered the room and greeted Don in the same friendly way.

      “Gordon,” said Clarence, as Don’s sinewy fingers closed about his own, “you’re a brick. We came here to tell you and your brother that we and the rest of the fellows are sorry for what happened last night, and that we want to be friends with you.”

      “Nothing would suit me better,” answered Don.

      “We have had time to consider the matter,” said Fisher, seating himself on Bert’s bed and depositing his cap on the table, “and we are all very glad that you didn’t let us duck that Plebe. It would have been a mean piece of business to haze