CHAPTER XXI
CROOKED NOSE AGAIN
“Forward--march!”
Snappily the command rolled out and it set in motion hundreds ofkhaki-clad figures, each one with a rifle and a pack on his back.
The hike, or practice march, from Camp Dixton had started. After daysof preparation, the laying out of a route, and the sending forward ofsupplies to meet the small army of men at different places along theway, the start had been made.
Ned, Bob and Jerry recalled the rather direful prediction of thesoldier who had told them a marcher was only as good as his feet, butthey were not worried.
“I guess we can keep up as long as the next one,” Jerry had said.
“We’ve just got to!” declared Ned. “We can’t be shirkers.”
“I only hope I don’t get hungry,” said Bob, with rather a woebegoneface. “I’m going to put some cakes of chocolate in my pocket, so I canhave something to nibble on.”
“Don’t,” advised the same soldier who had spoken about their feet.“Don’t eat sweet stuff until just before you can stop to take a drink.Candy will make you thirsty, and the worst thing you can do is to takea drink on the march. Wait until you stop. I’ve tried it, and I know.”
And so the march had started. The route was in a big circle about thecamp as a center, and would take about five days. The men were to sleepin dog tents, camping at certain designated points, and eating therations they carried with them and the food that would be brought tothem by supply trains that accompanied the army. It was to be as muchlike a hike through a hostile land as it was possible to make it.
In order to make the illusion complete--that of having the youngsoldiers imagine they were at actual warfare--the same sort of marchingwas to prevail as would have prevailed had the men from Camp Dixtonbeen on their way to take their place in the front line trenches,bordering on No Man’s Land, or as if they were hastening to the reliefof a sorely-tried division.
To that end it was ordered that the day’s march should be broken upinto periods. That is, the soldiers would march at the regulation speedfor a certain number of miles, a distance depending, to a certaindegree, on the nature of the land and whether or not it was uphill ordownhill. At the end of the distance a halt would be called, and themen would be allowed ten minutes’, or perhaps a half hour’s, rest.They were told not to take off their packs during this period, as itwould be hard to get them adjusted to their backs again, but they wereinstructed to ease themselves as much as possible, by resting theweight of their packs on some convenient rock, log or hummock.
And so down the road went Ned, Bob and Jerry, in the midst of theirchums of the army--boys and men with whom they had formed, for the mostpart, desirable acquaintances.
“This is one fine day,” remarked Jerry, as he and his friends trudgedalong together.
“Couldn’t be better,” agreed Ned. “How about it, Chunky?”
“Oh, it’s all right, I guess,” was the answer.
“Chunky is worrying so much about whether or not he will have enough toeat that he doesn’t know whether the sun is shining or whether it’s arainy day,” laughed a friend on the other side of the stout lad.
“Well, I like my meals,” said the stout one, and there was morelaughter.
On and on marched the young soldiers. Their officers watched themclosely, not only to gain a knowledge of the characteristics of themen, but to note any who might be in distress, and also for signs ofstragglers who might purposely delay the march from a spirit of sheerlaziness. The younger officers were given points on the method ofmarching and the care of their men by those who had been through theordeal before. It was a sort of school for all concerned.
The day was hot, and the roads were dusty, and to trudge along underthose circumstances with seventy pounds, more or less, strapped toone’s back was difficult and trying work. But there was very littlegrumbling. Each man knew he had to do his bit, and, after all, therewas a reason for everything, and a deep spirit of patriotism hadpossession of all.
Now and then some one started a song, and the chorus was taken upby all who could hear the air. This singing was encouraged by theofficers, for there is nothing that makes for better spirit than astrain of music or a song on the march.
They passed through a farming country, and on all sides were evidencesof the work of the farmers. The injunction from Washington to raise allpossible seemed to have been taken to heart by the agriculturists.
Among the volunteers were many boys from cities, who had never seenmuch of country life, and some of their remarks were amusing, as theynoted what was being done on the farms.
During one of the halts, when Ned, Bob and Jerry, with some of theirchums, were resting beside the road near a farmhouse, Jerry saw asomewhat lively scene being enacted near the red barn which was part ofthe farm outfit. Pug Kennedy and one or two of his cronies were chasingsome chickens.
As Jerry watched, he saw Pug knock a chicken down with the butt of hisrifle, and then seize the stunned fowl, and slip it inside his shirt,which was big and baggy. Just as the scrapper did this a man came outof the barn and began to remonstrate with the soldiers, of whom Pugwas one. But the Cresville friends noted that Pug walked away and cametoward them. The bulge in his shirt, made where he had hidden thechicken, was plain to be seen.
The man who had come out of the barn was evidently accusing thesoldiers to whom he was talking of having taken his chicken. Theydenied it, and offered to be searched. They could easily afford to dothis.
The farmer, getting little satisfaction, came back to appeal to thecompany commander, who heard his story--one to the effect that achicken had been stolen.
As looting was strictly forbidden, and as orders had been given tomake good any loss met by civilians on account of the soldiers, it wasnecessary to conduct an inquiry.
The captain started to question his men, but he had not proceeded farwhen he came to Pug.
“Did you take his chicken?” the scrapper was asked.
“Naw! What would I want of a raw chicken?” was the answer.
Just then Jerry gave a loud sneeze, ending with an exclamation of“Ker-choo!” which sounded a bit like a rooster’s crow.
There was a laugh at this, but Jerry had not done it intentionally, andthe officer seemed to know that. But Jerry had been standing near PugKennedy when this happened, and the sneeze must have brought the hiddenchicken to its senses. It suddenly began to struggle inside Pug’sshirt, and cackled. Perhaps it thought it heard the call of a comradefowl in Jerry’s sneeze.
“Ah, I think we have what we want,” said the officer. “Kennedy, bringthe chicken here!”
“I haven’t any----”
Again the hen cackled and stirred within the bully’s shirt. Theevidence was conclusive. There was a laugh, and with an air of havingbeen caught in a petty trick Pug took out the fowl, not much the worsefor its experience, and handed it to the farmer.
“If we weren’t on a hike, I’d send you to the guardhouse for that,”said the officer sternly. “You know what the orders are against thissort of business. I’ll take up your case when we get back to camp.Fall in!”
Kennedy muttered something, and shot a look of anger at Jerry.
“That was your fault,” he said.
“My fault?”
“Yes, you sneezed on purpose like a rooster, and you woke up the hen!”
“Oh, come off! I sneezed by accident.”
“I don’t believe you!” said Pug. “I’ll get square all right!”
This seemed his favorite threat.
Jerry laughed. It seemed too far-fetched to be worth noticing, but hewas later to remember the promise of the bully.
The farmer, his chicken restored to him, was satisfied, and the marchwas taken up again. Nothing of moment occurred the rest of that day,and at night a halt was made, and the dog tents put up in the fieldsand woods near the road. Each man carried half a tent, and by combiningthe two halves shelter for the largest part of a man’s body w
assecured. It was not as comfortable sleeping as in the barracks, but thenight was warm and the boys were full of enthusiasm, which made up fora lot.
They were gaining valuable experience, and, aside from minor troubles,every one was satisfied.
It was late the next afternoon, and considerable ground had beencovered, when something happened that had to do with Jerry, Ned andBob. They, as well as every one else, were thinking of the comingnight’s rest and a meal, when the order was given to rest, it being thelast of those occasions for the day, preparatory to going into camp forthe night.
As Ned, Bob and Jerry were taking what comfort they could beside theroad, the stout youth looked up as a wagon passed. In it was a man,seemingly a farmer, and though he drove by quickly Bob exclaimed:
“There he is!”
“Who?” asked Jerry lazily.
“Crooked Nose!” answered Bob, greatly excited. “He’s the man we saw inCresville the night of the fire when the Frenchman was robbed! Look,there he is!” and he pointed to the retreating wagon, which turned offdown a side road.
The Motor Boys in the Army; or, Ned, Bob and Jerry as Volunteers Page 21