The Knights of the White Shield Part 3

"'Cause it's doing nothing, standing up in the corner."

"O what eyes! Yes, you may have it."

Three minutes went.

"Aunty, couldn't I have the broom-handle out in the entry? Some of the boys knew you wouldn't let me, but I said you would. I knew you would let a feller take it," said the ingenious Charlie.

"For pity's sake, Charles Pitt Macomber, what next?"

This was Charlie's real name and used for greater impressiveness.

"That broom-handle is what I fasten the back window with, and if any bugglars get in tonight, I must blame you."

However, Charlie carried his point. In a few minutes he appeared again, and pointed at his shoulder.

"Aunty, see here!"

"Why, Charles Pitt, what have you done to your shoulder?"

Charlie grinned. There, on the left shoulder, was a chalk s.h.i.+eld.

"Teacher, of course, must have time to make our silk s.h.i.+elds, and so we got up these."

Aunt Stanshy's eyes let out some funny, bright sparks.

"O, no, it's only the grand march."

"The grand march!"

"Yes, and see here, aunty. I have only this chalk s.h.i.+eld, and you don't want your boy to go that way. Please let me take that old sword above the sitting-room mantel-piece," pleaded Charlie, with beseeching eyes.

"Grandsir's sword? O that wont do. Why, that sword was at the battles of Quebec and Banker Hill and Waterloo and--"

Constantia! In her loyalty to grandsir's memory, she was unconsciously mentioning places he had never been in! All this array of names only fired Charlie's ardor. At last Aunt Stanshy said, "There, take it! The next thing, I spose, you'll want me."

"We may; but you'd have to dress up in man's clothes, you know."

"Never!" said Aunt Stanshy, firmly. "Don't go out of the lane with grandsir's sword!"

"We'll be along soon."

"How will I know it? I may be up stairs."

"We will give three cheers under the window."

There was an increasing commotion in the barn chamber.

"Now, fellers!" exclaimed Sid Waters. "You won't be ready for the grand march."

"Yes, yes, yes," they shouted back.

"Is the chariot ready for the president?" inquired Sid.

"Yes," said Charlie, who purposed to furnish his go-cart for the occasion.

"It's down in the yard."

"I have the first ride, you know."

"And I the second," said the governor.

"Yes, but the governor must go behind while the president rides."

Rick's heart sank within him, but all had promised to obey orders and there was no appeal.

"Every feller's--I mean knight's--uniform ready?" asked the president.

Charlie's certainly was. Every moment he could spare out of school that day, he had been sewing in his snug little bedroom. Such st.i.tches! They looked like pairs of bars trying to straddle a brush fence. For epaulets he arranged pieces of black cloth, the center of each being brightened with a strip of red. His belt was made of white flannel dotted with a flaming row of red stars, and with these were interspersed various sizes of mild chocolate suns. Each of the other warriors sported a chalk s.h.i.+eld, as did Charlie. This was the only thing in common. Other insignia varied in character, color, and size, as much as would those of Chinese, Anglo-Saxon and Zulu troops. Pip Peckham, in his anxiety for distinction, had chalked a s.h.i.+eld on each shoulder! The cheapness of the material used would readily permit this, but Pip's appearance was insignificant beside Charlie's, who strode forward to the march, flouris.h.i.+ng grandsir's sword.

Not even Alexander, Julius Caesar, Napoleon, or General Grant, ever had a sword to be compared with Charlie's that day. The warriors moved out from their "armory" into the yard. Aunt Stanshy was up stairs making a bed.

Suddenly under her window, arose a wild, semi-civilized, semi-barbarous shout.

"What is to pay?" she screamed. "O those little b.o.o.bies!" and she sprang to the window. The "Grand March" had been inaugurated with full pomp. Sid Waters, as president, was sitting in the go-cart, his head ornamented with a huge smothering three-cornered hat, made out of a New York daily. Rick Grimes, as governor, was walking behind the go-cart, now and then giving the "chariot" an obsequious push, but impatiently awaiting his turn for a ride. Billy Grimes and Pip Peckham were serving as horses, and soldiers also, pulling along the president and sharing the broom-handle between them. Whether that handle might be a "musket" or a "spear," no one could say. Charlie served as a body-guard, now looking at Aunt Stanshy's window and then glancing in pride at grandsir's sword. Juggie was a color-bearer, and at the same time a color-guard of one appeared in the shape of Tony, flouris.h.i.+ng Aunt Stanshy's clothes-stick. The colors were a very small American flag on a very long bean-pole. Twenty feet ahead of the whole procession, in solitary glory, walked Wort. He was a kind of "chief marshal," Sid had said, but Wort could not forget that he had also been made "keeper of the great seal" that very day, and in token of it he took along the borrowed curtain-stick.

"Halt!"

This summons came not from the chief marshal but the president, and was promptly obeyed by all. Wort retreated from his advanced position and a.s.sumed command. "The grand review will now begin," he shouted. "The whole of you may get into line. Now forward! For--_ward_!"

"Say wheel, first!" called out Sid, not intending Aunt Stanshy or any other spectator should hear the advice be thought it necessary to give the chief marshal.

"Wheel first!" shouted Wort, but the only "wheel" that started was one on the go-cart, which concluded to leave its axle, much to the disgust of the president and the confusion of the company. Sid sprang from the cart.

"Here, let me do it, Wort."

"Form in line!" Wort shouted majestically.

"Form in line!" Sid was whispering to several old veterans. "Where's Juggie?"

"Here, cap'n."

"Keep your bugle handy and sound it when Wort says, 'Charge!'"

Juggie proudly brandished a fish-horn which he had borrowed of Simes Badger.

"Shoulder arms!" screamed Wort.

"Ground arms!"

"Ow, my teeth!" squeaked Pip, whose foot had been vigorously rammed by Billy Grimes.

"Order arms! Present arms! March! Charge!"

These directions followed one another so rapidly that only the oldest veterans, and they wildly, could attempt obedience.