"There's nothing worse than four cows and a house dog about our place,"

said Peter; "but what that is I don't know--hush!"

The boys listened with all their ears and elbows, and nearly stared themselves blind looking around to see what was the matter. They had not long to wait, however, for the trampling increased in the wood, a curious, low growling was heard, which presently swelled to a roar, and in a moment more, an immense brindled bull was seen dashing through the locusts, his head down and heels in the air, looking not unlike a great wheel-barrow, bellowing at a prodigious rate, and making straight toward the place where they stood!

"Murder, what _shall_ we do?" cried Louie, turning deadly pale with terror, while the Zouaves, for an instant, appeared perfectly paralyzed.

"Why run! run for your lives!" shouted George, who was the first to recover himself. "Peter, you lead the way; take us the shortest cut to the house, and--oh!"

Not another word did George utter. He was saving his breath for the race. And now, indeed, began a most prodigious "skedaddle;" the boys almost flying on ahead, running nearly abreast, and their terrible enemy close behind, tearing up the ground with his horns, and galloping like an express!

On sped the gallant Zouaves, making off as rapidly from the scene of action as their namesakes from Mana.s.sas, without pausing to remark which way the wind blew, until, at last, they had skirted the grove, and were on the straight road for the house. Here Peter stopped a moment, "Because some of the men will be near here, perhaps," he pantingly said, "and Master Bull will be caught if he ventures after us." Scarcely had he spoken, when the furious animal was once more seen, dashing on faster than ever, and flaming with rage, till he might have exploded a powder mill! Now for a last effort! One determined burst over the smooth road, and they are safe in the house!

Little Louie, who was only nine years old, and the youngest of the party, had grasped hold of Freddy's hand when they first started; and been half pulled along by him so far; but now that safety was close at hand, he suddenly sank to the ground, moaning out, "Oh Fred, you must go on and leave me; I can't run any more. Oh mamma!"

"No, no, Louie! don't do so!" cried Freddy. "Get up, little man! why, you can't think I would leave you, surely?" and, stooping down, the brave little fellow caught Louie up in his arms, and, thus burdened, tried to run on toward the house.

The rest of the boys were now far beyond them; and had just placed their feet upon the doorstone, when a loud shout of "help!" made them turn round; and there was Freddy, with Louie in his arms, staggering up the road, the horns of the bull within a yard of his side!

Like a flash of lightning, Will s.n.a.t.c.hed up a large rake which one of the men had left lying on the gra.s.s, and dashed down the road. There is one minute to spare, just one! but in that minute Will has reached the spot, and launching his weapon, the iron points descend heavily on the animal's head.

The bull, rather aghast at this reception, which did not appear to be at all to his taste, seemed to hesitate a moment whether to charge his adversary or not; then, with a low growl of baffled fury, he slowly turned away, and trotted off toward the wood.

The help had not come a minute too soon; for Freddy, his sensitive organization completely overwrought by the events of the morning and his narrow escape from death, had fallen fainting to the ground; his hands still clenched in the folds of little Louie's jacket. Will instantly raised him, when he saw that all danger was over, and he and some of the others, who had come crowding down the road, very gently and quickly carried the insensible boy to the house, and laid him on the lounge in the library; while Peter ran for the housekeeper to aid in bringing him to life.

Good Mrs. Lockitt hurried up stairs as fast as she could with camphor, ice water, and everything else she could think of good for fainting.

"Mrs. Lockitt, where is papa?" asked Peter, as he ran on beside her.

"Gone to New York, Master Peter," she replied; "I don't think he will be home before dinner time."

Our little scapegrace breathed more freely; at least there were a few hours' safety from detection, and he reentered the library feeling considerably relieved.

There lay Colonel Freddy, his face white as death; one little hand hanging lax and pulseless over the side of the lounge, and the ruffled shirt thrust aside from the broad, snowy chest. Harry stood over him, fanning his forehead; while poor Louie was crouched in a corner, sobbing as though his heart would break, and the others stood looking on as if they did not know what to do with themselves.

Mrs. Lockitt hastened to apply her remedies; and soon a faint color came back to the cheek, and with a long sigh, the great blue eyes opened once more, and the little patient murmured, "Where am I?"

"Oh, then he's not killed, after all!" cried Louie, running to his side.

"Dear, dear Freddy! how glad I am you have come to life again!"

This funny little speech made even Freddy laugh, and then Mrs. Lockitt said, "But, Master Peter, you have not told me yet how it happened that Master Frederic got in such a way."

The eyes of the whole party became round and saucer-y at once; as, all talking together, they began the history of their fearful adventure.

Mrs. Lockitt's wiry false curls would certainly have dropped off with astonishment if they hadn't been sewed fast to her cap, and she fairly wiped her eyes on her spectacle case, which she had taken out of her pocket instead of her handkerchief, as they described Freddy's n.o.ble effort to save his helpless companion without thinking of himself. When the narrative was brought to a close, she could only exclaim, "Well, Master Freddy, you are a little angel, sure enough! and Master William is as brave as a lion. To think of his stopping that great creetur, to be sure! Wherever in the world it came from is the mystery." So saying, Mrs. Lockitt bustled out of the room, and after she had gone, there was a very serious and grateful talk among the elder boys about the escape they had had, and a sincere thankfulness to G.o.d for having preserved their lives.

The puzzle now was, how they were to return to the camp, where poor Tom had been in captivity all this time. It was certainly necessary to get back--but then the bull! While they were yet deliberating on the horns of this dilemma, the library door suddenly opened, and in walked--Mr.

Schermerhorn!

"Why, boys!" he exclaimed, "how do you come to be here? Fred, what's the matter? you look as pale as a ghost!"

There was general silence for a moment; but these boys had been taught by pious parents to speak the truth always, whatever came of it. Ah!

that is the right principle to go on, dear children; TELL THE TRUTH when you have done anything wrong, even if you are sure of being punished when that truth is known.

So George, as the eldest, with one brave look at his comrades, frankly related everything that had happened; beginning at the quarrel with Tom, down to the escape from the bull. To describe the varied expression of his auditor's face between delight and vexation, would require a painter; and when George at last said, "Do you think we deserve to be punished, sir? or have we paid well enough already for our court martial?" Mr. Schermerhorn exclaimed, trying to appear highly incensed, yet scarcely able to help smiling:

"I declare I hardly know! I certainly am terribly angry with you. How dare you treat a young gentleman so on my place? answer me that, you scapegraces! It is pretty plain who is at the bottom of all this--Peter dares not look at me, I perceive. At the same time, I am rather glad that Master Tom has been taught what to expect if he runs down the Union--it will probably save him from turning traitor any more, though you were not the proper persons to pa.s.s sentence on him. As for our plucky little Colonel here--shake hands, Freddy! you have acted like a hero! and for your sake I excuse the court martial. Now, let us see what has become of the bull, and then go to the release of our friend Tom. He must be thoroughly repentant for his misdeeds by this time."

Mr. Schermerhorn accordingly gave orders that the bull should be hunted up and secured, until his master should be discovered; so that the Zouaves might be safe from his attacks hereafter. If any of our readers feel an interest in the fate of this charming animal, they are informed that he was, with great difficulty, hunted into the stables; and before evening taken away by his master, the farmer from whom he had strayed.

Leaving the others to await his capture, let us return to Tom. He had not been ten minutes in the smoke house before his wrath began to cool, and he would have given sixpence for any way of getting out but by begging pardon. That was a little too much just yet, and Tom stamped with rage and shook the door; which resisted his utmost efforts to burst. Then came the sounds without, the rushing, trampling steps, the furious bellow, and the shout, "Run! run for your lives!" Run! why on earth must they? What had happened? and especially what would become of him left alone there, with this unseen enemy perhaps coming at him next.

He hunted in vain in every direction for some cranny to peep through; and if it had been possible, would have squeezed his head up the chimney. He shouted for help, but n.o.body heard him; they were all too frightened for that. He could hear them crunching along the road, presently; another cry, and then all was still.

"What shall I do?" thought poor Tom. "Oh, where have they gone to?

Please let me out, Freddy! do forgive me, boys! I'll f-fight for the Union as m-much as you like! oh! oh!" and at last--must it be confessed?--the gallant Secesh finished by bursting out crying!

Time pa.s.sed on--of course seeming doubly long to the prisoner--and still the boys did not return. Tom cried till he could cry no more; sniffling desperately, and rubbing his nose violently up in the air--a proceeding which did not ameliorate its natural bent in that direction. He really felt thoroughly sorry, and quite ready to beg pardon as soon as the boys should return; particularly as they had forgotten to provide the captive with even the traditional bread and water, and dinner-time was close at hand. While he was yet struggling between repentance and stomachache, the welcome sound of their voices was heard. They came nearer, and then a key was hastily applied to the fastenings of the door, and it flew open, disclosing the Zouaves, with Freddy at the head, and Mr.

Schermerhorn bringing up the rear.

Tom hung back a moment yet; then with a sudden impulse he walked toward Freddy, saying, "I beg your pardon, Colonel; please forgive me for insulting you; and as for the flag"--and without another word, Tom ran toward the flag staff, and catching the long folds of the banner in both hands, pressed them to his lips.

"The chivalry forever!" said Mr. Schermerhorn, smiling. "That's right, Tom! bless the old banner! it is your safeguard, and your countrymen's too, if they would only believe it. Go and shake hands with him, boys; he is in his right place now, and if ever you are tempted to quarrel again, I am sure North and South will both remember

"BULL RUN!"

CHAPTER III.

BEFORE MONTEREY.

IT is not necessary to describe the particular proceedings of the Dashahed Zouaves during every day of their camp life. They chattered, played, drilled, quarrelled a little once in a while, and made it up again, eat and slept considerably, and grew sunburnt to an astonishing degree.

It was Thursday morning, the fourth of their delightful days in camp.

Jerry had been teaching them how to handle a musket and charge bayonets, until they were quite excited, and rather put out that there was no enemy to practise on but the gra.s.shoppers. At length, when they had tried everything that was to be done, Harry exclaimed, "I wish, Jerry, you would tell us a story about the wars! Something real splendid, now; perfectly crammed with Indians and scalps and awful battles and elegant Mexican palaces full of diamonds and gold saucepans and lovely Spanish girls carried off by the hair of their heads!"

This flourishing rigmarole, which Harry delivered regardless of stops, made the boys shout with laughter.

"You'd better tell the story yourself, since you know so much about it!" said Tom.

"I allow you've never been in Mexico, sir," said Jerry, grinning. "I doubt but thar's palisses somewhar in Mexico, but I and my mates hev been thar, an' _we_ never seed none o' 'em. No, Master Harry, I can't tell ye sich stories as that, but I do mind a thing what happened on the field afore Monterey."

The boys, delightedly exclaiming, "A story! a story! hurrah!" drew their camp stools around him; and Jerry, after slowly rubbing his hand round and round over his bristling chin, while he considered what to say first, began his story as follows:

JERRY'S STORY.

"It wor a Sunday night, young genl'men, the 21st of September, and powerful hot. We had been fightin' like mad, wi' not a moment's rest, all day, an' now at last wor under the canwas, they of us as wor left alive, a tryin' to sleep. The skeeters buzzed aroun' wonderful thick, and the groun' aneath our feet wor like red-hot tin plates, wi' the sun burnin' an blisterin' down. At last my mate Bill says, says he, 'Jerry, my mate, hang me ef I can stan' this any longer. Let you an' me get up an' see ef it be cooler out-o'-doors.'