Private Hinkey was not one of these men. He did not even want to go, for he had worked like a beaver, and was thoroughly tired out. It had seemed, since reaching the grounds, as though Hinkey had been determined to show how good and industrious a soldier he could be.

"That man is working to reinstate himself in the good conduct grade,"

remarked Lieutenant Hampton, calling Hinkey's tireless industry to Captain Cortland's attention.

"Then he'll have all the chance he wants," replied the captain. "We don't want to keep any man down, or to give him a dog's name--with apologies to the dog."

As Hinkey had been in a service detachment under Overton's command Hal felt it but just to say to the fellow:

"Hinkey, you've worked harder and more attentively than any man in this detachment."

"Thank you, Sergeant; I've tried to," replied the fellow, with such well-pretended respect that Sergeant Hal almost fell over.

"I almost think I've misjudged the man in thinking him one of our worst," Overton told himself.

It had been well for the boyish young sergeant had he been but a trifle more suspicious of such sudden reform on his enemy's part!

At five in the morning, or almost an hour earlier than usual, every officer and man in this temporary camp was routed out from under his blankets by the sharp, stirring notes of first call to reveille.

Breakfast was hurriedly disposed of, and the simple duties of ordinary "camp police" performed by the time that it was fully light.

And now more labor, for the stage settings must be arranged, that they might all be moved swiftly into place as the need came.

It was noon when the men finished. Then mess call, or "come and get it,"

as the soldiers facetiously term it, was sounded over the camp, and officer and man alike hastened to the well-earned midday meal.

"We ought to have a huge crowd," spoke Corporal Noll Terry, at camp table.

"We ought to, but we won't," predicted Sergeant Hupner.

"Why not, Sergeant?"

"You didn't take a pa.s.s to go to town, last night?"

"No."

"I did."

"Well, Sergeant?"

"The town is billed from one end to another with posters of the show,"

continued Hupner.

"Meaning our tournament?"

"No, Terry. Of course, our show is billed, too, but the show I'm alluding to is Howe and Spangleton's Great Combined Circuses."

"Are they showing in Denver to-day?" asked Sergeant Overton.

"Yes, siree," replied Hupner, with emphasis. "And you know what these western towns are when a truly big circus works this far west. The circus will be selling standing-room at double prices, and this show of ours will be performed to two or three hundred small kids whose hearts are broken because they didn't have the price of a circus ticket."

"We ought to have had some other date in the week, then," spoke up another man at table.

"Oh," grimaced Hupner, "the War Department thinks a whole lot of its regulars, of course, so I don't suppose any one over at Washington could picture the troops being called upon to show their best work to empty benches that would hold twenty thousand spectators."

That same news, and that same impression had reached the artillery, the cavalry, the ordnance detachment, the engineers and the men of the Signal Corps. The officers, likewise, shook their heads. All were greatly disappointed to think that the Army had to compete with the sawdust, the tinsel, the gay music and the dash and whoop-la of the circus.

Yet one man in this Regular Army encampment felt wholly satisfied with himself.

That man was Private Hinkey.

He knew the programme of the tournament, and the secret of this sullen wretch's great industry was known at least to himself.

"I've got it all fixed to rid the regiment of that kid sergeant," the brute in uniform exulted to himself. "Exit Kid Overton from the Thirty-fourth!"

CHAPTER XII

HAL RIDES INTO TREACHERY

AT one-thirty the gates of the ball grounds were thrown open.

A long programme lay before the a.s.sembled regulars, so the tournament was to begin at two o'clock.

The same performance was to be repeated in the evening, under brilliant electric lighting.

As they left the camp tables, however, the men moved about rather dejectedly.

The unexpected compet.i.tion with the big circus had spoiled their hopes of winning round after round of delighted applause from huge crowds.

Yet barely were the gates to the grounds open when the soldiers began to take notice.

In an instant after opening there was a big rush at the gates. Men and women, boys and girls, crowded and jostled to get into the grounds.

"They'll stop coming in two minutes, at this rate," grumbled Sergeant Hupner.

Yet he proved a poor prophet. By quarter of two nearly every one of the more than twenty thousand seats for spectators had been filled. Five minutes after that not a seat could be had, even by squeezing. Just before two o'clock ten thousand more spectators had crowded in, standing wherever they could find the s.p.a.ce.

Outside the crowd still pressed. Thousands simply had to be turned away.

Every officer present now wore a quiet smile that hid his delight under an orderly appearance.

"I wonder if the circus has a crowd like this?" gasped Sergeant Hupner, his astonished gaze roving over the densely packed ma.s.ses of humanity.

An artillery band was playing at its loudest and gayest.

"I wonder," repeated Sergeant Hupner, "if the circus is playing to a crush like this."