The military academy was located a little over two miles from Barrington, which was a wealthy and aristocratic place of about three thousand inhabitants.  It was a square stone building, flanked with towers at each corner, and looked something like a little fortress when viewed from a distance.  In the days when military discipline had been enforced, the mail was brought to the academy regularly every morning and evening; but after the presidential election the students became so very restless and impatient that they could not wait for old darkey Sam and his slow-going mule to bring them their letters and papers.  They threw the regulations to the winds, and openly defying courts-martial and every other form of punishment, climbed the fence in plain sight of the sentries and went to town in a body.  At least that was what some of them did; but a few of the more obedient and easy-going ones, like Marcy Gray and his particular friends, asked for a pass when they desired it, and if they didn’t get it they had self-control enough to remain within bounds.

Rodney Gray and the boys who went to Barrington with him on the day we have mentioned saw that there was “something up” the minute they reached town.  Blue “nullification” badges, and red, white, and blue rosettes were seen on every side, and strange banners were waving in the air; those who had no flag-staffs in their yards or on their houses hanging the colors out of their upper windows.  Heretofore the students had sometimes seen men and women walking the streets with small Union flags pinned to their breasts; but there was not one in sight now.

“What’s in the wind?” exclaimed Rodney, after he had taken a glance around and noted these little things.  “And what sort of a flag is that up there on Mr. Riley’s office?”

“It must be the new Confederate banner, that made its appearance for the first time on the 4th,” replied Dick Graham, who was one of the party.

“Hurry up, fellows,” cried Ed Billings, catching the two by the arm and quickening his pace.  “We’re going to hear great news this evening, and I am impatient to know what it will be.  Hold on; now we shall hear all about it.”

Just then a couple of young ladies with whom they were well acquainted came up; the boys lifted their caps to them, and Ed continued, pointing first to the red, white, and blue rosettes with which they were decorated, and then at the new colors that were fluttering over their heads: 

“Anything exciting been going on lately?  And what has become of all the little Union flags we saw yesterday?”

“No doubt they have been concealed to await the time when the Yankees shall come marching through here with fire and sword,” replied one of the girls.

Such talk was common enough in the South in those days, and the people learned it not only from their own leaders, but from secession sympathizers who lived in the North.  Fire and sword were just what Jefferson Davis intended to give the States that did not belong to the Confederacy.  This is what he said in his speech at Montgomery on the evening of February 15: 

“If war must come, it must be on Northern, not on Southern, soil.  A glorious future is before us.  The grass will grow in Northern cities where the pavements have been worn off by the tread of commerce.  We will carry war where it is easy to advance, where food for the sword and torch await our armies in the densely populated cities.”

Ex-President Franklin Pierce of New Hampshire made use of nearly the same language when he wrote to Davis, assuring him that, “If there is any fighting it will be within our own borders and in our own streets.”  Turn to your history if you want to see how these confident predictions were fulfilled.

“Well, if those Yankee flags are not brought to light until the Yankees themselves come marching through this State, you will never see them again,” said Rodney, with emphasis.  “If the Northern people fool with us we will keep them so busy on their own ground that they will never think of coming down here.  But what’s the use of talking about war!  They’ll not fight.  I only wish they would, so that we might show them how easy it would be for us to whip them.  But is that our flag up there?  And what is the meaning of those ribbons?”

“Oh, haven’t you heard?  Well, you’ll know all about it when you get your paper.  The president has been empowered to call for an immense army of our gallant-”

“Bosh!” sneered Rodney; and then he apologized for the interruption and for the expression he had used.

“But we need an army to hold possession of our coast defences, do we not?  All the government property in the Confederacy has been seized, and now that we have got it, we must hold fast to it.”

“Certainly; but we don’t need an army to do that.  Our school battalion, if the boys were only united, could do it and not half try.”

“If they were united?” repeated one of the girls.  “You do not mean to say that there are traitors in that school?”

Rodney replied that was just what he did mean to say.  He declared that the academy was a hotbed of treason, and Cole and Billings confirmed his words.  The girls were surprised to hear it.

“And even the colonel hasn’t the pluck of a cat or a mind of his own,” continued Billings.  “He doesn’t seem to know where he stands.”

“Every one in town wonders why that flag has been permitted to float so long, and now I know,” said one of the girls.  “The colonel is friendly to it; but still, if you young gentlemen had half the courage we have given you credit for, you would have pulled it down long ago.”

Rodney winced.  He did not like to confess that he and his friends had tried their best to haul the flag down, but the Union boys had prevented them from doing it; for he knew the girls would laugh at him.  They might do even worse than that.  They might tell him that he need not trouble himself to call upon them any more (for things had come to that pass already), so he brought forward the best excuse he could think of on the spur of the moment.

“But the colonel will not allow it,” he protested.  “He says it will be time enough to bother with the flag when we find out what the State is going to do.”

“But I don’t see how you can march under those colors when your own gallant Louisiana has followed South Carolina out of the Union.”

“I confess we don’t like it,” said Cole, “but a good soldier always obeys orders, you know.  Wait until the State acts, and then you shall hear from us.”

“I hope to hear from you before that time, although this State is bound to go with the others.  I should be ashamed to acknowledge that I live within her borders if she shows such a want of spirit as to be willing to remain in the Union after all that has happened.  The next time you come to see me, Mr. Cole,” said the young lady sweetly, “I shall expect you to tell me that that flag has been hauled down in spite of all opposition, and that our own Confederate flag has been hoisted in its place.”

“So that’s our flag, is it?” said Rodney, casting a glance of pride toward the Stars and Bars that waved from several buildings within the range of his vision.  “I thought as much.  When did it get here?”

“We received a score or more of them by this day’s mail, and our patriotic citizens lost no time in giving them to the breeze,” was the reply.

“But the trouble is, we haven’t any flag of that sort at the academy,” said Cole.  “So how are we to run it up in place of the Stars and Stripes?”

“My sister and I will see that you have the flag, if you will promise to hoist it,” answered one of the girls.  “We are at work upon one now, and will have it ready for you to-morrow at this hour, provided you can tell us that the old flag has been hauled down.  Tomorrow, mind.  Shall we expect you?”

“I’ll be around,” replied Cole, but he did not talk as glibly as he usually did, for he was thinking about something else.  To-morrow at that hour.  By gracious! that was bringing the thing straight home to a fellow, wasn’t it?  That meant a fight, sure; and the Union boys were not only as brave as boys ever get to be, but their fists were as hard as so many bricks.  Cole knew that by experience.  And if he could not tell her that the old flag had been hauled down, he need not take the trouble to call at her house.  The young lady did not say so, but Cole knew well enough that that was what she meant.

“The commandant is one traitor, but who are the others?” she asked, after a moment’s pause.  “You said in effect that the school is full of them.  The colonel does not often honor us girls with his visits, but the young gentlemen do sometimes, and we should like to know who the traitors are, so that we can be at home or not, as circumstances seem to require.  Give us their names, please.”

Rodney’s companions would have thought twice before complying with this request, but Rodney himself did not see anything surprising in it.  The girls were ardent secessionists, and of course they did not care to associate with those who stood up for the Yankees and for the flag they worshiped.  The cousin whom he had always loved as a brother was beneath contempt now, for he was a traitor to the South, and undeserving of the slightest show of respect from any one who had the least respect for himself.

“Well, there’s that lovely relative of mine for one,” said Rodney promptly.

The girls could hardly believe that they had heard aright.  They looked at each other in silence for a moment, and then they looked at Rodney.

“I didn’t think that Marcy Gray was such a coward,” said one, at length.

“Oh, you are ’way off the track!” exclaimed Dick Graham, who, although he afterward went into the Confederate Army and became a partisan ranger, never forgot the warm friendship he cherished for Marcy Gray.  “That fellow is nobody’s coward, and you wouldn’t think so if you could have seen him when-”

“Look here, Dick,” interrupted Rodney, who was afraid that Marcy’s friend was about to say something compromising.  “It is very easy for a fellow to say that he is for the Union when he is so far away from the North that he can not, by any possible chance, be called upon to fight for the opinions he pretends to hold, but has Marcy the courage to show by his acts that he is sincere in what he says?”

“Well, yes; I think he has,” answered Dick.  “When you fellows had that fight over the flag-”

“That isn’t what I mean,” exclaimed Rodney, impatiently.

“What was it, Mr. Graham?” asked one of the girls, who rather wanted to see Marcy Gray’s courage vindicated, if there were any way in which it could be done.  “What did he do?  Did you really have a fight at the academy over the flag?  Go on, please, and tell us all about it.”

Rodney tried to speak, but Dick was not to be put down.  He knew that Rodney was determined to say something to his cousin’s injury if he could, and Dick Graham was not the boy to stand by and see it done without raising his voice in protest.

“Yes; some of the boys tried their level best to get the flag,” said Dick, “but its defenders were much too numerous and strong for them.  During the struggle there were some middling heavy blows passed, and, if I mistake not, Rodney came in for a few that he’ll not soon forget.”

Rodney tried to laugh it off as a joke, but it was easy to see that he was about as mad as he could hold.

“Now go on and describe the part you took in that fracas,” said he, as soon as he could speak.

“Who?  Me?  I didn’t take any part in it.  I don’t fight.  I’m neutral.  You see Missouri hasn’t gone out of the Union yet, and I don’t intend to make a move until she does.  See?  I was not saying a word for myself, but for Marcy, who isn’t here to take his own part.”

“What I want to get at is this,” continued Rodney.  “If Marcy is so devoted to the Union, why does he stay here, flinging his obnoxious doctrines in our faces every chance he gets?  Why doesn’t he go North and join the Yankees?”

“He doesn’t fling his doctrines in our faces,” Dick interposed.  “He stands up for them when he thinks it necessary, and so would I if I believed as he does.”

“I admire him for that,” said one of the girls.

“Oh, do you?” exclaimed Rodney, who was sure of his ground now.  “Will you continue to admire him when I tell you that he hoped the Yankees would send a fleet into Charleston harbor that would blow South Carolina out of water?”

No, the girls could not admire Marcy Gray or anybody else who talked that way.  If that was his doctrine, he had better quit the South and go among those who believed as he did.

“I was sure you would say so; and that was the point I was trying to reach,” continued Rodney.  “That was what I meant when I asked if he had the courage to back up his opinions.”

“I am sorry to hear that of Marcy,” said one of the girls, and her face showed that she meant every word of it.  “He is such a splendid horseman and looks so handsome riding with his battery!  And to think that he sympathizes with our oppressors!  I can’t realize it.  I must have a serious talk with him, for unless he comes over to our side, he will be liable to arrest if he stays here much longer.”

“It’s a wonder to me that he hasn’t seen trouble of some sort before this time,” observed Billings.  “He doesn’t haul in his shingle one inch, but blurts out his views wherever he happens to be, and the first thing he knows somebody will pop him over.”

“I shouldn’t like to be the one to try it,” Dick Graham remarked.  “Marcy will not take a whipping quietly.”

“I didn’t mean that he would get into trouble here in Barrington, although I am afraid he will, but with the government,” said the girl.  “One other thing our Congress did was to pass a law requiring all those who sympathize with the North to leave the limits of the Confederacy within ten days.”

“But don’t you know that this State hasn’t joined the Confederacy yet?” asked the practical Dick.

“If I should forget it, you would be very likely to remind me of the fact,” was the reply; “but she will join it before many days have passed, and then where will Marcy be?”

“That’s the best news I have heard in a month,” declared Rodney, speaking before he thought.  Then, seeing that his companions looked surprised, he hastened to add:  “I say it is good news, for when Marcy hears of it he will understand that he must quit his nonsense and come out boldly for one side or the other.  If he is with us, all he has to do is to say so; and if he isn’t, he’ll have to pack up and clear out.”

“Oh, we hope he’ll not do that,” said both the girls in a breath.  “Tell him to come and see us, and we will turn him from the error of his ways.  Here we are at our gate.  Thanks for your escort.”

“Why don’t you ask us to come in?” inquired Cole.

“Because we have given you something to do first.  Pull down that flag and run the banner of the Confederacy up in its place, and then you may come as often as you please.”

“Well, shall I tell Marcy to keep his distance until he has made up his mind to hoist the right sort of colors?” said Rodney.

“By no means.  We must have a talk with him, and if we fail to win him over, we shall know how to punish him.”

“That was rather a snub for you, old fellow,” said Billings, as the boys raised their caps to the girls and once more turned toward the post-office.  “They are sweet on Marcy, and don’t mean to throw him over just because you have taken a sudden dislike to him.”

“It was a snub for Cole as well,” replied Rodney, hotly.  “He will never see the inside of Mr. Taylor’s house again, for those girls have imposed upon him a task that is quite beyond his powers.  Couldn’t you get along without wagging your jaw so freely?” he demanded, turning fiercely upon Dick Graham.  “For two cents you and I would mix up right here in the street.”

“Why, what in the world did I say?” asked Dick, in reply.

“You disgraced the school by telling those girls, almost as plainly as you could speak it, that we Southerners are in the minority there.”

“If she got that impression, she got a wrong one,” said Dick quietly.  “I said that the defenders of the flag were too many and too strong for you fellows who tried to haul it down, and that’s the truth.  I stood up for Marcy because I am his friend, and you ought to be.”

“I am a friend to no boy, cousin or no cousin, who talks as he does,” said Rodney spitefully.  “I despise a traitor, and the fellow who sticks up for him-”

Dick stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, rested his clenched hands upon his hips, and waited for Rodney to finish the sentence.  For a second or so it looked as though the two boys were going to “mix up” directly; but Cole and Billings interposed.

“This will never do,” said the latter.  “If you are determined to have a fight, hurry and get your mail, and then we’ll go back to the academy and fight the Yankees and their sympathizers.  That’s what we’ve got to do tomorrow, if we run that new flag up on the tower, and we might as well get our hands in first as last.  Cole, you go on with Dick, and Rodney and I will follow.”

Dick laughingly declared that as he was not spoiling for a fight he could get on very well without an escort, but still he did not raise any objection when Cole took him by the arm and led him away.  Rodney slowly followed, with Billings for a companion, the latter using his best arguments to make the stubborn Rodney see that he could not hope to gain anything by showing so much hostility toward his cousin, who was popular both at the academy and in the town, and that the Taylor girls, from whom they had just parted, didn’t think any the more of him for what he had said.  Rodney saw that plainly, and it was another thing that made him angry; but he was careful not to let Billings know it.  He took no little pride in his horsemanship, and was confident that he made a very fine looking sergeant of artillery; but none of the girls had ever told him so, and he couldn’t bear to hear Marcy praised either.  He was envious, as well as jealous, and when Rodney got that way, he was in the right humor to do something desperate.

“That new law will fix him and Graham, too,” he said to himself.  “I’ll take pains to call their attention to it the minute I get back to the academy, and if they don’t take the hint and make themselves scarce about here, I will set somebody on their track.  There are a good many traitors in and around Barrington, and I wonder that they haven’t been driven out before this time.  I’ll rid the school of those two, I bet you; but before they go I’ll pick a quarrel with them and whip them out of their boots.”

This confident assertion recalls to mind something that was said by the Confederate General Rosser on the morning of the 9th of October, 1864, just previous to the beginning of the fight known in history as “Woodstock Races.”  Having formed his line of battle, Rosser sat on his horse watching the movements of his old schoolmate, General Custer, who was busy getting his own forces in shape to attack him.  Finally Rosser turned to his staff and said: 

“You see that officer down there?  That is General Custer, of whom the Yanks are so proud, and I intend to give him the best whipping to-day he ever got; see if I don’t.”

When Custer was ready to fight he made his charge; the valiant Rosser fled before it, and never but once stopped running until he reached Mount Jackson, twenty-six miles away.  It was a trial of speed, rather than a battle, and that is the reason the engagement is called “Woodstock Races.”  The Confederates lost everything they had that was carried on wheels, and the Union loss was but sixty killed and wounded.  Rodney Gray was not as much of a braggart as Rosser was, but if he had tried to carry his threat into execution he might have been as badly whipped.