The Scouts, under Durland and Dick Crawford, went to Guernsey on a special car of a regular train. Durland, in making the arrangements for the trip, had told the adjutant-general of the State militia that he wanted to keep his Troop separate from the regular militiamen, as far as possible.

“I’ve got an idea, from a few words I’ve heard dropped,” he told that official, “that some of the boys rather resent the idea of the Boy Scouts being included in the maneuvers. So, for the sake of peace, I think perhaps we’d better keep them as far apart as possible. Then, too, I think it will make for better discipline if we stick close together and have our own camp.”

“I guess you’re right,” said the adjutant-general. “I’ll give you transportation to Guernsey for your Troop on the noon train on Sunday. There’ll be a special car hitched to the train for you. Report to Colonel Henry at Guernsey station, and he’ll assign you to camp quarters. You understand you’ll use a military camp, and not your regular Scout camp. The State will provide tents, bedding and utensils, and you will draw rations for your Troop from the commissary department during the maneuvers.”

“I understand, Colonel,” said Durland. “You know I served in the Spanish war, and I was able to get pretty familiar with conditions.”

“I didn’t know it, no,” said Colonel Roberts, in some surprise. “What command were you with? I didn’t get any further than Tampa myself.”

“I was on General Shafter’s staff in Cuba,” said Durland, quietly.

Colonel Roberts looked at the Scout-Master a bit ruefully.

“You’re a regular,” he said, half-believingly. “Great Scott, you must be a West Pointer!”

“I was,” said Durland, with a laugh. “So I guess you’ll find that my Troop will understand how to behave itself in camp.”

“I surrender!” said the militia colonel, laughing. “If you don’t see anything you want, Captain, just ask me for it. You can have anything I’ve got power to sign orders for. And say be easy on the boys! They’re a bit green, because this active service is something new for most of us. They mean well, but drilling in an armory and actually getting out and getting a taste of field-service conditions are two different things.”

“I think it’s all splendid training,” said Durland, “and if we’d had more of it before the war with Spain there wouldn’t have been so many graves filled by the fever. Why, Colonel, it used to make me sick to go around among the volunteer camps about Siboney and see the conditions there, with men who were brave enough to fight the whole Spanish army just inviting fever and all sorts of disease by the rankest sort of carelessness. Their officers were brave gentleman, but, while they might have been good lawyers and doctors and bankers back home, they had never taken the trouble to read the most elementary books on camp life and sanitation. A day’s hard reading would have taught them enough to save hundreds of lives. We lost more men by disease than the Spaniards were able to kill at El Caney and San Juan. And it was all needless.”

“I’m detached from my regiment for this camp,” said Colonel Roberts, earnestly, “but I’m going to get hold of Major Jones as soon as I get to Guernsey, and ask him to have you inspect the Fourteenth and criticize it. Don’t hesitate, please, Captain! Just pitch in and tell us what’s wrong, and we’ll all be eternally grateful to you. And I wish you’d give me a list of those books you were talking about, will you?”

“Gladly,” said Durland. “All right, Colonel. I’ll have the Troop on hand for that train.”

The Scouts enjoyed the trip mightily. Durland took occasion to impress on them some of the differences between a regular Boy Scout encampment and the strict military camp of which, for the next week, they were to form a part.

“Remember to stick close to your own camp,” he said. “After taps don’t go out of your own company street. There’s no need of it, and I don’t want any visiting around among the other troops. In a place like this camp, boys and men don’t mix very well, and you’d better stick by yourselves. We won’t be there very long, anyway, because we’ll probably be detached from headquarters Monday. The army will break up, too, because this is really only a concentration camp, where the army will be mobilized.”

“When does the war begin?” asked Dick Crawford.

“War is supposed to be declared at noon to-morrow,” said Durland. “It is regarded as inevitable already, however, and General Harkness can begin throwing out his troops as soon as he has them ready, though not a shot can be fired before noon. Neither can a single Red or Blue soldier cross the State line before that time. However, I suspect that the line will be pretty well patrolled before the actual declaration, so as to prevent General Bliss from throwing any considerable force across the line before we are ready to meet it. If he could get between Guernsey and the State capital in any force, the chances are that we’d be beaten before we ever began to fight at all.”

“That wouldn’t do,” said Dick Crawford. “Will we have any fortifications to defend at all, sir?”

“Not unless we’re driven back pretty well toward the capital. Of course there are no real fortifications there, but imaginary lines have been established there. However, if we were forced to take to those the moral victory would be with the Blues, even though they couldn’t actually compel the surrender of the city within the time limit. If I were General Harkness, I think I would try at once to deceive the enemy by presenting a show of strength on his front and carry the war into his own territory by a concealed flanking movement, and if that were properly covered I think we could get between him and his base and cut him off from his supplies.”

“You mean you’d really take the offensive as the best means of defense?”

“That’s been the principle upon which the best generals always have worked, from Hannibal to Kuroki,” said Durland, his eyes lighting up. “Look at the Japanese in their war with Russia. They didn’t wait for the Russians to advance through Manchuria. They crossed the border at once, though nine critics out of every ten who had studied the situation expected them to wait for the Russians to cross the Yalu and make Korea the great theater of the war. Instead of that they advanced themselves, beat a small Russian army at the Yalu, and pressed on. They met the Russians, who were pouring into Manchuria over their great Trans-Siberian railway, and drove them back, from Liao Yiang to Mukden. They’d have kept on, too, if they hadn’t been stopped by peace.”

“Could they have kept on, though? I always had an idea that they needed the peace even more than the Russians did.”

“Well, you may be right. That’s something that no one can tell. They had the confidence of practically unceasing victory from the very beginning of the war. They were safe from invasion, because their fleet absolutely controlled the Yellow Sea after the battle of Tsushima, and there weren’t any more Russian battleships to bother them. They had bottled up the Russian force in Port Arthur, and they were in the position of having everything to gain and very little to lose. Their line of communication was perfectly safe.”

“They must have weakened themselves greatly, though, in that series of battles.”

“Yes, they did. And, of course, there is the record of Russia to be considered. Russia has always been beaten at the start of a war. It has taken months of defeat to stiffen the Russians to a real fight. Napoleon marched to Moscow fairly easily, though he did have some hard fights, like the one at Borodino, on the way. But he had a dreadful time getting back, and that was what destroyed him. After that Leipzic and Waterloo were inevitable. It was the Russians who really won the fight against Napoleon, though it remained for Blucher and Wellington to strike the death blows.”

“Well, after all, what might have happened doesn’t count for so much. It’s what did really happen that stands in history, and the Japanese won. It was by their daring in taking the offensive and striking quickly that they did that, you think?”

“It certainly seems so to me! And look at the Germans in the war with France. Von Moltke decided that the thing to do was to strike at the very heart and soul of France Paris. So he swept on, leaving great, uncaptured fortresses like Metz and Sedan behind him, which was against every rule of war as it was understood then. Of course, Metz and Sedan were both captured, but it was daring strategy on the part of Von Moltke. It was supposed then to be suicidal for an army to pass by a strong fortress, even if it were invested.”

“That was how the Boers made so much trouble for the English, too, wasn’t it?”

“Certainly it was. The English expected the Boers to sit back and wait to be attacked. Instead of that the Boers swept down at once on both sides of the continent, and besieged Kimberly and Ladysmith. That was how they were able to prolong the war. They took the offensive, in spite of being outnumbered, and while they could never have really hoped to win, they put up a wonderful fight.”

“Well, I suppose we’ll know in a day or so what General Harkness plans to do.”

“Hardly! We’re not connected with the staff in any way, and he’ll discuss his plans only with his own staff officers. He has an excellent reputation. He commanded a brigade in the Porto Rico campaign, you know, and did very well, though that campaign was a good deal of a joke. But one reason that it was a joke was that it was so well planned by General Miles and the others under him that there was no use, at any stage of it, in a real resistance on the part of the Spaniards. They were beaten before a shot was fired, and they had sense enough not to waste lives uselessly.”

“Then they weren’t cowardly?”

“No, indeed, and don’t let anyone tell you they were, either. The Spaniards were a brave and determined enemy, but they were so crippled and hampered by orders from home that they were unable to make much of a showing in the field. We’ll learn some time, I’m afraid, that we won that war too easily. Overconfidence is our worst national fault. Just because we never have been beaten, we think we’re invincible. I hope the lesson, when it does come, and if it does come, won’t be too costly.”

The run to Guernsey was not a very long one. The train arrived there at four o’clock in the afternoon, and the Scouts, armed only with their clasp knives, Scout axes and sticks, lined up on the platform in excellent order. Dick Crawford, who ranked as a lieutenant for the encampment, took command, while Durland reported the arrival to Colonel Henry, as he had been ordered to do.

Half a dozen extra sidings had been laid for the occasion by the railroad, and on these long trains, each carrying militia, had been shunted. Clad all in khaki, or, rather, in the substitute adopted by the American army as more serviceable and less easy to distinguish at a distance, a stout cloth of olive drab, thousands of sturdy militiamen were standing at ease, waiting for orders to move. Field guns, too, and horses, for the mounted troops, were being unloaded, and the scene was one of the greatest activity. Hoarse cries filled the air, but there was only the appearance of confusion, since the citizen soldiers understood their work thoroughly, and each man had his part to play in the spectacle.

From one of the trains, too, three great structures with spreading wings had been unloaded, and the eyes of the Boy Scouts turned constantly toward the spot where mechanics were busily engaged in assembling the aeroplanes which were to serve, to some extent, as the eyes of the army.

“Glad to see you, Captain,” Colonel Henry said to Durland when the Scout-Master reported the arrival of his Troop. “I’ll send an orderly with you to show you the location of your camp. Colonel Roberts directed me to give you an isolated location, and I have done so. It’s a little way from drinking water, but I guess you won’t mind that.”

“Not a bit, sir,” said Durland, smilingly.

“Very well, Captain. Report to General Harkness’s tent at eight o’clock, sir, for your instructions. I think you will find that the General has enough work planned to keep your Troop pretty busy to-morrow. We shall all watch your work with a great deal of interest. We’ve been hearing a lot about Durland’s Scouts.”

Durland saluted then, and turned with the orderly to rejoin his Troop.

In two hours the camp was ready. The neat row of tents, making a short but perfectly planned and arranged company street, were all up, bedding was ready, and supper was being cooked from the rations supplied by the commissary department. Durland, with active recollections of commissary supplies, had been inclined to bring along extra supplies for his Troop, but had decided against doing so, though he knew that many of the militia companies had taken the opposite course to his own, and had brought along enough supplies to set an excellent table.

“I want the boys to get a taste of real service,” he told Dick, “and it won’t hurt them a bit to rough it for a week. They get enough to eat, even if there isn’t much variety, and the quality isn’t of the best. The stuff is wholesome, anyhow that’s what counts.”

By the time he returned from headquarters, the Troop was sound asleep, save for the sentries, Tom Binns and Harry French, who challenged him briskly.