CHAPTER XVI.

THE BATTLE OF THE HORSE SHOE.

Miss Grace Toppleton turned pale when Tom announced that the battle had commenced; but her father only uttered an exclamation of rage and impatience. The yacht was just entering the narrow channel between the Horse Shoe and the Shooter, and our position commanded a full view of the field. The Wimpletonians had landed on the north side of the island, near the middle of which was a ridge. The camp of the Toppletonians was at the head of the little bay between the two arms of the Horse Shoe. Behind it was a gentle slope of ground, which terminated at the ridge, beyond which the descent on the north shore was more abrupt.

On this longer declivity, the two hostile battalions were drawn up in the order of battle. The statement that the conflict had commenced was premature; for, though the two “serried ranks” faced each other, no bones had yet been broken. The field presented the traditional aspect of boy fights when the contestants meet in force; the parties faced each other, and each waited for the other to advance. Though I was not an impartial judge, I could not help seeing that the Wimpletonians had displayed more generalship than the Toppletonians; for, instead of waiting on the steeper descent at the north shore, with the ridge above them, for an attack, they had boldly mounted the hill, and taken possession of the high ground, which gave them an advantage that more than compensated for their inferior numbers.

The Toppletonians had not discovered the movement of the enemy till they appeared upon the ridge, which is another convincing proof that “eternal vigilance is the price of liberty.” If they had kept even half a dozen sentinels in the exposed portions of the island during the night, they could easily have prevented the landing of the Wimpletonians; but probably they had no suspicion of a night movement.

The combatants appeared to be waiting “for something to turn up;” for, while the Grace was running down the channel and coming to anchor, no movement was made by either of them. The array did not at present indicate the bloody encounter I had feared, and had labored to prevent; but it was plain enough that something would result from the situation. They would not be likely to face each other all day without doing some mischief. I could see Waddie Wimpleton, in his chapeau, white plume, and gold lace, promenading up and down his lines; and, though I could not hear him, I knew very well what big things he was saying.

“Well, what’s to be done?” said Major Toppleton, when the Grace had come to anchor.

“If I were you, sir, I would tell our boys to go back into their camp,” I replied.

“What! and let the Wimpleton students have it all their own way! Not if I know myself,” added the major, indignant even at the suggestion. “Our boys have hired the island, and it belongs to them. They shall stay there!”

The major was as crazy as the colonel had been, and as neither was willing to sacrifice anything, I could not see how the fight was to be avoided. Of course none of us had any influence with the invaders, and we could not induce them to retire from the island.

“Can’t you think of any way to get the Wimpleton boys off, Wolf?” asked the major, impatiently; and I saw that my services were not required as a peacemaker, but rather as an active belligerent.

“I don’t see any way now, sir,” I replied; “but I may think of something by and by.”

“By and by! They may kill each other before you make up your mind,” sneered the great man. “I will go on shore.”

I pulled up the boat for him, and rowed him to the landing-place. I walked up the slope with him, in order to obtain a better view of the situation. It had already occurred to me that a diversion in the rear of the Wimpletonians might compel them to retire; but, as I was somewhat fearful that such a step would make them more desperate, and hasten the conflict, I did not deem it prudent to suggest the idea. We were within a few rods of the Toppleton line, when Major Tommy discovered us. Whether he was ashamed of his inaction, or fearful that his father would interfere with the pastime he had laid out, I do not know; but our coming evidently had some influence upon him, for he immediately commenced yelling as though the battle was to be fought with loud words.

“Attention--battalion!” said he, flourishing his sword. “Charge bayonets!”

“Stop a minute, Tommy!” called Major Toppleton, senior.

“Forward--march!” added Major Tommy, regardless of his father’s interference.

“Hold on a minute, Tommy!” repeated his father. “I want to see you.”

“Forward--march!” screamed the little major, desperately. “Now give them fits! Don’t mind a scratch! Drive them before you!”

“Charge bayonets!” cried Major Waddie, on the other side; and it was clear enough that he did not intend to run away.

In vain did Major Toppleton senior attempt to check this forward movement. The Toppletonians dashed gallantly up the hill, rushing upon the enemy with an impetuosity which threatened them with total annihilation. But then the Wimpletonians began to move forward; and I felt my heart rising up into my throat, and my blood growing cold in my veins, as the combatants approached each other. I could almost hear the groans of the wounded, and see the outstretched forms upon the green sod, so real did the scene appear to me.

The two lines met, and I heard the clatter of cold steel as the bayonets struck against each other; but I had not time to form an exact idea of what was going on before I saw the Toppletonians give way in the centre. It was a confused _mêlée_, and I could only see a general punching and hammering with the muskets. When I saw a soldier on either side make a direct thrust with his bayonet, it was warded off with a blow. Indeed, the battle seemed to be fought literally “at the point of the bayonet;” for, so far as I could judge, neither party went near enough to do any damage. Each side seemed to have the requisite discretion to keep out of the reach of the weapons of the other side. I think there were not many in either rank that had the ferocity actually to wound their adversaries with the weapons in their hands.

This was the beginning of the affray, and the contending forces had not yet become desperate; and, though they rushed upon each other with appalling savageness, as seen by the observer, the contest was at a safe distance, neither party permitting the other to come near enough actually to inflict wounds. In fact, it was just such fighting as I had often seen between parties of boys, and consisted in rushing up and falling back. Dangerous as the weapons were, there was really no bloodthirsty spirit on either side.

The Toppletonian centre was broken. Captain Bayard had been pressing things, and the force in front of him, to avoid any actual punching of the bayonets, fell back. Major Waddie strode furiously up and down his line--in the rear of it, of course--yelled, and stormed, and gesticulated. When he saw the centre in front of him give way, he screamed in his fury, and Bayard, who seemed to have some of the spirit of his illustrious namesake, forced his company forward till some of them were actually pricked by the steel of the Toppletonians. But this spurring seemed only to infuriate them; Waddie yelled louder than ever, and Bayard, perceiving his advantage, encouraged his soldiers till the line before them yielded, and were swept backward down the hill.

Captain Pinkerton, on the right, inspired by the success of the centre, and goaded on by the frantic yells and gestures of Major Waddie, crowded his company forward, and the line in front of him, whose equanimity was disturbed by the rupture of the centre, fell back also.

“Three cheers, and drive them!” roared Major Waddie, hoarsely, as his white plume flaunted in the fresh breeze.

Then the Wimpletonians yelled along the whole length of the line, and rushed down the hill, the demoralized Toppletonians fleeing before them. Major Toppleton and myself were obliged to retire in order to avoid the onslaught of the victorious battalion.

[Illustration: THE GREAT BATTLE.--Page 193.]

“The scoundrels!” ejaculated the great man, who appeared to be quite as much disconcerted as his son.

“The Wimps have the best of it,” I replied.

“This is disgraceful!” muttered the major.

I thought so myself; not the defeat, as he understood it, but the battle itself, as I understood it.

Near the camp of the Toppletonians was a belt of trees extending across the island, into which the discomfited battalion retreated. The Wimpletonians followed them closely, and I was afraid the camp and baggage of our boys would be captured by the enemy. In the shadow of the grove, Major Tommy and his two captains rallied the intimidated Toppletonians, and they made a stand under the friendly shelter of the trees, the enemy halting at the verge of the grove. The great man and myself hastened to headquarters, where we found Tommy breathless with rage and excitement at his unexpected defeat. His father taunted him upon his misfortune, which did not help his fiery mood.

“What could I do when the fellows gave way?” stormed he. “They are a pack of cowards, and would run a mile rather than be pricked with the point of a pin.”

“It is easy enough for you to talk, Tommy Toppleton,” snapped private Putnam. “If you went in the front instead of the rear, it would make a difference with you.”

“I was in the place where a commander ought to be,” retorted Tommy, stung by this reproach. “I will give you enough of it before you get through.”

“You needn’t call us cowards while you keep yourself in a safe place,” added Putnam.

“Attention--battalion!” shouted Major Tommy, suddenly.

“What are you going to do now?” asked his father.

“I’m going to drive the Wimps into the lake this time.”

“What’s the use! If you go out of the grove, you will only be driven back,” replied the major, senior.

“Why don’t you make a flank movement?” I suggested.

“What do you mean by that?” asked Tommy, whose attention was arrested by the idea.

“Send one company round to the other side of the Wimps,” I replied.

“If I send half my men away, the Wimps will defeat the rest here.”

“No; half your force can hold this wood. If you can get one company on the high ground, you will have the advantage over them.”

Major Tommy thought favorably of the idea; and I thought it would be safer for both parties to fight the battle by running and manœuvring than for them to make a stand-up conflict on the open field, as they had done. Briscoe was sent with his company to make the flank movement. He double-quicked his command towards the east shore of the island, and began to ascend the slope. Major Waddie promptly “smelt a mice,” and despatched Captain Bayard’s company to watch and check the movements of the flanking force. I went with Briscoe, intent upon using whatever influence I had to keep the parties from coming into actual contact with each other. We reached the summit of the slope by hard running, in advance of Captain Bayard; and here the Toppleton company halted on the highest ground on the island.

“Now you are all right, Briscoe,” said I. “Send half a dozen fellows to demonstrate against their boats, and you will get them out of the way.”

“You do that, Wolf,” replied he. “Go down, and shove them off, and I will do the rest.”

I ran down the slope alone to the landing, where I found Colonel Wimpleton.