daily poured into the fort. Fred Pemberton did not wish to see his nearest
friends; but after he had been in the company some ten days, just as the
boys had been dismissed from the forenoon drill, he discovered at a
distance the patriarchal form of his father.

"My pipe's out, Tom," said Fred, as he rushed into the casemate where a
group of his companions were resting from the fatigues of the morning.

"What's the matter now, Fred?"

"The old man has just come into the fort."

"Has he?"

"Yes--what shall I do?"

"Keep a stiff upper lip, Fred, and we will put you through all right,"
said Sergeant Porter.

"What shall I do?" demanded Fred, who, whatever his views in regard to the
justice or injustice of coercion, did not wish to be taken from the
company.

"Come with me," said the sergeant, as he led the way into an adjoining
casemate. "No; nobody else will come," added he, motioning back other
members of the mess who was disposed to follow.

In the casemate to which Sergeant Porter conducted Fred, there was a pile
of boxes, in which the muskets of one of the regiments had been packed.
The fugitive from his father's anxious search was directed to get into one