At every halt in the march the boys bought something to eat or drink. There had been a barrel of cider brought from Mr. Chase's for their especial use, and Fred sold it out to the boys for four cents a glass. This was a piece of extraordinary meanness in him, for his father had intended the cider as a present to the company. The boys did not know this, however, and paid their money in perfect good faith. "Hard stuff," said Willy, draining his mug. "I don't like it much." "Why, it's tip-top," returned Fred. "My father says it's the best he ever saw." Mr. Chase had never said anything of the sort. He had merely ordered his colored servant, Pompey, to put a barrel of cider on the wheelbarrow, and take it to the muster-ground. Whether Pompey and Fred had selected this one for its age I cannot tell, but the boys all declared it was "as hard as a stone wall." Dr. Hilton, who seemed to be everywhere at once, heard them say that, and exclaimed,-- "Then I wouldn't drink any more of it, boys. Hard cider does make anybody dreadful cross. Better let it alone." I fear the boys did not follow this advice, for certain it is that they grew outrageously cross. The trouble began, I believe, with Abram Noonin, who suddenly declared he wouldn't march another step with Jock Winter. As the marching was all done for the day, Abram might as well have kept quiet. "Yes, you shall march with Jock Winter, too," said Captain Willy, exasperated with the throbbing pain in his head--the first he had ever felt in his life. "Pretty doings, if you are going to set up and say, 'I will' and 'I won't!'" While the captain and the private were shooting sharp words back and forth, and Fred was busy drawing cider, Isaac Lovejoy, the rogue of the company, was very busy with his own mischief. "Look here, Fred," said Joshua Potter, going up to the stall with a twinkle in his eye; "they don't ask but three cents a mug, round at the other end of the barrel!" "What do you mean by that?" cried the young cider merchant, looking up just in time to see Isaac Lovejoy marching off with the pitcher he had been filling from a hole in the barrel made with his jack-knife. "Stop thief! Stop thief!" cried Fred. "That's right," said one of the big boys from over the river. "Ike's selling your cider to the men for three cents a glass." Perhaps this was one of Isaac's jokes, and he intended to give back the money; we will hope so. But, be that as it may, Fred was terribly angry; as angry, mind you, as if he was an honest boy himself, and had a perfect right to all the coppers jingling in his own pockets! He ran after Ike, and caught him; and there was a scuffle, in which the pitcher was broken. Mr. Chase came up to inquire into it. "Tut, tut, Isaac!" said he; "aren't you ashamed? You know that cider was a present to the Never-Give-Ups." The boys were astonished, and Fred's face crimsoned with shame. As soon as Mr. Chase had gone away, Willy exclaimed, with a sudden burst of wrath,--