The first sergeant looked down on him with pitying eyes. Yesterday he would have despised him and thrust him aside. But to-day the boy was so shrunken, so white and trembling, such a pathetic little figure to undertake to carry a man’s load. “No,” said Barriscale, “you can’t. I’ll carry ’em both, Dick, if you’ll trust me.” He took both rifles, put one over each shoulder, pushed a way through the noisy and wondering crowd, and together the three started up the main street toward the central city. CHAPTER XVII That was a strange group that marched, three abreast, up the main street of Fairweather that Sunday morning of the riot. Sergeant Barriscale, with a rifle on each shoulder; on his right Corporal Manning, hatless, with bandaged head; and on his left, shuffling weakly along, General Chick. “McCormack is going to get some glory out of this day,” said Manning. “He deserves it,” responded Barriscale, sharply. And Chick added: “I ain’t never seen nothin’ to beat it. Wasn’t that great?” Then, again, for a few minutes, they walked on in silence, save as they were met and questioned by curious and excited people hurrying toward the plaza. Sarah Halpert came speeding down the street in her car. When she saw the strange trio she ordered her driver to draw up to the curb. “Tell me all about it, Ben!” she exclaimed. “Did you get hurt, Dick? What’s the matter with you, Chick? Where’s Hal? Is he in command of the company?” “Yes, to everything, Miss Halpert,” replied Ben. “Dick got smashed on the head with a brickbat, Chick isn’t feeling very well, and I’m disgraced. We’re all going back to the armory.” “But Hal? What’s he doing?” “He’s driving the rioters out of town at the point of the bayonet, Miss Halpert. He’s covering himself with glory.” “Splendid!” She half rose in her seat, and clapped her hands together vigorously. Apparently she forgot all about Manning’s wound, and Chick’s illness, and Ben’s disgrace, for she turned quickly to her driver, and ordered him to make haste ahead. “I want to catch up with the company,” she said. “I want to see Hal doing it.” And the next minute she was out of sight. When the three men started on again Manning’s footsteps were a little more uncertain, and Chick dragged himself a little more wearily than before. In the middle of the next block Barriscale became suddenly aware that the boy was missing from his side. He looked back and saw him lying in a heap on the walk. He dropped his rifles and went and bent over him. Chick was white and insensible but he was breathing. “Poor fellow!” said Manning, “the thing’s been too much for him. What’s to be done?” Barriscale did not reply, but, looking up, he caught sight of a passing car. It was empty save for the driver, and he hailed it and commandeered it for his use. When it drew up to the curb he helped to lift Chick into it, and he and Manning got in beside him. [Illustration: HE HELPED TO LIFT CHICK INTO THE CAR]