While the Pinchbrook boys were generally rejoiced to see their friends from home, there was one in the company who was in constant dread lest he should recognize a too familiar face in the crowds which the steamers 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 of these boxes, from which the sergeant removed the gun rests.  He obeyed; his confederate put on the lid so as to permit him to receive a plentiful supply of air, and other boxes were placed upon that containing the runaway.

Squire Pemberton presented himself before Captain Benson, and demanded his son.  Fred was sent for, but could not be found.  Sergeant Porter kept out of the way, and not another man in the company knew anything about him.  The boys were very willing to assist the indignant father in his search, but all their efforts were unavailing.  The squire examined every casemate, and every nook and corner upon the island, but without effect.

“I want my son, sir,” said the squire, angrily, to the captain.  “I require you to produce him.”

“I don’t know where he is,” replied Captain Benson.

“You have concealed him, sir.”

“I have not.”

The squire appealed to the colonel, but obtained no satisfaction, and was obliged to leave without accomplishing his purpose.  As soon as he had gone, Fred appeared, and the boys laughed for a week over the affair.

CHAPTER XI.

In Washington.

On the 17th of June, the regiment left Port Warren, and after being conveyed by steamer to Boston, marched to Camp Cameron.  Here the “little colonel” displayed his energy and military skill to much greater advantage than when within the narrow confines of the fort.  The men were not only carefully and persistently drilled, but they were educated, as far as the circumstances would permit, for the arduous duties of a campaign.