Then
came the struggle. Graham and Wilding and their party bore down upon
Paul's defenders, and sought to break their way through them to reach
their intended victim. Of course, no blows were struck. The boys all
knew better than to do that; but pushing, hauling, wrestling, very much
after the fashion of football players in a maul, the one party strove to
seize Paul, who indeed offered no more resistance than an ordinary
football, and the other to prevent his being carried off. For some
minutes the issue was uncertain, although the hoisting party
considerably outnumbered the anti-hoisting party. More than once did
Graham and Wilding force their way into the centre of Paul's defenders,
and almost have him in their grasp, only to be thrust away again by the
faithful trio that stood about him like the three of whom Macaulay's
ringing ballad tells:

"How well Horatius kept the bridge,
In the brave days of old."

Shouting, struggling, swaying to and fro, the contest went on, much to
the amusement of a crowd of spectators, among which the tall,
blue-coated form of a policeman loomed up prominently, although he
deigned not to interfere. At length the weight of superior numbers began
to tell, and despite all their efforts the anti-hoisting party were
borne slowly but surely toward the fence, upon which some of the boys
had already taken their positions, ready to have Paul handed up to them.
The case was looking desperate, and Teter, heated and wearied with his
exertions, had just said, in his deepest tones, to Bert and Frank,
"Come, boys, all together, try it once more," when suddenly a silence
fell upon the noisy mob, and their arms, a moment before locked in tense
struggling, fell limply to their sides; for there, standing between them
and the fence, his keen, dark face lighted with a curious smile, and
holding his hand above his head by way of a shield from the hot sun,
stood Dr. Johnston!

A genuine ghost at midnight could hardly have startled the boys more.
Absorbed in their struggle, they had not seen the doctor until they were
fairly upon him. For aught they knew he had been a spectator of the
proceedings from the outset. What would he think of them? Rod Graham and
Dick Wilding, slaves to a guilty conscience, slunk into the rear of
their party, while Bert, and Frank, and Teter, glad of the unexpected
relief, wiped their brows and arranged their disordered clothing, as
they awaited the doctor's utterance. It soo