ive," said Chief Fred, and each Digger ripped
open one end of his pillow, poured in a little mucilage, and then
basted it up, in accordance with the liberal views boys always
entertain concerning "basting."

At a little after nine o'clock, when the lights had been extinguished,
and a teacher made the nightly rounds, a Camanche scout quietly closed
and bolted the iron doors and relighted the hall lamps. Then, with
hair-starting war-whoops, the savages began dropping down through the
trap-door, which opened from one hall to another in the capacity of
fire-escapes.

The Diggers, peacefully studying in their rooms, were summarily ordered
into the hall to battle. Every man protested, but the Camanches refused
to parley. Then, seizing their weapons, the assailed marched forth to
the field of carnage.

Thwack! went the blows of the Camanches.

Thwack! the Diggers.

Thwack! the Camanches.

Thwack! the Diggers.

A stir among the Camanches and then a wild affray.

Crack! crack! go the Diggers' bastings. Crack! feathers fly over the
heads and into the eyes of the Camanches, and there many of them stick.
The Camanches realize the disadvantages of unprovoked assault with no
rules of warfare agreed upon beforehand.

Here and there a Camanche drops his arms and flies to the farther end
of the hall, only to fumble unavailingly at the fastenings of the iron
door, while a victorious Digger belabors him with the weapon he has
just cast aside.

All at once there is descried in the dim light of the hall the boots
and never-to-be-mistaken striped pantaloons of Captain Hale swinging
through the trap-door!

Captain Hale is drill-sergeant and professor of gymnastics. He has seen
years of army service, and is thoroughly imbued with the military
spirit. The boys are more afraid of him than of the president and
entire board of trustees,--as afraid as they would be of old Nick,
himself, in boots and striped pantaloons.

In a flash every Digger had disappeared into his own room and locked
the door after him, and the Camanches are left alone, gasping among
their feathers, the captain in their midst.

There is a moment of bewilderment followed by a wild stampede toward
the iron door, but the Captain has cut off the retreat.

"Young gentlemen, you will remain and clear up the hall. Williams, go
to the coal-cellar and bring up the two-bushel basket."

Williams is "nobbiest" of third-story boys, bravest of Camanche
warriors, but Will