.

In the midst of which, and most timely, there came suddenly a sharp tap
at one of the windows. They paused and turned quickly in that direction.
James Ellison sprang to the window and peered out.

"Nothing there," he said; "one of those big beetles, I guess, attracted
by the light."

They fell to eating again, when presently another smart rap at the
window startled them.

John Ellison laughed. "It's some of fat old Benny's nonsense," he said.
"He wouldn't come in, because you city chaps were coming. He's rigged a
tick-tack; I can see the string of it. Wait a minute and I'll just steal
'round the other door and catch him at it. You fellows go on eating, and
don't pay any attention. I'll catch him."

They resumed the feast; and again the sharp rap sounded upon the window
pane, caused by the clicking of a heavy nail--suspended from the window
sash by a pin and string, and yanked by somebody at the end of a longer
string attached--swinging in against the glass.

There came a yell of surprise shortly; and, in a moment, there appeared
John Ellison clutching the culprit by the collar. Which culprit, to
their astonishment, proved to be, not Benny Ellison but Young Joe.

"Here he is," laughed John Ellison, dragging in his prisoner. "What'll
we do with him?"

"Clean him," suggested George Warren, winking at the others. "He's got a
dirty face."

True enough, Young Joe had, in the course of his evening's adventures,
acquired a streak of smut across one cheek.

Roaring at the suggestion, they seized the struggling captive, lifted
him up bodily to the sink, where they held him face upward under a
stream of water, pumped with a vigour. When they had done with him,
Young Joe's face was most assuredly clean.

"Now," said John Ellison, as they set Joe on his feet again, "there's a
towel. Dry up and come and have some honey."

Young Joe, grinning, and with a joyous vision of honey and pumpkin pie
before him, obeyed with alacrity.

"Say," he said, cramming a spoonful of the mess into his mouth, and
gulping it with huge satisfaction, "can Tim come in? He's out there."

"Sure, bring him in," assented John Ellison.

A few shrill whistles from Young Joe brought his companion to the door;
and Tim Reardon was soon likewise equipped with bowl and spoon--but not
before he had got his ducking at the kitchen pump, which he took with
Spartan fortitude.

Honey and milk, pies and fruit soon disappeared rapidly at the renewed
att