lines in a jiffy. An enterprise better suited to the
disposition of my companions could not have been proposed.

In a short time we had one of the smaller cannon over on its back and
were busy scraping the green rust from the touch-hole. The mould had
spiked the gun so effectually, that for a while we fancied we should
have to give up our attempt to resuscitate the old soger.

"A long gimlet would clear it out," said Charley Marden, "if we only had
one."

I looked to see if Sailor Ben's flag was flying at the cabin door, for
he always took in the colors when he went off fishing.

"When you want to know if the Admiral's aboard, jest cast an eye to the
buntin', my hearties," says Sailor Ben.

Sometimes in a jocose mood he called himself the Admiral, and I am
sure he deserved to be one. The Admiral's flag was flying, and I soon
procured a gimlet from his carefully kept tool-chest.

Before long we had the gun in working order. A newspaper lashed to the
end of a lath served as a swab to dust out the bore. Jack Harris blew
through the touch-hole and pronounced all clear.

Seeing our task accomplished so easily, we turned our attention to
the other guns, which lay in all sorts of postures in the rank grass.
Borrowing a rope from Sailor Ben, we managed with immense labor to drag
the heavy pieces into position and place a brick under each muzzle to
give it the proper elevation. When we beheld them all in a row, like a
regular battery, we simultaneously conceived an idea, the magnitude of
which struck us dumb for a moment.

Our first intention was to load and fire a single gun. How feeble and
insignificant was such a plan compared to that which now sent the light
dancing into our eyes!

"What could we have been thinking of?" cried Jack Harris. "We'll give
'em a broadside, to be sure, if we die for it!"

We turned to with a will, and before nightfall had nearly half the
battery overhauled and ready for service. To keep the artillery dry we
stuffed wads of loose hemp into the muzzles, and fitted wooden pegs to
the touch-holes.

At recess the next noon the Centipedes met in a corner of the
school-yard to talk over the proposed lark. The original projectors,
though they would have liked to keep the thing secret, were obliged
to make a club matter of it, inasmuch as funds were required for
ammunition. There had been no recent drain on the treasury, and the
society could well afford to spend a few dollars in so notable an