successfully, and both sides would sometimes give additional
flavor to their epithets by means of missiles, even as mothers sometimes
season their injunctions to boys with a twig from the old apple-tree in
the yard. The club had had no hand in these intestine feuds, but
sympathized with the warriors in their neighborhood, the up-townies. There
had been war recently between the two hostile sections, so that the boys
did not venture far from their homes, and what did our valiant column now
run into but a band of six belligerent down-townies! The club, at Sid's
suggestion, had already passed a vote to give no quarter to down-townies,
and that in case of trouble it should be "war to the last drop!" They
prudently did not say what that drop might be, blood or only perspiration.
Here was a grand test-hour close at hand. One of the down-townies raised a
provoking cry, "Ho, fellers; see those little ragamuffins!"

He pointed toward the column, whose advance Juggie was enthusiastically
stimulating by loud and prolonged blasts on the fish-horn.

"Boys, let's go for 'em," said one of the down-townies. Raising the
war-whoop of the down-townies, which was a savage, senseless yell, and
lacking the fine martial tones of the up-townies' battle-cry, the enemy
made their charge. Sid Waters stepped, or leaped rather, from the
"chariot" and ran toward the barn. Away went the "colors" in the hands of
Juggie, almost capsizing him, as the tall standard swayed violently. Away
went Wort, and away went Tony. Away rattled the go-cart, Billy and Pip
making excellent time as they dragged it along. An engine rushing to a
fire could not have gone much faster.

"Don't run!" shouted Gov. Grimes. "Stand your ground, my men! Rally!"

"No, sir," said Charlie, replying to the first appeal, and then, in
response to the second, said, quickly, "Yes, sir."

Charlie was the only one among "my men" willing to "rally." But the
governor was not discouraged. He was resolute, even at times to
stubbornness.

He waved his clothes-stick and shrieked, "Come on! I defy you!"

Charlie also looked defiant; but he was so intent on facing the enemy that
he did not pay proper attention to his armor, and the sword that had been
so loyal to grandsir now turned into a rebel to Charlie. It did what
swords will sometimes do; it insisted on mixing up with his chubby legs as
he changed his position, and over he went! Rick had grappled the enemy,
but it was a hopeless struggle,