st exciting game the
Oak Hill children had found in a long time.

"Well, how is it going?" asked Miss Mason, as they came up, damp and
rosy, in answer to the noon bell. "I watched you from the window for a
few moments, but I couldn't tell what you were building."

Couldn't tell what they were building! If that wasn't like a woman!
For a second Bobby was completely discouraged, and then he thought that
of course Miss Mason couldn't be expected to know. She probably had no
idea what a really good snow fight was.

"We were making forts," he explained. "Tim's is down by the gate and
mine is under the chestnut tree. We've got a lot of ammunition made,
too."

School was out at three o'clock, and a good many of the teachers came
upstairs to Miss Mason's room to watch the fight from her windows.
Only first and second grade pupils were supposed to take part, but the
third and fourth grade children seemed naturally to drift in the
direction of the piled up snowballs.

"We'll help you make 'em," they offered.

"That's fair enough," said Mr. Carter, who was to be referee. "You
fourth graders help the first, and the third grade can be a reserve
force for the second."

When enough snowballs were ready to begin with, the general of the
Blacks retired behind the white walls of his fort and the forces of the
Orange did the same. Mr. Carter blew shrilly on his whistle, and the
battle raged.

Whenever a head popped up over the wall of either fort, whiz! a
snowball would be flung toward it. Sometimes the head ducked,
sometimes it was caught fairly.

"Gee, don't they sting!" Palmer Davis danced about, holding one hand
to his ear. "Just you let me have a whack at 'em!"

The girls were aiming furiously, if blindly. And though Meg closed her
eyes tight every time she threw a snowball, Bobby reported that several
of her shots had hit a victim. Thanks to the good work of the fourth
grade pupils, the supply of ammunition held out well.

Suddenly Bobby, who was standing on a little snow mound that raised him
slightly above the wall, received a snowball squarely in the eye. He
cried out with the pain, though he tried to smother the sound with his
hand over his mouth.

"That was dipped in water and packed!" said Palmer angrily, picking up
the ball and examining it. "That's no fair. Mr. Carter said packed
snowballs weren't to be used. Let's see your eye, Bobby. Is it
swelling?"

"Don't say anything," begged Bobby, l