l broom that raised
a palpable cloud of dust, was something that really taxed the noblest
exertions. And it was the morning after the arrival of the strangers
that John Milton stood on the veranda of the store ostentatiously
examining the horizon, with his hand shading his eyes, as one of his
companions appeared.

"Hollo, Milt! wot yer doin'?"

John Milton started dramatically, and then violently dashed at one of
the shutters and began to detach it. "Ha!" he said hoarsely. "Clear the
ship for action! Open the ports! On deck there! Steady, you lubbers!"
In an instant his enthusiastic school-fellow was at his side attacking
another shutter. "A long, low schooner bearing down upon us! Lively,
lads, lively!" continued John Milton, desisting a moment to take another
dramatic look at the distant plain. "How does she head now?" he demanded
fiercely.

"Sou' by sou'east, sir," responded the other boy, frantically dancing
before the window. "But she'll weather it."

They each then wrested another shutter away, violently depositing them,
as they ran to and fro, in a rack at the corner of the veranda. Added
to an extraordinary and unnecessary clattering with their feet, they
accompanied their movements with a singular hissing sound, supposed to
indicate in one breath the fury of the elements, the bustle of the eager
crew, and the wild excitement of the coming conflict. When the last
shutter was cleared away, John Milton, with the cry "Man the starboard
guns!" dashed into the store, whose floor was marked by the muddy
footprints of yesterday's buyers, seized a broom and began to sweep
violently. A cloud of dust arose, into which his companion at once
precipitated himself with another broom and a loud BANG! to indicate the
somewhat belated sound of cannon. For a few seconds the two boys plied
their brooms desperately in that stifling atmosphere, accompanying each
long sweep and puff of dust out of the open door with the report of
explosions and loud HA'S! of defiance, until not only the store, but the
veranda was obscured with a cloud which the morning sun struggled vainly
to pierce. In the midst of this tumult and dusty confusion--happily
unheard and unsuspected in the secluded domestic interior of the
building--a shrill little voice arose from the road.

"Think you're mighty smart, don't ye?"

The two naval heroes stopped in their imaginary fury, and, as the dust
of conflict cleared away, recognized little Johnny Peters gazi