in these terms:

'The Challenge is accepted. We will meet you at the Fort. You will be
the garrison, as there are fewer of you, and we'll attack.--Come along.'

'Call the dogs, Reggie,' said Marjorie. 'Do you like sieges?' she
asked Gerald, as they were on their way to the shore.

'Awful fun,' replied the fair-haired boy, whose pink and white face was
fast becoming tanned by wind and sun.

'What weapons are to be used?' asked Marjorie, turning quickly to the
others.

'Turfs,' replied Allan, 'and lumps of wet sea-weed if you like.'

Marjorie gave a little jump as though she were pleased.

The boat was launched, and cut swiftly through the transparent water,
while the new boys looked around with expectant faces.

'What an awfully jolly place,' they said, as they sprang out on the
beach. 'Awful fun, having an island of your own to do as you like
with.'

'Half-an-hour allowed for gathering ammunition,' called out Marjorie.
'We'll show Harry and Gerald over the place when we've had our fight.
We had better defend from the roof of the cottage, for we might pull
down the walls if we defended from the inside.'

Some time was spent in digging clods of turf, a quantity of which was
piled on the roof of the hut for the defenders, while the attackers
disposed theirs in little heaps at a short distance from the fort.

'Now for the sea-weed,' cried Marjorie; 'nothing like getting a heap of
wet tang thrown in your face when you're fighting.'

The tide was far out, and quantities of wet sea-weed lay exposed on the
rocks.

'No stones to be taken,' said Allan, sawing through the tough, thick
stalks with a large pocket-knife.

'How do you like our way of playing?' asked Marjorie of Harry, as she
passed him, grasping in each hand a mass of wet sea-weed which dripped
down on her frock and shoes.

'Awful fun,' replied the boy, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

'Come along then, I think we've got enough.'

She swung herself nimbly on to the roof, followed by Hamish and
Tricksy. The wind was freshening, and sang in their ears, making them
feel excited and eager for the fray.

'It's rather stormy,' said Harry; 'do you think we'll get back?'

'Of course,' said Marjorie; 'why, this is nothing! We like it to be a
little stormy, it's better fun. Call the others,' and they shouted for
the rest of the attacking party, who came hurrying, armed with
missiles. Laddie and Carlo followed in the rear, suspending their
op