followed swiftly into the
room by the body that belonged to it, and by other faces and other
bodies--all the faces masked, and all the bodies hidden in long black
robes.

Tug fell back a step, and said, with all the calmness he could muster:

"I guess you fellows are in the wrong room."

"Nope; we've come for you," was the answer of the first masker, who
spoke in a disguised voice.

Tug looked as resolutely as he could into the eyes behind the mask,
and asked rather nervously a question whose answer he could have as
easily given himself:

"Well, now that you're here, what do you want?"

Again the disguised voice came deeply from the somber-robed leader:

"Oh, we just want to have a little fun with you."

"Well, I don't want to have any fun with you," parleyed Tug, trying to
gain time.

"Oh, it doesn't make any difference whether you want to come or not;
this isn't your picnic--it's ours," was the cheery response of the
first ghost; and the other black Crows fairly cawed with delight.

Still Tug argued: "What right have you men got to come into my room
without being invited?"

"It's just a little surprise-party we've planned."

"Well, I'm not feeling like entertaining any surprise-party to-night."

"Oh, that doesn't make any difference to us." Again the black flock
flapped its wings and cawed.

And now Tug, as usual, lost his temper when he saw they were making a
guy of him, and he blurted fiercely:

"Get out of here, all of you!"

Then the crowd laughed uproariously at him.

And this made him still more furious, and though they were ten to one,
Tug flung himself at them without fear or hesitation. When five of
them fell on him at once, he dragged them round the room as if they
were football-players trying to down him; but the odds were too great,
and before long they overpowered him and tied his wrists behind him;
not without difficulty, for Tug had the slipperiness of an eel, along
with the strength of a young shark. When they had him well bound, and
his legs tethered so that he could take only very short steps, they
lifted him to his feet.

"I think we'd better gag him," said the leader of the Crows; and he,
produced a stout handkerchief. But Tug gave him one contemptuous look,
and remarked:

"Do you suppose I'm a cry-baby? I'm not going to call for help."

There was something in his tone that convinced the captain of the
Crows.

VI

A detachment was now sent to scurry through the