added gloomily.

"Pshaw, they'll get tired and go home before that," Ernest reassured
him. "Say I've got an idea they can hear about everything we say in the
kitchen. Let's go down and pretend we're having an awful good time
and----"

"Yes, and let's guy them!" interrupted Sherm.

"Sam's in my room at school and he can't stand being made fun of."

The trio returned to the kitchen, and ably seconded by Chicken Little
laughed and frolicked, jeering noisily at the crowd outside. The foes
soon gave evidence that they could hear distinctly. They began to return
the taunts and to rattle and pound on the doors and windows. They were
getting cold and the penetratingly tempting smell of the taffy had
evidently drifted through the cracks, for one shrill voice piped up:

"Say, give us some!" to be immediately hushed by his more warlike
companions.

If the trio had been clever enough to act on this suggestion and treat,
the feud might have come to a speedy end, but the lads were not at a
tactful age. Instead Sherm hurled the most insulting defiance he could
think of.

"Go get some yourselves, you red-headed Irish beggars!"

This taunt roused the wrath of the attacking party to a white heat, and
an instant later the kitchen window came crashing in and a giant snow
ball burst into masses of wet snow on the floor.

The boys made a dash for the door, but the bolt was hardly slid, when
it, too, crashed, open, and Frank Morton stamped in, pushing Pat Casey
and Mike Dolan ahead of him each securely gripped by the collar, in his
strong hands.

"Now look here, what's the meaning of all this boys?"

Before the boys could recover from their surprise sufficiently to
answer, Dr. and Mrs. Morton and Alice came running in.

Frank stopped their questions with a word.

"Let me tend to this, please, Father."

Little by little he extracted the trio's version of the day's
happenings.

He turned to the Irish boys. "Is that straight?" he demanded.

At first the lads maintained a sullen silence, but finally Pat
volunteered.

"They don't own that 'ere pond any more'n we do."

"Who said they did?" asked Frank quickly.

"Nobody," admitted Pat, "but they allus act like they did. They told us
to keep off the north end."

"How is that Ernest?"

"Well, we didn't want them mixing up with us."

"Anybody give you a deed to that pond?"

The boys were silent.

"Now look here, boys," Frank's voice was stern. "It strikes me you
fellow