"

"We'll have to divide up some way," said Sherm. "Ernest, let's you and
me be Richard and Philip, and Carol can be the sultan and defend the
place. And we could have the girls up here for the sultan's wives--he
had a lot--they'd be out of the way."

"Not on your life," grunted Carol, disgusted at having all the girls put
in his charge.

"It won't be bad, Carol, the garrison'll have to have a lot of
provisions, and I'll give you some apples and cookies if you'll let the
little girls play," Alice interposed tactfully.

"Cricky, Alice, you're a brick!"

"Gee, Alice, wish you lived at our house!" Carol and Sherm exclaimed in
unison.

Alice Fletcher, a sturdy, intelligent-looking girl of twenty, was
pleased at the boy's praise. "Thanks, my lords!" she replied, waving a
peeling at them.

"Oh, well, I don't care if the girls'll keep out of the way," conceded
Carol.

"Gertie can be the wives and me and Jane will be the soldiers. Carol
will need somebody to help him," said ambitious Katy.

The preliminaries were soon arranged. Timid Gertie was safely stowed
away where she could hold to the chimney if a sudden panic seized her,
and the boys graciously posted Jane and Katy on the battlements,
otherwise known as the comb of the roof, to man the engines and spy out
the landscape. They kicked off their shoes, the better to cling, and
pranced around stocking-footed regardless of possible parental
displeasure.

Ernest and Sherman were just preparing to rush up the ladder armed with
villainous-looking battle-axes made out of old lath, when Alice halted
them.

"But you'll have to decide how to take the tower. If Carol tries to keep
you off and knocks over the ladder you'll get hurt. Suppose you give him
a switch and if he can touch you before you can get within two rounds
of the top, you're dead, but if you can touch him, he'll have to
surrender."

The opposing forces parleyed. The scaling party was rather dubious about
tackling the sultan with only one scaling ladder, but they finally
compromised on very short switches, so short in fact that Alice was
worried lest the sultan should promptly take a header off the roof in
his efforts to repel the invaders.

The attack began merrily. The boys swarmed up the ladder with
blood-curdling yells of "Richard for England!" from Ernest and shriller
cries of "France! France!" from Sherm, whose voice always trailed off
into high C when he got excited.

The "sultan's wives" hugg