ffered. And this contest endured. It went
on and on, and it was impossible to imagine its coming to a definite
termination. It went on so long that to both the participants it seemed
to be a permanent thing, a condition that had always existed and that
must always exist perpetually.

And thus they were discovered by a foray of the hostile party, headed
by Roddy Bitts and Herman (older brother to Verman) and followed by the
bonded prisoners, Maurice Levy and Georgie Bassett. These and others
caught sight of the writhing figures, and charged down upon them with
loud cries of triumph.

"Pris'ner! Pris'ner! Bonded pris'ner!" shrieked Roddy Bitts, and touched
Penrod and Sam, each in turn, with his sabre. Then, seeing that they
paid no attention and that they were at his mercy, he recalled the fact
that several times, during earlier stages of the game, both of them had
been unnecessarily vigorous in "touching" his own rather plump person.
Therefore, the opportunity being excellent, he raised his weapon again,
and, repeating the words "bonded pris'ner" as ample explanation of his
deed, brought into play the full strength of his good right arm. He used
the flat of the sabre.

WHACK! WHACK! Roddy was perfectly impartial. It was a cold-blooded
performance and even more effective than he anticipated. For one thing,
it ended the civil war instantly. Sam and Penrod leaped to their feet,
shrieking and bloodthirsty, while Maurice Levy capered with joy, Herman
was so overcome that he rolled upon the ground, and Georgie Bassett
remarked virtuously:

"It serves them right for fighting."

But Roddy Bitts foresaw that something not within the rules of the game
was about to happen.

"Here! You keep away from me!" he quavered, retreating. "I was just
takin' you pris'ners. I guess I had a right to TOUCH you, didn't I?"

Alas! Neither Sam nor Penrod was able to see the matter in that light.
They had retrieved their own weapons, and they advanced upon Roddy with
a purposefulness that seemed horrible to him.

"Here! You keep away from me!" he said, in great alarm. "I'm goin'
home."

He did go home--but only subsequently. What took place before his
departure had the singular solidity and completeness of systematic
violence; also, it bore the moral beauty of all actions that lead to
peace and friendship, for, when it was over, and the final vocalizations
of Roderick Magsworth Bitts, Junior, were growing faint with increasing
distance,