ard in eager excitement.

"Why don't you light it yourself?" inquired Bart of Dale.

"I've sprained my foot--limping now," explained young Wacker. "She may
kick, you see, and soon as you light her you want to scoot."

"Go ahead, Bart! touch her off," implored little Sawyer, quivering with
excitement.

"Whoop! hurrah!" yelled a frantic chorus as Bart took a voluntary step
up the hill.

That decided him--patriotism was in the air and he was fully infected.
One or two of the larger boys advanced with him, but halted at a safe
distance, while the younger ones danced about and stuck their fingers in
their ears, screaming.

Bart got to the side of the cannon. It was silhouetted in the landscape
on a slight slant towards the stately mansion and grounds of Colonel
Harrington, in full view at all times of the magnate who had improved
its surroundings.

Bart made out a long fuse trailing three feet or more over the side of
the old fieldpiece. He blew the punk to a bright glow.

"Ready!" he called back merrily over his shoulder.

The hillside vibrated with the flutter of expectant juvenile humanity
and a vast babel of half-suppressed excited voices.

Bart applied the punk, there was a fizz, a sharp hiss, a writhing worm
of quick flame, and then came a fearful report that split the air like
the crack of doom.

CHAPTER III

COUNTING THE COST

Bart had quickly moved to one side of the cannon after lighting the
fuse, and was about twenty feet away when the explosion came.

The alarming echoes, the shock, flare and smoke combined to give him a
terrific sensation.

The crowd that had retreated down the hill in delightful trepidation now
came trooping back filled with a bolder excitement.

They had indeed "waked the natives," for gazing downhill against the
lights of the street and stores at its base they could see people
rushing outdoors in palpable agitation.

Some were staring up the hill in wonder and terror, others were starting
for its summit, among them two village officials, as demonstrated by the
silver stars they wore.

"They heard it--it woke 'em up, right enough!" shrieked little Sawyer
in a frenzy of happiness.

"Look yonder!" piped a second breathless voice. "Say, I thought I heard
something strike."

Dale Wacker came upon the scene--not limping, but chuckling and winking
to the cronies at his back.

"Pretty good aim, eh, fellows?" he gloated. "Stirling, you're a capital
gunner."

All