oor shut and the bolt pushed
into its socket.

Then the three heroes with beads of perspiration rolling from their
foreheads sat down under the shade of an apple tree to discuss the
situation. Since their armory was demeaned into a pig-pen, it was
necessary to remove their weapons and put them in a secure place; but
where? That was the question.

There was a summer-house in the garden of Franz's home which was never
used, was rain-proof, and had a good door with a strong catch, but no
lock and key or even a bolt. Being near the dwelling it was secure, as
no opposing schoolboy would dare go through the garden to break into
their armory and carry off the weapons.

This suggestion was hailed with hearty appreciation, and in good spirits
they drove nails into the walls and carried their helmets and beloved
weapons one by one and put them in that place of refuge; then went to
their suppers, and to prepare their lessons for the following day.

Their arrival in the school yard the next morning was announced by the
laughter and jeers of their opponents.

"Say, did you imagine that your hog was Hector on the walls of Troy when
it ran up the straw-heap?" shouted one.

"No, he thought he was Hercules, but found that instead of being strong
enough to carry the hog, the hog had to carry him," laughed another.

The three friends passed on into the schoolroom, red with anger but
helpless to defend themselves; their tormentors following, for there
was more sport in store which not one of them wished to miss.

Upon the great blackboard was a very fair picture in chalk of the
exploit with the hog, and the laughing, jeering and shrill whistling
were resumed when they saw the anger of the three friends. The muscular
and energetic Fritz rushed to the blackboard to rub out the offending
cartoon, but his hands were held by the enemy, his struggles to release
them were useless, and he went to his seat in anger and mortification.

At that moment the teacher came, and hearing the sound of weeping he
asked the cause. As Odysseus-Fritz was unable to speak for sobbing, the
enemy had the welcome chance to give an account of the tilt between the
"three-leaved clover" and the four-footed Hector, and as the wit of the
school was spokesman, the story lost nothing of its mirth-provoking
quality.

The teacher tried his best to look grave over the affair, but the
narrative, together with its illustration on the blackboard, was too
much for him