unkus
was to empty the scuttles into the coffee-mill.

In a very short time they had this plan in execution. When they
slipped back into the Garden they found that the Fractions had been
drinking so heavily that many of them were snoring loudly under the
multiplication tables; and the rest were carousing so uproariously
that they took no notice whatever of the preparations for their
overthrow. The Snimmy's wife took her station grimly at the
coffee-mill; Pirlaps, Schlorge, Sara and the Snimmy grouped themselves
about her, and in a very few minutes the first scuttleful of poems
arrived. The first Gunkus emptied them into the mill; Mrs. Snimmy
began to grind violently; the gunners, with hands trembling with
excitement, loaded their bellows. Even in this terrible moment Sara
could not help noticing what a lovely stuff the powder was--a blue and
silver dust, with a delicate fragrance like sachet powder. Surely it
could not harm anybody! She felt a sinking of the heart; but she kept
her eyes on Pirlaps, and his splendid, confident bearing helped to
reassure her. And when he said, "A--B--C!" they all fired
simultaneously. And oh, glorious success! It was clear that the
poem-dust was absolutely deadly to the enemy. At the first shot the
Least Common Multiple and a number of privates fell out of their
chairs, as dead as if they had been caught between the covers of an
arithmetic! Moreover, the poem-dust that filled the air seemed to tend
to stupefy the others; so that, though there was a terrible uproar and
a desperate scramble for weapons, victory for the defenders was
certain from the start. There was only one defect in the organization;
one thing had escaped Pirlaps' wonderful foresight. There was no
efficient way to get the powder from the coffee-mill to the bellows;
and in the loading much time was wasted and much ammunition spilled.
While Pirlaps was looking about him with great anxiety, trying to
think of some way to remedy the trouble, the little Teacup came
fluttering tremulously down from above. "Let me do it!" she cried; and
while they all looked on in admiration (though with only one eye
apiece, since the other was busy aiming at the enemy) she proceeded to
load one pair of bellows after another, with the utmost nicety and
plenty of poetry-powder. A little was spilled, to be sure, because she
trembled so terribly; still, it was an enormous improvement, and they
all praised and congratulated the Teacup.

"Ah, thes