alculated to carry the fort. Already the men who wielded
that heavy battering ram made from a convenient log, seemed to be
smashing in the stout oaken front door, never built to resist such
a desperate assault. It quivered with each blow.

The director was shouting a medley of orders through that wonderful
megaphone of his. He seemed to be able to see everything that took
place. Hugh compared him to what he had once read about the eminent
conductor of orchestra and musical festivals, Theodore Thomas, who
when more than a hundred musicians were practicing under his direction,
with a fearful outburst of sound and melody, would suddenly stop the
proceedings, and scold a certain player whose instrument had "flatted,"
or come in just an ace behind the regular time.

And every member of that vast company was keeping a wary eye on the
director all the time seeming to be working like mad. They were waiting
to catch the signal that was to inaugurate the final scene, where
those on the walls were to weaken, allowing one after another of the
ascending men on the ladders to crawl over the parapet.

The door was really giving way now under the bombardment brought to
bear upon it. Indeed, not to be premature those who wielded the
battering ram had to slacken their efforts more or less, though
pretending to work as furiously as heretofore.

One thing alone seemed lacking, according to the mind of Billy, to make
the battle seem the real thing. There were no cannon shots, and even
the rattle of muskets and small arms appeared lacking.

Later on, when by chance in a carping, critical mood he mentioned
this fact, he was greeted by a roar of derision from Monkey Stallings
and Alec, who told him to brush up a little on history. He must remember
that in those ancient days gunpowder had not been invented, and that
consequently all missiles that passed through the air had to be hurled
by machines fashioned after the style of the familiar rubber sling
so well known to all boys.

"It's coming soon now, fellows!" shouted the Stallings boy, whose
quick eye no doubt noted certain preparations for the final scene,
such as a gathering of the assailants on the ladders, now no longer
being overthrown, and also clinging to such projections of the stone
walls near the escarpment as they could find.

Alec held his hand.

"Only one more picture!" he was groaning, disconsolately, at the same
time determined that it should be the climax of t