s hand to his arm. The blood was
trickling through his fingers.

"Keep out of range of the windows everybody," shouted Ted, from the
lounge.

"Them fellers is quick an' peevish!" shouted Bud. "I'm goin' ter git one
er two, shore's my name ain't John Henry Thomas Quackenbush."

There was a stairway in the hall, and Bud went up the steps three at a
time.

They heard his step overhead, then his voice in a roar of angry
surprise.

"Jumpin' sand-hill fleas!" he yelled. "So that's yer game, is it?"

Outside there was a crash, and through the window they saw a falling
ladder; then two men hurtling through the air.

In a moment there was a thud on the earth, and yells of agony.

"They were trying to surprise us from above, but good old Bud got there
in time to fool them," said Ted. "Bully for him. Ben, go up and help
him. He may need it."

Several shots outside broke the silence that followed the fall of the
ladder, and the breaking of glass in the upper windows.

Then came a fusillade in the upper rooms.

"Bud and Ben are giving them as good as they send," muttered Ted.

From the yells that came from the garden the shots from above had
evidently done some execution, for they were followed by a rush of feet,
then silence.

"Look out, Kit," said Ted, "and see what's doing. But be careful; do not
expose yourself."

"No one in sight," said Kit, peering around the corner of the window
casing, having first put his hat in an exposed position to draw fire if
there were any sharpshooters on guard outside.

"Wait! Great Scott, they're going to set fire to the house!" yelled Kit,
running from the room.

In spite of the protestations of Stella, Ted staggered to his feet and
followed Kit.

He swayed from weakness as he ran, but appeared to grow stronger with
the excitement.

Two men had rushed to the shelter of the side of the house, and were now
safe from shots from the windows.

One of them had trundled before him a tar barrel, while the other had
his arms full of shavings.

This was the sight that had caused Kit's exclamation.

"Gee whiz, this is bad," said Kit. "In a minute they'll have the stuff
blazing, and the house will go in this wind as if it was made of oiled
paper. What are we to do?"

Ted, who was holding himself up against a table to keep from falling,
thought a moment.

"They're watching for us to stick our heads out of a window to take a
shot at those fire bugs, and, if we do, that's the end,