f to test its power,
followed by Elisabeth of Belgium, Sheila, Luigi and Pietro Paterno,
Olga Peterson and Vasili and Vladimir Vereshchagin. The romper-clad
band stirred the amused smiles of the elders watching them.

"They certainly are the cunningest little dinks that ever happened!"
cried Ethel Brown, establishing herself comfortably to help make small
bows and arrows for the rest of the flock.

The girls as well as the boys of the United Service Club knew how to
use a jacknife and the diminutive weapons of the chase were soon ready.

The Ethels were hunting through the luncheon basket for string when a
howl from the other side of the field made them drop what was in their
hands and rush toward the trees where the children were playing. The
mothers followed them, Mrs. Paterno and Mrs. Vereshchagin in the lead.

"I certainly hope it's not the little Paterno," said Ethel Blue
breathlessly to Ethel Brown as they ran. "Mrs. Paterno never will
forgive Dicky if he's got him into trouble again."

They concluded when they came in sight of the group of children that
the Italian woman had run from nervousness and the Russian because she
recognized the voice of her offspring, for it was Vladimir whose yells
were resounding through the air. Dicky was bending over him and the
other children were standing around so that the runners as they
approached could not see what was the matter.

Mrs. Vereshchagin increased her speed, uttering sounds that fell
strangely on her listeners' ears. The group of children fell away as
their elders came near, and the Ethels, who were in front, saw that
Vladimir was pinned to a tree by Dicky's arrow which had pierced the
fullness of his rompers. He could not be hurt in the least, but the
strangeness of his position had startled and angered him and was
causing the shrieks that had frightened them all.

Fortunately for Dicky, Mrs. Vereshchagin, unlike Mrs. Paterno, had a
sense of humor, and as soon as she saw that her child was neither
injured nor in danger she burst into laughter as loud as his cries of
rage and terror. Roger quickly unfastened him from the tree to which
he was bound and handed him over to his mother, none the worse for his
experience except that his rompers were torn. Turning to Dicky, Roger
decreed that the head must be taken from his arrow.

"It's not your fault, old man," he said; "but Helen was right--this
thing is too sharp."

"I'll tell you what to do, Roger,