The remaining half-dozen mediocrities were divided without further ado.
Then the two leaders stepped gravely to one side and discussed the rules
for the approaching conflict, while the rank and file of the two armies,
twelve strong, amused themselves by wrestling, throwing bits of stone
and glass up on the railroad tracks, and engaging in impromptu games of
tag.

"Each fellow gets twenty cucumbers," concluded John. "That'll leave some
for fun, later. If a man gets hit three times, he's a deader and has to
quit. Side wins when the other fellows are killed, same as it was last
year."

Silvey nodded and beckoned to his clan. The Fletcherites were about to
withdraw to the opposite side of the field when an unforeseen
interruption occurred.

"Wanta fight!" announced a tousled-headed, wash-suited five-year-old
with determination.

"Go on!" retorted Silvey incautiously as he looked down upon the
petitioner from the lofty height of ten long years of life. "This game
ain't for babies. It's for _men_. You'd get hit in the eye and go home
to ma-ma in a minute. You can't play."

The infant eyed him for a moment and threw himself on the ground in a
fit of rage. "Wanta fight! Wanta fight! Wanta fight!" he wailed again
and again.

Bill turned to Skinny Mosher angrily. "What do you always bring that kid
brother along for? He spoils all our fun. Ain't you got any sense?"

"Sense?" replied that star marksman in injured tones. "You bet I've got
sense. But what's a fellow to do when his ma says, 'Now, Leonard, take
little brother along and see that those big, rough boys don't hurt
him.'" Tone and mannerisms were in perfect imitation of Mrs. Mosher.

"Give him some cucumbers and let him fool around. That'll keep him
quiet," Red suggested.

"Yes," retorted Silvey scornfully. "Then he'll mix in the fight and get
hit and go home bawling, same as he did when we had the snow fort. Then
his ma'll go around to our mas and tell 'em what rough games we play and
how it's a wonder somebody hasn't lost an eye. We'll all get penny
lectures and the fun'll be spoiled for a week. Oh, yes, let him fight!"

John broke the gloomy silence which followed. "Here, kid, you can join
both armies at once."

The incubus ceased wailing and looked up eagerly. Silvey's and Skinny's
faces bespoke perturbed amazement.

"How----," interrupted Red Brown.

"You can be a Red Crosser and look after the ones who get killed," John
continued serenely. "Only you