d a severe siege with bows and arrows--the
ones that were given us to make up for the pistol that was confiscated
after the sad but not sinful occasion when it shot a fox.

To avoid accidents that you would be sorry for afterwards, Oswald, in
his thoughtfulness, had decreed that every one was to wear wire masks.

Luckily there were plenty of these, because a man who lived in the Moat
House once went to Rome, where they throw hundreds and thousands at each
other in play, and call it a Comfit Battle or Battaglia di Confetti
(that's real Italian). And he wanted to get up that sort of thing among
the village people--but they were too beastly slack, so he chucked it.

And in the attic were the wire masks he brought home with him from
Rome, which people wear to prevent the nasty comfits getting in their
mouths and eyes.

So we were all armed to the teeth with masks and arrows, but in
attacking or defending a fort your real strength is not in your
equipment, but in your power of Shove. Oswald, Alice, Noel and Denny
defended the fort. We were much the strongest side, but that was how
Dicky and Oswald picked up.

The others got in, it is true, but that was only because an arrow hit
Dicky on the nose, and it bled quarts as usual, though hit only through
the wire mask. Then he put into dock for repairs, and while the
defending party weren't looking he sneaked up the wall at the back and
shoved Oswald off, and fell on top of him, so that the fort, now that it
had lost its gallant young leader, the life and soul of the besieged
party, was of course soon overpowered and had to surrender.

Then we sat on the top and ate some peppermints Albert's uncle brought
us a bag of from Maidstone when he went to fetch away the Roman pottery
we tried to sell the Antiquities with.

The battle was over, and peace raged among us as we sat in the sun on
the big wall and looked at the fields, all blue and swimming in the
heat.

We saw the tramp coming through the beet-field. He made a dusty blot on
the fair scene.

When he saw us he came close to the wall, and touched his cap, as I have
said, and remarked:

"Excuse me interrupting of your sports, young gentlemen and ladies, but
if you could so far oblige as to tell a laboring man the way to the
nearest pub. It's a dry day and no error."

"The 'Rose and Crown' is the best pub," said Dicky, "and the landlady is
a friend of ours. It's about a mile if you go by the field path."

"Lor' love