“Is dat all?”
“All.”
“Knock off his hat,” whispered Sid.
“What’s de matter wid your hat?” and as Juggie shouted this, he fetched the governor’s hat a merciless rap, one that would have been serious had not the governors head luckily been in the first story of the hat. As the hat dropped, Juggie seized a paper that fell out, and exclaimed, “A spy, a spy! A note to de British commander!”
“Seize him! That is the next thing,” suggested Sid, in smothered tones. But the British spy was too much for Juggie, and the defender of the continental name was obliged to resort to severe measures. Presenting the broom-handle, he shouted, “Aim! Fire! Bang!” but the spy was not considerate enough to fall.
“Drop! drop, why don’t you?” whispered Juggie. “You’ve been shot.”
The spy, alias the governor, showed his usual firmness, and continued to stand.
“Drop!” besought Sid, in a suppressed voice. “Shoot him again, Juggie!”
But the spy did not care to be riddled again and he prudently fell.
“Drag him out, Juggie!” was the prompting of an unknown voice. Juggie seized one of the spy’s fat legs, but pulled in vain. It was an impossible feet. Sid and Charlie now appeared as continentals, supposed to be armed with guns, and were helping Juggie, when the cry was raised, “The British army is coming!” At the head of the stairs appeared Wort Wentworth, his head decorated with a red paper helmet, and carrying on his body various insignia of war. He now made a fierce charge across the floor.