“What do you say, Gordon? Think we could do it?” cried Hamlin eagerly.
“Looks as if we might, if we can find the right chap for that burrowing trick.”
“If we only had a big mole here, now,” remarked Reed.
“I’ll be the mole, if nobody else cares to try it,” said Clark.
“I don’t believe that plan will hold water,” remarked one boy, scornfully.
“It’s snow we want it to hold, not water,” was Reed’s quick response.
“We’ll give it a trial anyway,” said Hamlin. “Now then—are you all ready? Well then, we’ll go for those walls again. Forward, march!”
On went the attacking party at a full speed, while those in the fort braced themselves to repel the charge. Fast and furious flew the balls, and in the cloud of snow, and amid the shouting, squirming, struggling crowd trying to climb the walls, it was easy for Clark to drop unnoticed at the bottom, where he had taken care to kick out an opening as he approached the wall. Now, using his hands in decidedly mole-like fashion, he began to burrow under, throwing the snow out behind him as he dug.
Meantime, above and around him, the struggle went on, and so many hard knocks were given and received, that some of the boys began to get angry. The fun was changing to earnest.
Finally, Hamlin again called off his men, and as they gathered about him, out of earshot of those in the fort, he said to Clark:—