“I don’t think they ought to hold that against him,” said Matty stoutly. “Lots of other boys have done things just as bad. Besides, he might—might redeem himself to-day if they’d let him play.”
“Suppose he might. Then again he mightn’t. As far as I’m concerned I wish they’d give him another show. Anyway, Cotting kept him on the squad, and that was pretty fair.”
“What are you going to do with that?” asked May, nodding at the implement Tad was concerned with.
“Shoot tigers,” replied the boy. “Saw a beauty last night near your summer-house. Must have been twelve feet long from tip to tip.”
“Twelve inches, you mean,” answered Matty scathingly. “That was the Thurston’s black and yellow cat. He comes over here to catch birds, the old rascal. We’ll be ready at half past one, Tad. Don’t forget.”
“All right. See you later.”
The twins’ faces disappeared from above the hedge and Tad, snapping his knife shut, went off in search of a cord.
Shortly after one o’clock Bursley came. As she had only to journey by train or carriage down the river to Milon, a distance of something under two miles from the school, and then cross in the ferry to Greenridge, the trip was brief and inexpensive, and as a result practically the entire enrollment of Bursley School, over two hundred all told, invaded the stronghold of the enemy that morning. As the tiny ferryboat was unable to accommodate them all on one voyage, it landed its first contingent and then hurried back across the river, puffing and panting importantly, and brought the rest, the first hundred or so waiting at the landing and raiding the popcorn and peanut stands. Finally, when they had formed into a long procession two abreast to make more of a showing, they started off up the hill. Every boy was armed with a small red megaphone adorned with a blue B, and through it as he kept step, or tried to, for marching up the steep ascent of River Street is no light task, he proclaimed over and over:
“B, U, R, S, L, E, Y, Rah, rah, rah!
B, U, R, S, L, E, Y, Rah, rah, rah!”