"All right, then," said Harvey, solemnly; "if you don't surrender we'll have to wade in and do you up. Won't we, Davis?"
"Yield!" shouted Davis, flourishing a big stick; "the cannon or your life!"
"Come on," cried the undaunted little Sergeant, as a twenty-five-cent cracker went off under his nose. "We'll never surrender!"
"We'll never surrender!" echoed the rest of the squad, spurred on to resistance by their leader. "Come on!"
And the next moment the bayonets were shattered by the charge, the guns wrenched from the boys' hands, and down they went on the ground a wriggling mass of arms and legs.
It began to look very bad for the Raleigh Reds, when, to their great relief, the reserve force came up on a full gallop, urged on by the command of, "At 'em, Pedro, at 'em!"
This time Dom Pedro discriminated between his allies and the foe, for he dashed at Davis with a growl that struck terror to the stoutest heart.
"Here comes Mr. Scott, boys!" cried White, scrambling up from Dick's prostrate form; "we'd better skip;" and leaving the still unconquered squad fighting manfully on their backs, the big boys made for the fence, with Dom Pedro in hot pursuit.
The Reds picked themselves up, and looked ruefully for their scattered arms. They were pretty well battered and broken, but the cannon was safe.
"Fall in," commanded the Sergeant, as Mr. Scott walked up, holding Pedro by the collar.