"You know the little cannon in Mr. Scott's field? He thinks no end of it; it's a Revolutionary relic or Waterloo or something. Well, those fellows are going to steal it to-night and have a great time to-morrow. Five of them are in it."
"Whew!" whistled Herbert Day. "I shouldn't like to be in their shoes when Mr. Scott finds it out; he'll make it hot for them! But how's that going to help us, Tommy; we're not in it?"
"I know; but what we want to do," answered the Sergeant, "is to guard the cannon and spoil their little game. It would be great to get ahead of Davis for once."
"Wouldn't they punch our heads?" said Billy, doubtfully; "they're bigger."
"I'd like to see them," blustered Fatty; "we'd run them through with our bayonets."
"What time did they agree to take the cannon, Tommy?" asked Bert.
"After dark, about nine, I suppose. They said they could drag it across the field to Davis's barn, and that nobody would catch on."
"What sport!" chuckled Green. "We'll go early, then, and form in single file round the old cannon, and I'd like to see the man who could take it from us."
"Mr. Scott has a big mastiff, hasn't he?" asked Billy.
"What of that?" scornfully, and Billy was silenced. The boys forgot their heat and fatigue in their eagerness to prepare for such a great undertaking, and over and over again the Sergeant's commands rang out: "Load! squad, ready! aim! fire! Order arms! Load! ready! aim! recover arms! fire!" etc., for a full hour.