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 at the Brick Yard, the rightful possessors of that hole were sent scuttling ashore, to become united to their wearing apparel later, behind any friendly shrubbery and any convenient fence-boards that might offer.

The victors swung the Greyhound in under one of the big elms, canopied and festooned with wild grapevines, and there made her fast.

Then they stripped, to a man, in her little cabin. Piggie Brennan alone was somewhat tardy about removing his shirt, having discovered that the heat of battle had taken the color out of sundry mysterious little pieces of hair-ribbon carried gallantly in his bosom, and being anxious to avoid explanation as to how numerous vivid blue and crimson spots chanced to adorn his unusually fair skin.

Then one by one the boys "took their duck," diving in rapid succession from the rudder-stem of the Greyhound, cutting the surface crisply, gasping and blowing and shaking dripping heads as they emerged from the cool yellow depths of the shaded water.

Then their new-born energy took the form of a game of follow-the-leader, consisting of