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 "Well, you know what happened in Greek history when some chap sowed dragon's teeth?"

"They came up armed men," said H. O.; but Noël sternly bade him shut up, and Oswald said "Well," again. If he spoke impatiently it was because he smelled the bacon being taken in to breakfast.

"Well," Noël went on, "what do you suppose would have come up if we'd sowed those dragon's teeth we found yesterday?"

"Why, nothing, you young duffer," said Oswald, who could now smell the coffee. "All that isn't History—it's Humbug. Come on in to brekker."

"It's not humbug," H. O. cried, "it is history. We did sow—"

"Shut up," said Noël again. "Look here, Oswald. We did sow those dragon's teeth in Randall's ten-acre meadow, and what do you think has come up?"

"Toadstools, I should think," was Oswald's contemptible rejoinder.

"They have come up a camp of soldiers," said Noël—"armed men. So you see it was history. We have sowed army-seed, just like Cadmus, and it has come up. It was a very wet night. I dare say that helped it along."

Oswald could not decide which to disbelieve—his brother or his ears. So disguising his doubtful emotions without a word, he led the way to the bacon and the banqueting hall.

He said nothing about the army-seed then,