bart and solomon fall into an ambush, and after a desperate resistance are made prisoners.—bonds and imprisonment.—bruce and the gaspereau-gians.—a challenge, a conflict, and a victory.—immense sensation among the spectators.—the prisoners burst their bonds.—their flight.—recovery of the spoils of war.

meanwhile bart and solomon had been having their own little adventure. they had left the academy at half past three, so as to have everything ready for the boys by four o’clock. for this purpose solomon carried a basket of provisions, filled with those multiform and very attractive dishes which his rare culinary genius never failed to create whenever a fitting occasion demanded it.

so they ascended the hill, and crossed the old french orchard, and descended into the gully, and went up the other side into the woods, and then walked along the path towards the camp.

suddenly, as they came to a place where the path turned to the left, there was a loud shout; and in an instant they were surrounded by some twenty or thirty boys. the boys were rough and wild. they were dressed in homespun. they were strong-limbed, red-cheeked, horny-handed, burly fellows; and they threw themselves violently upon bart and solomon.

bart struggled bravely; but what could he do against so many? in his desperate struggles he managed to knock down one or two of them; but before long he was lying down, first on his back, and then on his face, and his hands were tied behind him. then he was allowed to get up. he did so, and found himself none the worse for the rough-and-tumble fight which he had been indulging in. a pang, however, came to his generous heart as he saw solomon with his hands tied; and another pang, also, as he saw two of the gaspereaugians carrying off the basket with all its precious store of provisions.

but in spite of his situation, bart did not for a moment lose heart.

“couldn’t you have managed it with less than thirty?” he said, quietly, to the gaspereaugians. “wouldn’t twenty have done to attack me and old solomon?”

the gaspereaugians looked sulky at this.

“ten, i should say,” resumed bart. “ten gaspereaugians ought to be enough for one of us; and if so, why bring thirty? answer me that. you won’t? very well. all the same.”

“here, young chap,—you dry up!” growled a big gaspereaugian, who was near him. “ten of us? i’ll show you that i’m a match fur any ten o’ youns. that wull i jist. so dry up!”

“it’s quite right to keep me tied up,” resumed bart, cheerily. “i might do you harm, and i only wonder you don’t tie my feet too. you wouldn’t be safe if my hands were loose,—of course. but, my gaspereaugian friends, why bind the hands of my aged companion? he won’t hurt you. he’s one of your own people. his home is in your own charming valley. you all know old solomon. i guarantee that he shall not harm one of you. so, my friends, unbind his aged hands.”

“you shut your mouth,” growled the big gaspereaugian, “or i’ll precious soon make you. i know you,—young f’ler,—no humbug! you’re the chap that blacked my eye with a snowball last winter.”

“was it you?” said bart, with a laugh. “that is capital! if i wasn’t tied up, i’d insist on shaking hands with you. and did i black your eye? ha, ha, ha! i never knew that before. it was a capital shot. i remember, now that you mention it. but look here—you gave me something back. you gave me a snowball that set my nose bleeding for half an hour; and that, i think, was about the only blood that was shed in all our battles.”

bart spoke with such jolly carelessness, and such good humor, that his fun was contagious, and the gaspereaugians burst into a roar of laughter. even the big fellow who had threatened him joined in the laugh, and a murmur went round among them to the effect that this prisoner wasn’t a bad fellow.

“solomon,” said bart, “solomon, my sable friend, how do you feel?”

“tip top,” said solomon, with a grin. “solomon?”

“yes, s’r.”

“they’re going to tie us up tighter. they’re so afraid of us! do you think you can stand it?”

“stan it? yes, s’r. ’tain’t nuffin. all same to an ole niggar like me. i knows ebery one ob dem. i’m gasperojum myself.”

“fellow-citizens,” said bart, “and gentlemen of the gaspereaux valley, i appeal to your chivalry! is it generous, or noble, or chivalrous, to bind the hands of my aged friend? i’ll give my word that he shan’t knock down more than a dozen of you, if you let him loose. come now, aren’t there a dozen of you that will be willing to be knocked down for the sake of alleviating the woes of an aged, a virtuous, and an occasionally rheumatic african? besides, you don’t know what he is. he’s not a common person. he’s a grand panjandrum.”

“o, you panjer danjer yerself, an see how you like it!” growled the big gaspereaugian, who felt some slight fear that bart was making fun of him.

“see here,” said bart; “since you’ve tied us up, hadn’t you better tie up that basket of provisions, too? if you haven’t got any cord, you may take what i have.”

this was received with roars of laughter, to which bart listened with unaltered placidity.

meanwhile, as bart had been speaking, he had been trying his fetters, and found them not so tight but that he could work his hands free. his jests about their tying his hands made the gaspereaugians ashamed to secure them more tightly. some of them, indeed, were in favor even of untying him. but bart had been hurriedly bound, and his hands were small, so that to slip them through the bonds was not a work of difficulty. he soon found out this, but kept his own counsel, and held his hands rigidly behind him, as though they were bound too tightly to be moved. as he spoke he looked all around watchfully, so as to see his chances of escape. to slip his hands was easy whenever he chose. had it been himself alone that was concerned, he would have made a dash into the woods, and could have easily eluded pursuit. but he could not leave solomon; and so he waited in the hope that some favorable juncture might arrive when he could free his companion also.

the gaspereaugians now led them away across the brook that ran by the camp and took up their station on the other side, on that smooth, grass-grown slope which has already been mentioned. bart and solomon were put inside of a half-finished hut of spruce, which some of the boys had been building. through the interstices of the branches they could see the camp of the “b. o. w. c.” perfectly well. it was not far away, and the gaspereaugians were debating whether to go and pull it down now, or to wait until some more boys might come.

in the midst of this debate, bruce came upon the scene, with his companions; and they, after looking hastily around, had found themselves in the presence of the invading host. there stood bruce in full view of bart and solomon; his brows lowering darkly and menacingly, and a stern interrogation in his face, before which the gaspereaugians as first seemed to quail.

“what do you want here, you fellows?” said bruce, at last.

there was no reply for nearly a minute. the eyes of all the gaspereaugians were fixed upon the speaker, but no one answered.

at this moment, bart, finding himself unobserved, slipped his hands out of their bonds, and quickly untied those of solomon.

“now, sol,” he said, “there’s going to be a row. this is our chance. when i start, you follow. but don’t start till i do. mind, now!”

“yes, s’r,” said solomon, with his usual grin. “i’m yours till def,—slave or free,—live or dead,—sure’s a gun,—an ebber faitful!”

and now bart looked all around, waiting for a chance to start.

the gaspereaugians had forgotten all about their prisoners. other things far more exciting presented themselves. there stood bruce; and once more his lordly and imperious voice rang out,—

“what are you fellows doing here? away with you all—every one of you!”

bruce was tall, and broad-shouldered, and stout, and muscular. his hat sat loosely on his head, and his hair clustered in careless curls about his broad forehead. his eyes seemed to flash, and his thin nostrils quivered with disdain. he looked like a statue of apollo, as he stood there, in the glow of his youthful strength and beauty, and faced down his enemies. their very numbers, instead of overawing him, only served to rouse to the utmost the whole vigor of his soul, and stirred up his proud, bold spirit to a scornful self-assertion.

a movement now took place among the gaspereaugians, and murmurs passed through them. at length the big fellow who had been so fierce with bart went forward from out the crowd of his companions, to the place where bruce was standing by the pool of the camp. he was a big, hulking, clumsy, low-browed fellow, with a heavy gait and sullen face. he was taller and stouter than bruce, and evidently considered himself the champion of his party. as he approached, bruce stood, with folded arms, regarding him, while his lips curled into a smile.

“well,” he said, in a gay and careless tone, “what can i do for you?”

the big fellow clambered up the dam, and stood in front of bruce.

“whar’s bruce rawdon?” he said, looking round, and pretending not to know that he was there before him. “whar’s this bruce rawdon that youns brag on? put him down here, fur i want to hev a trial with him—i want to wrastle.”

“my good fellow,” said bruce, “i’m bruce rawdon, and i’m quite at your service. only you are mistaken if you think that we brag on any one. we’re not a bragging camp.”

the gaspereaugian looked at him, and made a ridiculous grimace.

“so this is bruce rawdon!” said he—“this here! wal, rawdon, let’s wrastle. we’ll decide who’s the best man. on’y take care of your close, my fine feller. i’m generally considered rough. yes, rough as a bar,—that’s what i be.”

“all right,” said bruce, quietly, and in a minute he had flung off his hat, coat, and waistcoat.

“i’ll keep my duds on,” said the gaspereaugian; “on’y that—that’s by way of defyin’.”

and saying this he flung his hat on the ground.

upon this the two champions prepared to grapple.

the place where they stood was a grass plot on one side of the pool. the pool was full to the brim. the “b. o. w. c.” stood on the dam. the gaspereaugians stood about twenty paces off. it was a moment of intense excitement.

for a few seconds they stood with extended arms, warily regarding one another. then bruce made a plunge forward, and before the other could guard against it, he had caught him around the waist, under his arms.

bruce had got the “underhold.”

the two were now locked in a close embrace, and for a few moments the big gaspereaugian made tremendous efforts to throw his antagonist. but the efforts were unsuccessful. bruce did not exert himself much, but quietly evaded the efforts of the other, and still held his adversary in an unrelaxing grasp.

the gaspereaugians now began to look anxious. bruce’s face was so calm, his action was so quiet, he seemed to make so little effort in spite of the immense exertions of his antagonist, that he appeared to show some vast reserve of strength in store, ready to be put forth at some sudden moment.

the gaspereaugian was, in truth, a big, burly fellow, whose muscles had been developed by a life of hard labor on a farm; but he was slow, and clumsy, and ignorant of all skill in wrestling. now, bruce was an adept in almost every active sport; while his limbs were so admirably knit, and his muscular development was so splendid, that even on the score of brute strength he soon gave evidence that he overmatched the other; at the same time, he made it apparent that his strength was only half put forth. the gaspereaugians grew more anxious every moment, while arthur, tom, and phil, who had never for an instant doubted the result, felt their excitement increasing to an unendurable degree.

bruce soon showed what his idea had been in these manoeuvres. he had now worked himself around, so that his back was towards the pool, and the gaspereaugian had made one violent effort to push him in backwards. it was in vain. bruce stood like a rock. then suddenly, as the gaspereaugian’s efforts slackened somewhat, bruce flung his right arm around him lower down, and by one quick and tremendous effort of strength raised him up into the air. in an instant the fellow’s legs spun upward; he appeared to turn a back summerset, and then,—down he went, all sprawling, on his back, with his arms and legs extended wildly, straight into the pool!

"no sound of joy or sorrow

arose from either bank,

but friends and foes, in dumb surprise,

with parted lips and straining eyes,

stood gazing where he sank.”

thus far the two prisoners had remained in confinement. they might easily have escaped; their hands were free, and no one was paying any attention to them, but they remained there. solomon would not go till bart led the way; and bart was too tremendously excited by the struggle to think of moving. he stood there rooted to the spot, staring with intense interest. at last the end came, and as bart saw the gaspereaugian’s legs go tossing up, and saw him fall splashing into the pool, he touched solomon, and, followed by him, he darted into the thick shrubbery. the basket of provisions stood there neglected; this bart seized as he passed, and gave it to solomon. after this they made a circuit to get to the camp.

meanwhile the discomfited wrestler had scrambled to his feet in the pool of water, and stood for a time up to his waist, sputtering, blowing, and gasping for breath. the boys stood looking on; and bruce watched him quietly, not knowing whether the struggle would be renewed or not. but the gaspereaugian did not make any advances towards resuming the conflict. he himself had been foiled so completely in his most desperate efforts, and the tremendous strength of those arms which had raised him in the air and flung him into the pool was so formidable to his imagination, that he was not at all inclined for another trial. the one trial had sufficed. so he slouched off, with his sulky face bent down, and soon joined his crestfallen companions.

scarcely had he joined them than a shout was heard near the camp. bruce and the other boys turned, and, to their delight and surprise, saw bart and solomon, with the basket of provisions.

“hurrah!” cried arthur; “why, bart, we were afraid you’d come to grief.”

“so we did,” said bart; “we were captured—we’re escaped prisoners of war.”

“captured! prisoners of war!” cried bruce.

“yes,” said bart.

“how?”

“about an hour ago we came up and fell into an ambush.”

“but how did you manage to get away?”

upon this bart told them all about it, and his story was received with unbounded delight, and gave rise to no end of fun. what was best was, the fact, not merely that they had escaped, but that they had brought off the basket also in safety.

suddenly bart looked at his watch.

“brethren of the ‘b. o. w. c.,’” said he, “it’s only sixteen minutes after four. thus, after so many adventures,—after ambushes, fights, and captivities,—we have succeeded in keeping our appointment, and are not more than sixteen minutes behind time.”

upon this solomon carried the basket into the camp, and the others followed, and prepared to take their lunch as coolly as if nothing had happened.

this was too much for the gaspereaugians. it was a bitter mortification for them to witness the defeat of their companion; it was equally aggravating to see their prisoners reach their friends, carrying with them their basket; and all this reached its climax when they saw the quiet preparations for a lunch.

they stood in that state of mind and body which is expressed by the remarkable word—dumb-foundered.

but what could they do?

hostilities did not seem to be very attractive now, for the defeat of their champion had greatly changed the aspect of affairs. to stand there stupidly looking on was also not quite the thing. they had come to indulge in a general triumph over the school—and this was the end! they hesitated for some time, and stood in doubt.

but their indecision was at last ended. their champion walked off silently and sulkily; and they, seeing the leader go, slowly filed away after him. and so—

exeunt omnes gaspereaugienses!