"You must be sure to take Auntie Merrill a prisoner," he commanded; "take her _alive_."
They promised not to let her escape. Then they set out once more. We climbed upon the fence, and watched for them to appear at the foot of the Merrill garden. Soon we saw them crossing my yard in Indian file. Rob mounted the fence, and looked over.
Then all three climbed the fence, crouched behind the hedge, and crept up the path to the quince bush. Rob whistled.
As soon as he heard this signal, Peter ordered us into the hostile territory. We dropped silently over the fence, and lay flat on our stomachs in the grass. Peter raised himself slightly on his arms and gazed at the stronghold.
Mrs. Muldoon had gone into the house for more clothes-pins.
Peter rose, waved his sword, and was just opening his mouth to order the charge, when an unexpected thing happened.
Auntie Merrill opened a side door of her house, walked out on the veranda, descended two steps, and proceeded slowly up the side path to the street. She was dressed in black as usual, with a lavender bonnet, and she carried a little parasol. She opened the garden gate, crossed the sidewalk, stepped into a carriage that was standing by the curb, and drove quietly away.
We had been baffled without having a chance to strike a blow. But there were still the house and the damsels. Ought we not continue on our expedition?
While we were considering this question, Katie Clancy appeared at a basement door, with a broom in her hand.
"Now, thin, clear outer here, ye little divils, or I'll be takin' the broom to ye!"
Peter was over the fence again in two seconds. Horace and I, like well-disciplined troops, did not let him precede us by more than an inch.
In a few moments the detachment under Rob Currier returned to headquarters.
"Let's go down to Plumbush an' go in swimmin'."
"What's the matter with Four Rocks?" suggested Peter.
"Oh, come on to Plumbush," Jimmy insisted,--"my uncle's goin' to drive down to the farm in the buckboard, an' we can get a ride with him, part way."
The question was put and carried without dissent, and the meeting stood adjourned.
It was sprung on me without any pretence of a fair warning. Rob Currier, Ed Mason, and I had just rounded up a herd of buffaloes in the back of my garden, and we were busily engaged in lassoing separate members of the herd before they should slip through the fence into Mr. Tilton's vegetable patch. Once let them get there and it would be well-nigh impossible, among the lettuce and tomatoes, ever to reduce them to submission. Your buffalo is tractable and decent on even turf, but when he gets all mixed up with vegetables he becomes a perfect nuisance.