warning to give one of the boxes a flirt with his hand that moved it
out a foot or two.

As it happened to be the keystone of the arch, the consequence was the
entire pile came tumbling down, much after the fashion of a crumbling
church during an earthquake.

Bluff gave a wild shout, and sprang to a position of safety, to turn and
stare in astonishment at the remarkable result of the catastrophe.

From under the ruins a figure came crawling slowly, rubbing sundry places
about his legs and sides, where the sharp corners of the boxes had been
in cruel contact with his flesh.

"Why, it's Andy Lasher!" exclaimed Jerry, pretending to be wonderfully
surprised. "Where in the world did you come from--hiding in that drygoods
box, eh? Up to some of your old tricks, Andy, I guess. Going to carry off
the whole dry-goods emporium that time, perhaps?"

The boy managed to get upon his feet, though he continued to limp around
and rub his legs vigorously, as he whistled to keep from groaning.

Andy Lasher was known as the town bully, and many a time had he taken
delight in giving our four friends more or less trouble; Jerry and he had
always been at loggerheads, and could look back to half a dozen occasions
in the past where the contest for supremacy had brought them to the point
of battle.

Each time Andy was supposed to have gotten the better of the conflict,
though his friends thought he paid dearly for his victory; but Jerry