seat was almost at the summit of the tree, and behind it was firmly
lashed a flagpole, with a Union Jack hanging limply in the still
air, and a lantern with green and red glass on two of its sides.
Near the door of the little house there hung from a stout branch a
curious-looking canvas bag, broadly tubular in shape, and with a
small brass tap at the lower end. The tree was thickly foliaged, but
the leaves were delicate and lacy, and, though they formed an
admirable screen for the climbers, a good view of the surrounding
country was to be obtained between them, and even through them in
some places. Mollie decided to climb to the top and look about.

"That's our look-out," Hugh explained. "We can see the enemy from
there a long time before the enemy can see us."

"'O Pip', is what _we_ call it," said Mollie. "Who is the enemy?"

"It all depends," Hugh replied evasively. "Now, Prue, look alive."

Mollie was a level-headed climber when she had something reasonably
solid beneath her feet; no one unfamiliar with the vagaries of the
green ladder could be expected to climb it with enthusiasm. She
crawled out of the house by the little door again, found her road to
the nearest staircase, and climbed this way and that among the leafy
branches till she reached the Look-out. There she settled herself
comfortably and examined her surroundings near and far, whilst the
other two laid the carpet and tacked up the blanket, now cut into
three strips by Prudence.

"She looks as if she were hemming sheets for missionaries," Mollie
said to herself, as she watched Prudence doing execution on the