on our side of the stream, and make an unexpected attack upon the
invaders as they crossed. As we started, however, I bethought me of an
ingenious stratagem which I had read of as being practised in the German
wars, and having expounded it to the great delight of my companions,
we took Mr. Chillingfoot's saw, and set off for the seat of action.

On reaching the bridge all was quiet and still. It was quite dark and
very cold, for Christmas was approaching. There were no signs of our
opponents. We exchanged a few whispers as to who should do the daring
deed, but as the others shrank from it, and as I was too proud to
propose what I dare not execute, I gripped the saw, and sitting
astraddle upon the plank set to work upon the very centre of it.

My purpose was to weaken it in such a way that, though it would bear the
weight of one, it would collapse when the main body of our foemen were
upon it, and so precipitate them into the ice-cold stream. The water
was but a couple of feet deep at the place, so that there was nothing
for them but a fright and a ducking. So cool a reception ought to deter
them from ever invading us again, and confirm my reputation as a daring
leader. Reuben Lockarby, my lieutenant, son of old John Lockarby of the
Wheatsheaf, marshalled our forces behind the hedgerow, whilst I sawed
vigorously at the plank until I had nearly severed it across. I had no
compunction about the destruction of the bridge, for I knew enough of
carpentry to see that a skilful joiner could in an hour's work make it
stronger than ever by putting a prop beneath the point where I had
divided it. When at last I felt by the yielding of the plank that I had
done enough, and that the least strain would snap it, I crawled quietly
off, and taking up my position with my schoolfellows, awaited the coming
of the enemy.