laughter. Sam now examined his sticks, they appeared all right to the
eye, but directly he felt them his astonishment was turned into rage.
They were perfectly soft. Taking out his knife he cut them open, and
found that the balls were merely filled with a wad of soft cotton, the
necessary weight being given by pieces of lead fastened round the end
of the stick inside the ball with waxed thread.

Sam was too enraged to say more than his usual exclamation of
astonishment, "Golly!" and he held out his drumsticks to be examined
with the face of a black statue of surprise.

Even the band-master was obliged to laugh as he took the sticks from
Sam's hand to examine them.

"These are not your sticks at all, Sam," he said, looking closely at
them. "Here, boy," he called to Tom, who might have been detected from
the fact of his being the only person present with a serious face,
"run to the band-room and see if you can find the sticks."

In a few minutes Tom returned with the real drumsticks, which, he
said truly, he had found on the shelf where they were usually kept.
After that things went on as usual; Sam played with a sulky fury. His
dignity was injured, and he declared over and over again that if he
could "find de rascal who did it, by jingo, I pound him to squash!"
and there was no doubt from his look that he thoroughly meant what he
said. However, no inquiries could bring to light the author of the
trick.