2/3/1918

WHAT are you doing there, John?"

The boy slid off his perch on the window sill and seated himself on the wide seat, holding his hands behind him.

"Nothing, sir'." he replied,

His father strode over to the window and gently drew one of the boy's hands from behind him.

"The other one," he demanded.

Reluctantly the little fellow presented his other hand, in which he held a pair of marine glasses.   "How many times have I forbidden you to take those glasses from my desk?" asked his father.  The boy remained silent and tried to look unconcerned. "And what on earth were you looking at?" continued the man, adjusting the glasses as he held them to his eyes.

"Ah, of course, the river.  You wanted to get down there and join the boys, didn't you?”   And mother says you must stay in because you spilled molasses all over the dining room carpet, and you are trying to see what the boys are doing down there with the aid of these glasses, eh?"

Johnny s face beamed with an exectant look as he watched his father.

“You see them, don't you dad -- where that pile of snow is?  They're after my fort.  We built it this morning; I made the plans for it.  They said they’d knock it down before it got dark.”

“Who are ‘they?’” asked the man, still looking through the glasses at the frozen river and the pile of snow on the near side.

"The boys from the other side,” replied Johnny.  "They don't like us boys on this side of the river.  They stoned us last summer when we went swimming. Gregory Hawkins’ canoe was found in the bushes and set afloat by them and he never did get it back.  They’re just jealous of us, I guess.  They had a little fort Sunday and when we built ours this morning it was much bigger and finer than theirs, and they threw snowballs at us. One of the snowballs had a stone in it, and it knocked down one parapet and  hit Tom Wingfield on the head and cut him.  That made mad and we ran across and chased them away.  They ran and said they would get our snow house to-night.  They know we are not allowed out after dark.”

The father listened to this long explanation with some patience while he continued to gaze out the window through the glasses.  Inwardly he chuckled over the pluck displayed by his son and the boys on his side of the river.

"Johnny, he said at length,  “you go out and protect your snow house.  Remember, I don't cancel your mothers orders.  But from what I see through these glasses, the boys from the other side are dismantling your fort.   It's proper that you should be there to stop it I suppose.  So you may go out for an hour.  In that time you should be able to take steps to insure the safety of the fort for the night.”

Johnny thanked his father profusely as he hustled into his toboggan cap and sweater coat.

"Watch me, dad," he yelled back ever his shoulder as he left the  porch, "I'll hold the fort."

The river was frozen over.  A month of cold weather that broke all records in that community had made the narrow stream a solid road of ice.  Heavy snows coming at short intervals had laid the village under a white blanket three feet deep.  The boys were having the time of their lives.  Across the river, however were a husky lot of youngsters who came from a settlment of squatters. These boys were jealous  of themore refined neighbors across the stream and did all in their power to torment them.         

 Hawkins saw Johnny approaching  from a distance.  He gave him the familiar shout, “Halloo!” andi in a second there emerged from the snow hut on the edge of the ice a dozen boys, who hailed their leader with cheers.

“They’re giving it to us, Johnny,” explained Hawkins and we don’t seem able to give it back. Watch out there, duck!”

With one accord the boys fell on their knees as a good-sized missile of snow and ice came hurtling through the air.

“How on earth can they throw that heavy thing so far?" asked Bill Darby, picking up the heavy ball of snow.  "Look here, fellows, how far could any of you sail this?"

Johnny gave a grunt of contempt.  “I'll bet they've made a catapult and shot it over.  That's what they've done, too—there comes another; duck it!”

Once more the group were on their knees.  This time the whistling shot hit the fort squarely, leaving a gaping hole in the side and toppling over one of the little towers that had taken so long to fashion and to build, and it made Johnny feel like crying.

But he didn't.

“You boys get busy making snow balls, he directed.  "When we have a few hundred, we'll attach them and scatter their old fort in all directions."

Like a little general he mounted the remaining parapet of his snow fortress, and peeking behind the parapet watched with interest the activities going on across the river, while the other boys hurriedly formed snowballs in the shelter of the rear wall.  He could observe the group on the other side gathering snow, which they formed into large balls, carrying them inside the rude hut which served as their  fort.  Through a little window in its front wall he also observed a fellow holding back a curved board; another placed the big snowball upon its tip; the next ininute there was a swish through the air and the big ball as coming at him with remarkable

Speed.  It fell into the enclosure and buried itself in the snow.

“Foul ball!” yelled Johnny, as he darted down and ran beside the fort to see how the boys were progressing.  A neat bushel of snowballs lay piled up against the wall. 

“There’s half a hundred, Johnny”, sang out Darby.  “Let’s go after ‘em?”

“Not enough,” returned the little general.  “Make a hundred more and each boy take an armful.  Then come around to where I am standing, but don't let ‘em see you.”

Again he he mounted his watching place.  In a few minutes, the boys came quietly over and reported the required number of snow balls completed.

"Now, everyone keep out of sight.  Let them think we’ve gone home.  Then when I give the signal, follow me.  Don't waste any snowballs.  Make each one count."

A half dozen more shells from the enemy came over at regular intervals.  Then, as if feeling their work was being spent on an empty fort, the bombardment stopped and faces began to appear at the openings of the rude hut across the ice.  Gradually more of each boy appeared, until at last the entire group was out upon the ice in front of their hut.  They drew together in a whispered council, and then they began a dog trot for the enemy fort.

Johnny was watching them from behind the parapet.  He was at first unable to understand their bold maneuver. They came quietly and quickly, each one seeming to know just what he was expected to do.  There was just barely time for Johnny to scamper behind the fort where his boys were waiting when the two foremost squatters laid hands upon the very parapet where he had been standing and lifted it from its base, speeding away with it and planted it upon ono corner of their own hut.

“What do you think of that?" whispered Hawkins.  Johnny held up his finger, motioning, him to be quiet.

Piece by piece the fort was being carried away to the other side of the river.  When Johnny could stand it no longer he game the word.

“Out after them fellows.  Give it to ‘em heavy.  Make every shot count."

With a wild yell the little band was out upon the marauders.  With surprise they stopped for an instant, but the bombardment of snowballs was too much for them and they turned and scampered back toward I their own side.  Johnny's little regiment dogged them, pelting them with snowballs at every step.  Before the little hut they stopped.  The enimy had taken shelter there, and the snowballs were  giving out.

“Turn back,” ordered Johnny, "Get more snowballs.

They followed orders.  Hawkins, however slipped and fell. In a moment the little savages were upon the fallen boy.  Johnny alone turned to help him.  In a trice the little mob was upon him.  He fought them back and yelled:

“Run for it Hawkins. Never mind about me.”

Hawkins ran for it.  He was just far enough in front of his pursuers to evade their grasp.  The other boys, having lost their leader were confused and bewildered, and kept on running toward the village.  Near the main street the sound of pursuing feet died out and they halted, puffing and tired, waiting for Hawkins to catch up. 

“They did us sure,” said Darby.

“Not enough snowballs,” remarked Hawkins.  “It’s getting dark.  You fellows better be trotting along home.

Upon the heels of such a disgraceful defeat what better thing than to go home and forget it?  Therefore, that is what they did—all except Hawkins.  He did not know what to do.  He decided to wait until Johnnycame back, and together they would plan a reprisal for the following day. 

But no Johnny came back.  It was growing dusk, and the deepening shadows had many terrors for him.  He did not like to be out after dark.  But he would stay until Johnny could go home with him.

After a dreary wait, and when night had actually come, he stole stealthily down to the river.  Not sound was to be heard.  Not a face peered out of the ruddy glow cast by the dying embers of the fire which the enemy had built    beyond their hut.  A chill ran up Hawkins’s spine.

"Johnny," he sang out, softly.  No answer.  A dog barked from one of the squatters' cabins.  The moonlight fell across the frozen river, and Hawkins gave a start of surprise as his eyes rested on a magnificent house of snow where before the rude hut had stood.  The squatters had used all of the arts of their neighbor across the ice, and the but had been transformed into the finest looking snow fort that  Hawkins had ever seen.  It had been built much higher and wider; the parapets that had graced the fort of Johnny’s regiment had been duplicated on the four corners of the new structure.  There was only one opening—a small, square window near the top.

"I’ll fix it," muttered Hawkins.  He glanced around hurriedly.  A spade lay upon the snow, and he grasped it and ran across the ice.  He set to work at once digging into the wall of the great fort. It was packed pretty hard, but the snow gave way slowly to the sharp blade of the spade.  He intended to dig into it deeply all around and cave it in.  It was hard work, however, and he finally pushed the spade clean through the wall at his starting place, and then, out of breath,he blew into his hands and whistled.

“Golly Moses!” he exclaimed.

Then he stood stock still as if he had been struck.  The next instant he was prepared to run.  Something had frightened him.   The spade had disappeared through the hole he had made.  But he was too frightened to move.  Suppose they were all hiding in there, waiting for him to make his way in?

“Hawkins!   That you, Hawkins?"

It was a voice from inside—Johnny’s voice.  The next instant a face peered through the opening Hawkins had made.

“Wait a minute, Hawkins.  I'll be right out."

The spade showed itself diligently digging the hole larger.  In a few seconds Johnny wriggled through.

"Thanks Hawkins,” he said, "you saved me from being in there all night.  The villains snowed me in—built it up al1 around me.  I tried to dig through with my hands, but my fingers froze.”

Hawkins was too surprised to speak,  He stood staring at Johnny’s face as if he were a ghost.

“Did they do that?" he blurted out at last.

"You  don't to think I'd do it myself do you?" retorted Johnny.  "Come on quick, and help me now; my daddy'll   be coming for me in a few minutesv from now.  What do you think we should do?”

"Run home,” said Hawkins, shivering.

“First help me ccollect some of those bushes from the bank.”  Together they scurried about shaking the snow from the bushes, breaking off twigs that seemed to snap loudly enough to wake the whole squatter settlement.  But they did not care who heard.  They collected sufficient firewood to completely suround the fort.

"Got any paper?" asked Johnnny.

“Got  my funny sheets," replied Hawkins, producing from his overcoat pocket several worn comic  supplements.  Hawkins was fond of Sunday  comic supplements and he had a big collection, several of which he always carried with him for the benefit of those in his crowd who to enjoy them.

All around the fort the firewood was piled, care being takenthat the melting snow would not fall upon the fire.  Then the bonfire was lighted, and the boys sped across the ice to the ruins of their own fort.  There they stood and watched the flames spring up, making a bright light and  causing quite a commotion in the squatters’ cabins.  The fort began to melt where the heat ate into its foundation, and finally the walls fell into a shapeless pile of snow.

“Well, Hawkins,” said Johnny.  Hawkins stood straight and saluted his captain.

“We have destroyed their stronghold,” he said, quioting the line he had memorized from his father’s newspaper. 

Then they ran for home.  Johnny’s father met them half way.

"You had better hurry home, son." he said "before mother finds that I allowed you out. I thought never coming back, and I said you could be gone only an hour."

"I was held prisoner, replied Johnny.   Of course his father smiled and thought it was mere child's play.  But he didn't know how serious it was, nor how close Johnny came to being out all night, had it not been for faithful Hawkins.

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