out from a dozen spots among the shrubbery of the bluff side, where one-half of the crowd had secretly placed themselves. At the end of every line they had some new hoots and calls.
A hideous babel rang out at the end of the song.
Dudley, however, stuck manfully to his task. As he sounded the last note something whizzed through the air. It was then that Clarence laughed.
Some flying missile came whirling towards the bonfire. Then another, and another. The first one landed directly in the open mouth of the singer.
Swish-chug-splatter!
Dudley seemed to swallow the last note of the song. The second missile landed on the nose of the "chairman" of the crowd, Dave. The surprise and the force sent him backwards, and he landed flat on his back on the sand.
"Yah-yahoo! Bob! bing! boo! Biggity-baggity, Blue! Blue! Blue!"
This was the war-cry adopted by "The Blues," as the Burr crowd had dubbed themselves. A regular shower of missiles began to rain down from the top of the bluff.
"Tomatoes!" gurgled Dave, rubbing his face.
"And ripe ones, too!" added Clarence, with a grimace.
"Give them the chase!" said Bob.
"No, they'll round on us and spoil our campfire," said Dave.
The triumphant cries of "The Blues" died away in the distance. Then Dave suggested a game.
The crowd was divided. A space about twenty feet either side of the fire was marked with stakes. It was a sort of "Hunt the Gray," only that one side was given time to disappear in the darkness. They could hide along the beach, or in among the shrubbery of the bluff side, as they chose.
Six of the party held "the fort," as the staked-off space
