“I don’t believe they’re coming to-night, after all,” said Bert disappointedly, as he turned away from the window. He was dressed in his oldest trousers and wore a canvas football jacket. Hansel, propped on one elbow on the window seat, was similarly attired. It was long after supper, and twilight was fast deepening to dark. The stretch of road visible from the study window which they had been watching for almost an hour past was already merging itself with the surrounding gloom.

“We couldn’t see them now,” muttered Hansel, “if a whole army of Towners marched along it.”

“I’m going to light up,” said Bert disgustedly.

“Go ahead,” his roommate answered. “I guess you’re right, Bert. It’s to-morrow night, after all. I wish, though, that they’d come and have it over with. I can’t study now after having the raid in mind all day.”

“I don’t feel much like it myself,” Bert replied as he scratched a match loudly, “but I guess I’ll have to do it if I don’t want to get into trouble. That’s the worst about being on the team. Other fellows can get behind a bit in their studies and no one thinks anything about it, but just let one of the football——”

“Hist!” called Hansel sharply. “Blow out that match and come here, Bert!”

The match arched through the darkness like a miniature comet and fell in the grate with a shower of tiny sparks, while Bert, blinded by the sudden transition from light to gloom, went stumbling and bumping to the window.

“What is it?” he asked hoarsely.

“I don’t know,” answered Hansel doubtfully. “Perhaps I was mistaken.”

“Well, well, what was it?” the other demanded impatiently, as he peered out into the darkness.

“See that light stretch over there between the grand stand and the woods? Well, I could have sworn that I saw three figures cross there coming this way.”

“You couldn’t have,” said Bert. “It’s too dark to see anything. You imagined it, probably. Besides, what would three fellows be doing alone? There are eighty-four Towners this year, and when they come they’ll come in a big old bunch. I tell you what, Hansel; what you saw was probably some of our pickets. Gordon and Stark and two or three others are down that way somewhere.”

“Maybe that was it, then,” said Hansel. “Only I was sure I saw something. And they seemed to be sort of crouching along as though they didn’t want to be seen.”

“It was probably some of the pickets coming in. It’s eight o’clock; they won’t be up to-night.”

“Well, let’s go out for a few minutes,” said Hansel. “I can’t study now. I don’t see what good we could do up here, anyhow, if they did come!”

“Well, we wanted them to think we weren’t expecting them. That’s why we told the fellows to stay in their rooms and keep the gas lighted until they heard the alarm given. If they came sneaking up here and found us all standing around the yard waiting for them they might take it into their head to go back again. But it’s so dark now I guess they couldn’t see us, so come on. I’ll light up first, though. What the dickens did I do with that box of matches, I wonder? I had it a minute ago. See if I left it on the window sill there, will you? Here—oh, hang it! I’ve spilled them all over the floor!”

He scratched one of the troublesome matches under the edge of the mantel and turned toward the gas fixture. With one hand on the key of the nearest bracket and the other holding the flaring match he stood motionless, staring at Hansel’s face uncertainly visible in the half light.

“What was that?” he cried softly.

“What? I didn’t hear——”

“Listen!”

“School this way! School this way! School this way!”

Bert threw the match into the grate and leaped toward the door.

“Come on!” he cried. “They’re here!”

As he dashed out of the door, Hansel close behind him, the corridor and stairway were noisy with the tramping of many feet.

“Raid! Raid!” was the cry echoing through the building. Doors were crashing shut upstairs and down, and the valiant defenders were taking the stairs three or four at a time. Bert and Hansel joined the hurrying throng, and in a trice found themselves outside in the darkness. Overhead a few stars twinkled wanly. The unlighted bulk of Academy Building rose before them at a little distance and toward it they sped. But the cries of “School! School! School this way!” came from farther along toward Weeks. The steps of Academy were empty, and after a moment’s indecision, Bert and Hansel and a few others who had followed them turned away and hurried toward the rallying place. A crowd of some half hundred fellows had already gathered in front of Weeks, and in the dim light from the open doorway Hansel made out Harry Folsom, who seemed to be in charge of affairs.

“That you, Bert?” he cried, as they ran up. “They’re down there on the road. They’ll be in sight in a minute. They’ve got Johnny Parrish and they almost got Jones, but he escaped and gave the alarm. He says there doesn’t seem to be more than fifty of them. I say let’s meet them at the gate, break them up, and chase them back. What do you say?”

“All right! Come on!”

With a cheer the party moved toward the gate, a hundred yards away. Hansel, between a couple of fellows he didn’t know, for he had lost track of Bert in the confusion, felt his heart pounding excitedly. As they reached the edge of the school grounds, a cheer started from the head of the little army, and those behind, taking it up, pressed forward. At a little distance, a black blur in the surrounding gloom, were the invaders. Finding themselves discovered, they set up a defiant cheer of “Town! Town! Town!”

Then they moved forward again.

The defenders halted just outside the gates and awaited them silently. Nearer and nearer came the Towners until, when a dozen yards away, they broke into a run and, cheering wildly, dashed into the ranks of the Schoolers. In the instant confusion reigned. Cries of “School!” and “Town!” rang out. Hansel, in the center of the school army, was swayed hither and thither, jammed in between laughing, shouting fellows. For a moment the defenders gave before the impetus of the rush, but for a moment only. The Schoolers recovered and moved forward, the foe giving before them. Suddenly Hansel found himself toward the front of the school group, and a big town boy had him by his sweater and was striving to push him aside, shouting his battle cry of “Town! Town!” deafeningly in his ear. Hansel panted and shoved; those behind came to his rescue, and his opponent went struggling back again.

Then Hansel was in the thick of it. Hither and thither swayed the struggling mass, shouting, laughing, panting; now and then a sweater or jacket would give with a ripping sound, or a cap, the property of some misguided youth, went sailing away into the darkness. It was impossible to distinguish friend from foe, and so Hansel set his teeth and shoved and pushed forward with the rest of his side. There were no blows struck, or if there were, they were harmless and unintentional. Hansel was surprised at the good humor which prevailed in spite of the excitement. The Towners were yielding foot by foot now, and the cheers of the defenders arose triumphantly into the night air. But just when it seemed that in another instant the foe must break and run, a new and disturbing sound reached the defenders. From behind them, in the direction of Academy Building, came the loud challenging cry of “Town! Town! Town!”

“By Jove!” cried Harry Folsom. “They’ve fooled us! Back to the steps, fellows!”

The school forces turned in dismay and raced through the gate and back along the curving drive, the invaders, cheering lustily, close upon them. Hansel, as he ran, recollected the forms he had seen crossing behind the athletic field. The Towners had tricked them! While their main force had attacked openly by the road a smaller force had crept around by the woods on the other side and were now, judging from the sounds, in possession of the coveted steps! Yes, there they were, some twenty-five or thirty of them, shoulder to shoulder, on the steps of Academy, cheering loudly.

“Town! Town!” they shouted in unison.

“School! School! Drive them off!” cried the defenders as they raced toward them.

But at their heels came the main army of the invaders, cheering and laughing, and the Schoolers were literally caught between two fires. Up the first steps dashed the Schoolers and sought to pull down the enemy in possession of the stronghold. In a moment chaos reigned!

Up and down the steps flowed and ebbed the tide of battle. Towners were dislodged, but others sprang through the ranks of the school and took their places. Hansel fought his way to the front only to be hurled unceremoniously over the edge of the steps onto the turf. He picked himself up and sprang again into the swaying, shouting mass. It would have been much simpler had it been possible to distinguish friends from foes. As it was, the Towners when challenged shouted “School!” in order to reach their comrades on the steps, and the Schoolers, following suit, cried “Town! Town!” in order to fool the enemy.

Confusion reigned supreme then when the doors of Academy Building suddenly crashed open behind the little group of Towners holding the top steps, and the disconcerting yell of “School! School! School!” broke forth behind them. It was the Towners’ turn to be surprised. Out from the doorway dashed a handful of defenders and, shoving and shouting mightily, they took the invaders in the rear and scattered them like chaff. With cheers of triumph the Schoolers below took the place of the invaders, and in a moment the tide of battle had turned effectually. Quickly the Schoolers gathered their scattered forces on the steps and about them, while the Towners rallied again at the corner of the gymnasium.

There was a moment or two while hostilities ceased, and in that time Harry and the other leaders laid their plans hurriedly. Then, with a cheer, half of the defenders hurled themselves upon the invading forces. For a while the result of the charge was doubtful, but at last the enemy’s ranks were pierced and divided. Part of them fled along the road in front of the gymnasium and part scattered across the terrace, making for the green and the path to the village. Had they remained together they might easily have retired in good order and gained the village without further loss of prestige. But the sudden attack from the rear had dismayed them, and now, disorganized thoroughly, their only thought was to reach the village in safety. It was every man for himself, and the fleeing Towners were soon strung out without form or discipline, the fastest runners heading the rout.

Hansel was among the body of pursuers which charged across the terrace and the green in the wake of that portion of the invading force which had luckily chosen the shortest way home. Until the road was reached the Towners held well enough together to be able to resist any real attack. But once on the road the flight became a mad scramble for safety, in which every fellow thought only of himself. Then the pursuit caught up with the laggards and either sent them into the woods or fields or captured them and subjected them to such indignities as smearing their faces with handfuls of dust or depriving them by force of jackets or sweaters. As every fellow was careful to wear only the oldest things he possessed, the loss of the garments was more embarrassing than serious. Before the edge of town was reached, the pursuit had slackened. Some two dozen Schoolers, Hansel among them, paused, panting and laughing, and listened to the cries dying away on the road ahead of them. It was much too dark to distinguish faces, but Hansel recognized one or two fellows by their voices, and soon discovered that Harry Folsom was there.

“My,” said some one, “I haven’t any breath left! Let’s go home, fellows.”

“Get out!” said another. “What we want to do is to wait here for the rest of the Towners, and when they come jump out on them and scare them into fits.”

“That’s so! They’ll be along in a minute if they stick to the road.”

“Oh, they’ll stay on the road all right. Listen! They’re coming now!”

“Get down, fellows,” called Harry softly, “so they won’t see us!”

There was a minute of silent suspense while the group crouched in the darkness at the side of the road. Then came the pat, pat of footsteps up the road.

“It’s only one,” Harry whispered. “Wait till a bunch of them comes along.”

The runner jogged past, dimly visible, panting wearily, and silence followed. Then more footsteps sounded in the silence and in a moment a half-dozen fellows, very tired and short of breath, trotted up, and——

“Now!” whispered Harry.

With blood-curdling screams the party in ambush leaped out upon its quarry. The latter sought to escape but were quickly surrounded and captured; all save one, a big fellow named Cartwright, who managed to beat off the enemy and put a dozen yards between them and himself before they started in pursuit. Then Hansel and two other Schoolers went after him. Weary as he was, it was a short chase, and they soon had him at bay against the fence at one side of the road. But he didn’t propose to submit meekly to capture.

“You fellows touch me and you’ll get hurt!” he panted angrily. “Keep away now.”

“It’s Billy Cartwright!” exclaimed one of Hansel’s companions. “You’re our game, old chap, so you might as well give in.”

“You let me alone,” was the reply, “or there’ll be trouble!”

“He wants to fight,” said the Schooler. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Billy, to lose your temper. Look at us; we’re not angry!”

“That’s all right, but if you fellows think you can rough-house me, you’re mightily mistaken. I’m going home.”

“Oh, no, you’re not, Billy. We’re not through with you yet!”

“Keep off, I tell you!”

“Come on, fellows!”

The three sprang onto him together, and for a while there was a very lively tussle there by the fence. Cartwright fought like a tiger, thoroughly angry. Hansel received a blow from some one’s elbow that dazed him for a moment, but he clung hard to the victim’s legs, and in a moment Cartwright was down and they were on top of him listening to a torrent of abuse and threats.

“Oh, shut up,” said Hansel, a little out of temper now himself, since his nose was still aching with the blow he had received. “Can’t you take a joke? What’s the matter with you, anyhow?”

“Did you get him, fellows?” called Harry from up the road.

“Sure,” replied one of Hansel’s companions, “but he put up a dickens of a fight. What’ll we do with him?”

“Wanted to fight, did he?” asked Harry as he came up with two or three other fellows. “Who is it? Cartwright? Oh, Billy never could take a joke. We ought to show him how. There’s a brook over here somewhere. Do you think we can find it?”

“Easy!” answered some one. “Where is he? Hello, Billy! Still feeling scrappy?”

Cartwright replied that he was, only he didn’t confine himself to a simple statement of the fact. The Schoolers listened to him disgustedly.

“You make me tired, Billy,” said Harry at last. “Shut up or we’ll half drown you! Say, fellows, let those dubs go and come over here. There’s something doing.”

A moment later Cartwright was lifted over the fence, no easy task for his captors, since he still struggled fiercely, and was half pushed and half carried across the meadow. No one knew just where the brook lay, and it was finally discovered by one of the Schoolers stumbling into it.

“Are you sure this is it?” laughed Harry.

“Sure!” replied the fellow succinctly as he wrung the water out of his trousers. “And it’s good and wet, too!”

“All right then, fellows. Lift him up and when I give the word drop him gently into the seething caldron. All ready? Then—let—him—go!”

He went. There was a splash, a torrent of choking remarks from Cartwright, which was drowned by the laughter of the Schoolers, and then he was crawling out on the other side, dripping and somewhat subdued.

“Good night!” called Harry mockingly.

There was no reply save a growl as Cartwright stumbled away across the meadow toward town.

“Next time, Billy,” called another of his friends, “I advise you to keep your temper.”

Still laughing, the group made its way back to the road and turned toward school. As they went, now and then a group of two or three Towners passed. But they had had their troubles already and the fellows allowed them to go unmolested. But they were forced to listen to many jeering remarks, such as:

“’Rah for the Towners!”

“Great cheering on the steps, fellows!”

“Come again! Always glad to see you! And bring your friends; you’ll need them!”

Ordinarily, the fellows were required to be in the dormitories at nine o’clock and to have their lights out at ten, but on Raid Night the rules were relaxed, and so when they reached the campus, their cheers were answered by a throng in front of Academy, and a jubilation meeting was held there. Every few minutes late comers straggled up with new tales to tell. Almost everyone had some trophy of the chase in the shape of captured garments. The crowd was in a fair way to cheer itself hoarse when Mr. Foote appeared on the scene.

“Fellows, you must stop this now,” he said. “It’s almost eleven o’clock.”

They jeered good-naturedly and then sent up a cheer for him, and presently dispersed to the dormitories, Hansel, and possibly many others, to dream of the evening’s exciting adventures.