Bart and Solomon fall into an Ambush, and after a desperate Resistance are made Prisoners.—Bonds and Imprisonment.—Bruce and the Gaspereau-gians.—A Challenge, a Conflict, and a Victory.—Immense Sensation among the Spectators.—The Prisoners burst their Bonds.—Their Flight.—Recovery of the Spoils of War.

MEANWHILE Bart and Solomon had been having their own little adventure. They had left the Academy at half past three, so as to have everything ready for the boys by four o’clock. For this purpose Solomon carried a basket of provisions, filled with those multiform and very attractive dishes which his rare culinary genius never failed to create whenever a fitting occasion demanded it.

So they ascended the hill, and crossed the old French orchard, and descended into the gully, and went up the other side into the woods, and then walked along the path towards the camp.

Suddenly, as they came to a place where the path turned to the left, there was a loud shout; and in an instant they were surrounded by some twenty or thirty boys. The boys were rough and wild. They were dressed in homespun. They were strong-limbed, red-cheeked, horny-handed, burly fellows; and they threw themselves violently upon Bart and Solomon.

Bart struggled bravely; but what could he do against so many? In his desperate struggles he managed to knock down one or two of them; but before long he was lying down, first on his back, and then on his face, and his hands were tied behind him. Then he was allowed to get up. He did so, and found himself none the worse for the rough-and-tumble fight which he had been indulging in. A pang, however, came to his generous heart as he saw Solomon with his hands tied; and another pang, also, as he saw two of the Gaspereaugians carrying off the basket with all its precious store of provisions.

But in spite of his situation, Bart did not for a moment lose heart.

“Couldn’t you have managed it with less than thirty?” he said, quietly, to the Gaspereaugians. “Wouldn’t twenty have done to attack me and old Solomon?”

The Gaspereaugians looked sulky at this.

“Ten, I should say,” resumed Bart. “Ten Gaspereaugians ought to be enough for one of us; and if so, why bring thirty? Answer me that. You won’t? Very well. All the same.”

“Here, young chap,—you dry up!” growled a big Gaspereaugian, who was near him. “Ten of us? I’ll show you that I’m a match fur any ten o’ youns. That wull I jist. So dry up!”

“It’s quite right to keep me tied up,” resumed Bart, cheerily. “I might do you harm, and I only wonder you don’t tie my feet too. You wouldn’t be safe if my hands were loose,—of course. But, my Gaspereaugian friends, why bind the hands of my aged companion? He won’t hurt you. He’s one of your own people. His home is in your own charming valley. You all know old Solomon. I guarantee that he shall not harm one of you. So, my friends, unbind his aged hands.”

“You shut your mouth,” growled the big Gaspereaugian, “or I’ll precious soon make you. I know you,—young f’ler,—no humbug! You’re the chap that blacked my eye with a snowball last winter.”

“Was it you?” said Bart, with a laugh. “That is capital! If I wasn’t tied up, I’d insist on shaking hands with you. And did I black your eye? Ha, ha, ha! I never knew that before. It was a capital shot. I remember, now that you mention it. But look here—you gave me something back. You gave me a snowball that set my nose bleeding for half an hour; and that, I think, was about the only blood that was shed in all our battles.”

Bart spoke with such jolly carelessness, and such good humor, that his fun was contagious, and the Gaspereaugians burst into a roar of laughter. Even the big fellow who had threatened him joined in the laugh, and a murmur went round among them to the effect that this prisoner wasn’t a bad fellow.

“Solomon,” said Bart, “Solomon, my sable friend, how do you feel?”

“Tip top,” said Solomon, with a grin. “Solomon?”

“Yes, s’r.”

“They’re going to tie us up tighter. They’re so afraid of us! Do you think you can stand it?”

“Stan it? Yes, s’r. ’Tain’t nuffin. All same to an ole niggar like me. I knows ebery one ob dem. I’m Gasperojum myself.”

“Fellow-citizens,” said Bart, “and gentlemen of the Gaspereaux Valley, I appeal to your chivalry! Is it generous, or noble, or chivalrous, to bind the hands of my aged friend? I’ll give my word that he shan’t knock down more than a dozen of you, if you let him loose. Come now, aren’t there a dozen of you that will be willing to be knocked down for the sake of alleviating the woes of an aged, a virtuous, and an occasionally rheumatic African? Besides, you don’t know what he is. He’s not a common person. He’s a Grand Panjandrum.”

“O, you Panjer danjer yerself, an see how you like it!” growled the big Gaspereaugian, who felt some slight fear that Bart was making fun of him.

“See here,” said Bart; “since you’ve tied us up, hadn’t you better tie up that basket of provisions, too? If you haven’t got any cord, you may take what I have.”

This was received with roars of laughter, to which Bart listened with unaltered placidity.

Meanwhile, as Bart had been speaking, he had been trying his fetters, and found them not so tight but that he could work his hands free. His jests about their tying his hands made the Gaspereaugians ashamed to secure them more tightly. Some of them, indeed, were in favor even of untying him. But Bart had been hurriedly bound, and his hands were small, so that to slip them through the bonds was not a work of difficulty. He soon found out this, but kept his own counsel, and held his hands rigidly behind him, as though they were bound too tightly to be moved. As he spoke he looked all around watchfully, so as to see his chances of escape. To slip his hands was easy whenever he chose. Had it been himself alone that was concerned, he would have made a dash into the woods, and could have easily eluded pursuit. But he could not leave Solomon; and so he waited in the hope that some favorable juncture might arrive when he could free his companion also.

The Gaspereaugians now led them away across the brook that ran by the camp and took up their station on the other side, on that smooth, grass-grown slope which has already been mentioned. Bart and Solomon were put inside of a half-finished hut of spruce, which some of the boys had been building. Through the interstices of the branches they could see the camp of the “B. O. W. C.” perfectly well. It was not far away, and the Gaspereaugians were debating whether to go and pull it down now, or to wait until some more boys might come.

In the midst of this debate, Bruce came upon the scene, with his companions; and they, after looking hastily around, had found themselves in the presence of the invading host. There stood Bruce in full view of Bart and Solomon; his brows lowering darkly and menacingly, and a stern interrogation in his face, before which the Gaspereaugians as first seemed to quail.

“What do you want here, you fellows?” said Bruce, at last.

There was no reply for nearly a minute. The eyes of all the Gaspereaugians were fixed upon the speaker, but no one answered.

At this moment, Bart, finding himself unobserved, slipped his hands out of their bonds, and quickly untied those of Solomon.

“Now, Sol,” he said, “there’s going to be a row. This is our chance. When I start, you follow. But don’t start till I do. Mind, now!”

“Yes, s’r,” said Solomon, with his usual grin. “I’m yours till def,—slave or free,—live or dead,—sure’s a gun,—an ebber faitful!”

And now Bart looked all around, waiting for a chance to start.

The Gaspereaugians had forgotten all about their prisoners. Other things far more exciting presented themselves. There stood Bruce; and once more his lordly and imperious voice rang out,—

“What are you fellows doing here? Away with you all—every one of you!”

Bruce was tall, and broad-shouldered, and stout, and muscular. His hat sat loosely on his head, and his hair clustered in careless curls about his broad forehead. His eyes seemed to flash, and his thin nostrils............