The Camanches reasoned that these doors might
be as effectual in shutting off teachers as fire; and the staples in
both the second and third stories were one day withdrawn, so that these
doors could be easily closed.
Scouting parties reported that the Camanches were getting ready the
war-paint,--_i.e._, the burnt cork,--and one ferocious savage had
intimated that they should spare neither age nor sex.
A council was immediately held in Fred Hart's room, and Fred
unanimously chosen chief.
"If they're determined on a pillow-fight they shall have it,"
resolutely remarked that warrior.
The Diggers proposed using their own pillows as reserve arms only, and
the next day any number of this tribe might have been seen scouring the
village on mysterious errands, which the housewives would have
explained as an effort to buy up old pillows.
"All's fair on the defensive," said Chief Fred, and each Digger ripped
open one end of his pillow, poured in a little mucilage, and then
basted it up, in accordance with the liberal views boys always
entertain concerning "basting."
At a little after nine o'clock, when the lights had been extinguished,
and a teacher made the nightly rounds, a Camanche scout quietly closed
and bolted the iron doors and relighted the hall lamps.
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