Jake had taken advantage of his momentary freedom from attack to gather together a goodly pile of ammunition—shoes, tennis rackets, pinecones, pillows, and an empty wasp’s nest which Lefkowitz had collected as a specimen. Chink Towner had entrenched himself on the top of a bunk, from which fortified position he was able now and then to swipe the tumbling combatants over the head with a pillow. Little Peter Lister managed to give Fat Crampton a timely shove which sent him rolling between the legs of his battling tent-mates.
Objects of all sorts, from baseball bats to cakes of soap, flew through the air and landed in the low bushes outside the tent. Battle-cries and shouts of the wounded rent the calm Sunday afternoon air.
The fight was no longer a private contest. The action had become general. A whirling shoe had landed on “Kipper” Dabney, aide of Tent Nine next door, and he had immediately led his cohorts in a vengeful sally against their warlike neighbors. Somebody had refilled the empty water-pail and was methodically doing his bit to make sure that not one of the combatants was left undrenched. A scouting party from Tent Five had raced downhill and were swiftly pulling the blankets from every bunk and tossing them into the huckleberry bushes. Tent Ten was a battleground of whirling arms, tumbling bodies, and flying weapons, whereon no one knew his friend, and every boy fought for himself.
A shrill voice of command cut through the tumult. Unseen by the rioters, a short, erect man in scoutmaster’s uniform had appeared in their midst.
“Stop this at once! Put those things down! Attention!”
A boy on the outskirts of the group whistled in surprise. “Chickie! It’s Mr. Colby!” He dodged behind a tree and disappeared. Silently the boys from other tents faded from the scene, trying to look innocent and peaceful. In ten seconds the members of Tent Ten were left alone amid the ruins, under the stern gaze of Mr. Colby.
Eight boys guiltily straightened, heels together.
“You, Utway, drop that baseball bat! Now, what’s the meaning of this?”
The councilor’s keen eyes flashed from one face to the next. The sudden uproar had brought him running from his place at the leaders’ meeting on the porch of the lodge. As officer of the day, it was his duty to take charge of the camp program, inspect the tents, and assign merit points for the conduct of each tent-group. He took his duties most seriously; a short period of service in the National Guard had given him a mighty respect for military discipline; and his strictness at all times was well-known at Lenape.