There was no time to argue further with himself. He knew that he had been asleep, for how long he could not tell; but his heart throbbed as he felt that he had awakened just in the nick of time, and he was about to act.

Keeping in a stooping position, he crept forward foot by foot without making a sound, till he was on the edge of the walk which extended to right and left; beyond it there was about six feet of border, and then the wall with the tree, and almost within reach the figure, more plain to see now, as it bent down evidently searching upon the ground for fallen pears.

One stride--a stride taken quick as thought, with the stout hazel stick well raised in the air, just as the figure was stooping lowest. Then--

_Whoosh! Thwack_!

A stinging blow, given with all the boy's nervous force, as with a bound he threw all his strength into the cut.

"Yah!"

A tremendous yell, a rush, and before Tom could get more than one other stroke to tell, the pear-seeker was running along the soft border, evidently making for the far corner of the garden, where the fence took the place of the wall.

The chord is shorter than the arc; and this applies to walks in gardens as well as geometry, only people generally call that which amounts to the chord the short cut.

Tom took the short cut, so as to meet Pete, but in the darkness he did not pause to think. For a moment all was silent, and the enemy had evidently stopped to hide.

"But he must be close here," thought Tom, as he reached the end of the cross walk, past which he felt that the boy must come; and to startle him into showing where he was Tom made a sudden rush.

That rush was made too quickly; for he felt himself seized, and before he could do anything, whack! whack! came two cuts on one leg.

"Got yer then, have I?" was growled in his ear; and then came loudly, "Master Tom! here! sharp!"

"I am here," roared Tom. "What are you doing? Don't."

"Master Tom!"

"David! But never mind; look sharp! He's close to us somewhere. I saw him under the pear-tree, and got one cut at him."

"Got two cuts at him," growled David savagely. "I know yer did. That was me!"

"Halloo there! Tom! David! Got him?"

"Got him!" growled David. "Got it, you mean. Hi! Yes, sir. Here we are."

Uncle Richard was on the way down the path.

"What was the meaning of that yell I heard?" he said, as he drew near.

Neither replied.

"Do you hear, Tom? What was that noise?"

"It was a mistake, uncle," cried Tom, rubbing his leg.

"Mistake? I said that yell. Oh, here you are."

"Yes, uncle; it was a mistake. I hit David in the dark, and he holloaed out."

"And enough to make any one, warn't it, sir? Scythes and scithers, it was a sharp 'un!"

"I don't think it was any sharper than the two you hit me, David," said Tom, who was writhing a little as he rubbed.

"Why, you two have never been so stupid as to attack each other in the dark, have you?" said Uncle Richard.

"I'm afraid so, uncle. I saw something by the tree and heard a rustling, and I thought it must be Pete Warboys."

"But you should ha' spoke, sir," cried David, from over the other side now. "Mussy on us, you did hit hard."

"Yes; I thought it was Pete, and that he had come at last."

"Come at last!" grumbled David, as Uncle Richard stood silently shaking with laughter. "Why, he's been--"

Just then there was a scratching sound, a flash of light, and a match burned brightly beneath the wall. Then another was struck, throwing up David's figure against the pear-tree, as, shielding the burning splint with his hands, he held it quickly up and down.

"What are you doing?" said Uncle Richard, as Tom gave a stamp caused by the pain he felt.

"Looking for my pears, sir, as I was when young Master Tom come and hit me. There arn't a single one left."

"What!" cried Tom, forgetting the stinging of the cuts on his leg. "Oh, David, don't say they're all gone!"

"What shall I say then, sir?" grumbled David; and he then drew in his breath with a hissing sound, and began to rub too.

"Do you mean to say the pears have been stolen while you two were keeping watch?"

"I dunno, sir," grumbled David. "They're not here now; and I'll take half a davy as they was here at arpus eight."

"Then be off home to bed. Pretty watchmen, upon my word," cried Uncle Richard, as he turned off to go up to the house; "it's my belief that you have both been asleep."

"And I'm afraid that there's about as near the truth as any one can get, Master Tom," whispered David. "I must ha' been mortal tired to-night.

But you needn't have hit a fellow quite so hard."

"That's what I feel, David; but being so stupid: that's worse than the stick."

"Well, I dunno 'bout that, sir," said David, still rubbing himself; "them hazels is werry lahstick, and you put a deal o' muskle into that first cut."

"Well," said Tom mournfully, "I did hit as hard as I could, David."

"You did, Master Tom, and no mistake. Feels to me it must have cut right in. But I don't like the master to talk like that. It arn't nice."

"Come, Tom! Fasten the gate!" shouted Uncle Richard.

"Yes, uncle; I'm coming. Now, David, off home."

"Yes, sir, I'm a-goin'; but after all this trouble to lose them pears.

Oh, Master Tom, it's that there as makes me feel most sore!"

But David kept on rubbing himself gently all the same.