“Now, what’s going to become of you, old Look-before-you-leap?”

“Mud-turtles can only sit on a stump and bawl till they are taken off, but frogs have legs worth something, and are not afraid of a little water,” answered Ben, hopping away in an opposite direction, since the pools between him and Sam were too wide for even his lively legs.

Sam waddled off to the brook above the marsh to rinse the mud from his nether man before facing his mother, and was just wringing himself out when Ben came up, breathless but good-natured, for he felt that he had made an excellent bargain for himself and friends.

“Better wash your face; it’s as speckled as a tiger-lily.  Here’s my handkerchief if yours is wet,” he said, pulling out a dingy article which had evidently already done service as a towel.

“Don’t want it,” muttered Sam, gruffly, as he poured the water out of his muddy shoes.

“I was taught to say ‘Thanky’ when folks got me out of scrapes.  But you never had much bringing up, though you do ’live in a house with a gambrel roof,’” retorted Ben, sarcastically quoting Sam’s frequent boast; then he walked off, much disgusted with the ingratitude of man.

Sam forgot his manners, but he remembered his promise, and kept it so well that all the school wondered.  No one could guess the secret of Ben’s power over him, though it was evident that he had gained it in some sudden way, for at the least sign of Sam’s former tricks Ben would crook his little finger and wag it warningly, or call out “Bulrushes!” and Sam subsided with reluctant submission, to the great amazement of his mates.  When asked what it meant, Sam turned sulky; but Ben had much fun out of it, assuring the other boys that those were the signs and pass-word of a secret society to which he and Sam belonged, and promised to tell them all about it if Sam would give him leave, which, of course, he would not.

This mystery, and the vain endeavors to find it out, caused a lull in the war of the wood-pile, and before any new game was invented something happened which gave the children plenty to talk about for a time.

A week after the secret alliance was formed, Ben ran in one evening with a letter for Miss Celia.  He found her enjoying the cheery blaze of the pine-cones the little girls had picked up for her, and Bab and Betty sat in the small chairs rocking luxuriously as they took turns to throw on the pretty fuel.  Miss Celia turned quickly to receive the expected letter, glanced at the writing, post-mark and stamp, with an air of delighted surprise, then clasped it close in both hands, saying, as she hurried out of the room: 

“He has come! he has come!  Now you may tell them, Thorny.”

“Tell us what?” asked Bab, pricking up her ears at once.

“Oh, it’s only that George has come, and I suppose we shall go and get married right away,” answered Thorny, rubbing his hands as if he enjoyed the prospect.