In the ranks of Company A were Ritter, Coulter and Paxton.  Paxton had of late somewhat dropped the others, but Reff and Gus were as thick as ever.  They were now standing side by side.

“Say, I’d like to give it to Ruddy and those others,” muttered Coulter.

“So would I,” whispered Ritter in return.  “Confound ’em, I’d like to know if they really know the truth about the bicycles.”

“I don’t see how they found out; nobody was around when you fixed ’em up.”

“Maybe somebody was spying; that sneak of a Mumps, for instance.”

“If he was, and told on us, I’ll fix him for it.”

Both cadets were making snowballs near a hollow.  As Ritter scraped the snow up he uncovered several jagged stones.

“Say, look here!” he whispered, and pointed at the stones.  “Let’s fix up some special snowballs for Ruddy & Company!” he added with a knowing look at his crony.

“All right; but be careful you are not caught,” answered Gus Coulter.

Both cadets got down close to the jagged stones and adroitly slipped several of them into the snowballs they were making.

“Wait till we are pretty close,” directed Ritter.  “Then let drive for all you are worth.”

“Who will you aim at?”

“Ruddy and Ditmore.”

“All right, I’ll aim at Snow; and I’ll let Ruddy have one, too.”

Again came a ringing war-cry, and in a moment more the battle was continued.  Back and forth swayed the lines of cadets, first towards one end of the field and then towards the other.  It was plainly to be seen that the commands were about evenly matched.

“How long is this battle to last?” questioned Joe Nelson.

“Half an hour,” answered Fred Century, who was beside him.

“Time is almost up, then,” came from Bert Field, who had been fighting so hard he was almost out of breath.

“Five minutes more!” came from the referee.  “Now then, if either side is going to do something, pitch in!”

“Forward!” came simultaneously from both captains, and forward plunged Company A and Company B, and the snowballs commenced to fly as thickly as before.  Neither side would give ground, and at last the two lines were within fifteen to twenty feet of each other, right in the center of the field.

The time was almost up, and each command was getting rid of the last of the snowballs, when Jack saw a snowball leave Coulter’s hand and sail swiftly towards Pepper.  The Imp did not see it until it was quite close to him and failed in his attempt to dodge.  The snowball hit him full in the temple and over he went as if struck with a club.

“Pepper!” cried the young major in horror, and started to rush to his chum’s assistance, when another snowball came flying through the air.  It struck Jack over the ear, and he, too, went down, all but knocked unconscious.

A bugle blew, and the great snowballing contest came to an end.