cover!" And on they came with a rush, throwing their snowballs with all the accuracy possible. The severe onslaught demoralized the other army for the time being, and two boys broke and ran—then half a dozen more—and then the whole army.
"Stop! Turn and face 'em!" yelled Sam. "Give it to 'em hot!" But this was not to be, for the reason that the Blues were out of ammunition. They ran close to the woods, but were driven from that cover by a flank movement, and then took to the field, trying to manufacture snowballs as they ran.
"We've got 'em going—don't let up!" cried Dave, and, having stopped to make a few more snowballs, he pushed on, with Roger and half a dozen others beside him. Phil carried the flag, and all made for where the enemy had its flag of blue. Then came an exchange of snowballs at close range, and poor Phil was hit in the face. He dropped the flag, and Dave picked it up.
"Much hurt, Phil?" asked Roger, anxiously.
"I guess not," was the plucky reply. "Go on and wax 'em!" And then Phil turned back for a moment to catch his breath.
At the edge of the field was a ridge, and back of this a deep hollow. Sam decided to take a stand behind the ridge, and so directed his followers.
