The other boys were uncertain in their minds whether the fight had ended just as it did in their histories; but Otis solved all difficulties by saying "In the true story, the Americans drove the British, the first day, and they were obliged to get out, a week after, on account of some more British coming up the bay. They didn't get licked when they made the attack here,” he said; "but they did get defeated in the long run.”

"If I had known that, I would have fought with the Americans," said Jo, sullenly. "I thought the Americans got the worst of it right along."

"No," cried Lem, who had left his perch on the rock and had come down to join in the victory of his side. "No, the Americans were overwhelmed by superior numbers." He paused to give good effect to this sounding phrase. "My father says that Lovell's men fought bravely, but the naval fleet that was to come up and help them didn't come up, and so, after a lot of fighting, they had to get out. Overwhelmed by superior numbers was what did it.”

The boys took their way homeward, still discussing the details of the fight as they threaded the paths that wound in and out among the firs and spruces that covered the Head. They were in a maze of stories about the Revolution and its fights; and they were in a maze of fragrant verdure as they strayed along the homeward way.

"All I have got to say is that I am going to

find out for sure which side is going to lick before I go into another sham fight," said Jo Murch.

Lem looked indignantly at him and said, "You don't care which side you are on, so long as you are with the winners?"

"That's me," replied Jo. ners, every time." And dropped.

"I am with the winthere the story was

CHAPTER VIII

HIS ACQUAINTANCE WITH GHOSTS, BOUGARS, AND SUCH

favorite haunts,

On the edge of

ON their way home from Perkins's Back, the boys came across one of their known as Aaron Banks's cellar. the wood was a deep hole in the grassy sward, in the bottom of which could be seen a few rocks that had once formed a part of a cellar wall. Near this was another smaller hole, only three or four feet deep. Both places were green with the turf of years, and a stranger would never suppose that these were the site of a home. But it was a well-known tradition that Aaron Banks and his family had once lived where nothing but a hole in the ground marked the place of his cellar, and another hole showed where his well had been. Stones had been used to fill up the well, and where the cellar had been was a cuplike dent for the boys to play in and hide from their fellows.

"Polly Webber has told me all about the witch that sunk the floor of Aaron Banks's house," cried Lem, eagerly, as the boys halted to slide down the slippery grass into the ancient cellar.

Polly Webber was a village oracle. She went from house to house, making and mending boys' clothes, making wedding-cake, and nursing the sick. Whatever she said was accepted as gospel truth by all the youngsters, no matter whether their parents approved or not. She was full of stories, delightful stories of the past, when she was a young woman and when "the pesky boys" were not even thought of. Polly did not approve of boys, although she had been often called in when some of these unruly creatures first came into the world.

"Tell us about the witch!" cried Otis, eagerly, and all the other boys joined in with glee. The boys of Lem's day were always delighted to hear about witches, ghosts, and bougars. These last were a sort of hobgoblin not described in any of the books, so far as I know. The only creature at all like a bougar was one in a story-book belonging to George Howe, where it was described as a wicked and malevolent creature named Rumpelstiltskin. But there were many bougars around Fairport, and when Lem was a very small boy, there was one cupboard in the house, under the back stairs, very dark and very deep, which was believed to be crowded full of bougars of the worst kind. At least, that is the tale that the hired girls told Lem, and he believed it; he rather liked to believe stories of that sort. And now, as the boys sat down on the smooth edge of Aaron

Banks's cellar, and entreated him to tell them the tale of the witch, he smacked his lips and began.

"Once upon a time there was an old woman that lived down to the lighthouse; and she was a witch

"What is a witch, anyhow?" demanded Jo Murch, with an air of one who is ready to disbelieve anything.

"Oh, hush up, and let's hear the story!" said Otis, impatiently. "The fellow that don't know what a witch is has no business with us. We all know what a witch is. Ma'am Heath is a witch. Go on, Lem."

And Lem took up the thread of his story again. "She lived down to the lighthouse, and her name -well, her name-well, I don't exactly remember her name. It had a Mac to it, I'm sure."

"Oh, never mind her name. story," cried several boys at once.

Go on with your

"Well, everybody knew she was a witch," continued Lem; "and they shunned her whenever they had chance. But some folks were afraid of her, and once when Aaron Banks's family gave a party, she was a neighbor, and they invited her. I guess they wished they hadn't, for some of the girls and fellows made fun of her, and that made her mad. They were dancing right here where this very house was, over this very cellar." And here some of the boys looked fearfully around on the grassy banks of the ancient cellar. "Right