Kendall’s hand, which had been clutching the electric torch for many minutes, tightened and his finger sought the button. But he waited a moment longer, waited while they reached the flagpole, four darker blots in the darkness, and paused there. Then two of the forms separated from the others, one advancing to the right and the other to the left and kneeling, apparently, on the turf. Only once the sound of a voice reached Kendall. Then he thought he heard the word “brush” uttered in a low tone. And then up went his arm, his finger pressed on the button and―― Darkness as before! The torch had failed to work! Frantically Kendall pressed the button, but it was no use. What was the matter? The torch had been all right earlier in the evening, for he had tested it more than once. Perhaps――! Hurriedly he unscrewed the lens at the end and felt of the tiny lamp inside. That was it! It had become sufficiently unscrewed to break the connection. He tightened it with trembling fingers, put back the lens, again pointed it at the base of the flagpole and pressed the button. A path of white light leaped before him into the darkness. In that brilliant flood of radiance every object stood out sharp and distinct as though in a flash of lightning. At the pole, frozen into immobility, stood a boy with upraised arm. Beside him a second boy leaned to dip his brush in the can of paint. At the edge of the radiance, to left and right, the two watchers knelt on the grass like Indian scouts and gazed with wide, frightened eyes into the glare of the torch. The picture lasted but an instant. Then came one sudden exclamation of alarm and four figures were scuttling for the edge of The Prospect, their shadows fleeing before them. Then they were gone. Kendall raced after. The light from the torch swept the long, steep slope. Two of the boys had reached the bottom safely, but the others were rolling over and over, pellmell, legs and arms thrashing the air as they went. But not a sound escaped them. At the bottom they picked themselves up and plunged into the blackness beyond the limits of the torch’s radiance. [Illustration: “At the pole stood a boy with upraised arm.”] Kendall extinguished the light and stood for a moment in silent laughter as he heard the creak of the carriage, followed the next instant by the sound of galloping hoofs on the road. Then silence fell again. Still chuckling, he retraced his steps across The Prospect. He had had some idea at first of hiding the can of paint, but he didn’t know where to put it. And, now that the enemy was routed in disorder, it behooved him to make good his own escape from a precarious position. He wondered whether they had succeeded in putting any of the paint on the pole before their flight, but decided that he had better not show the light again. He would learn to-morrow.