The Board of Strategy swooped down upon the carriage like Trumet mosquitoes on a summer boarder. They swarmed into the vehicle, Bailey on the front seat and Asaph in the rear, where, somehow or other, they made room for him. There were handshakings and thumps on the back. “What you doin' 'way up here in the west end of nowhere?” demanded Captain Cy. “By the big dipper, I'm glad to see you! How'd you get here?” “Walked,” cackled Bailey. “Frogged it all the way. Soon's Mrs. Peabody wired you was goin' to ride, me and Ase started to meet you. Wan't you surprised?” “We wanted to be the fust to say howdy, old man,” explained Asaph. “Wanted to welcome you back, you know.” The captain was immensely pleased. “Well, I'm glad I've got so much popularity, anyhow,” he said. “Guess 'twill be different when I get down street, hey? Don't cal'late Tad and Angie 'll shed the joyous tear over me. Never mind; long's my friends are glad I don't care about the rest.” The Board looked at each other. “Tad?” repeated Bailey. “And Angie? What you talkin' about? Why, they--Ugh!” The last exclamation was the result of a tremendous dig in the ribs from the Tidditt fist. Asaph, who had leaned forward to administer it, was frowning and shaking his head. Mr. Bangs relapsed into a grinning silence. West Bayport seemed to be deserted. At one or two houses, however, feminine heads appeared at the windows. One old lady shook a calico apron at the carriage. A child beside her cried: “Hurrah!” “Aunt Hepsy h'istin' colors by mistake,” laughed the captain. “She ain't got her specs, I guess, and thinks I'm Heman. That comes of ridin' astern of a span, Peabody.” But as they drew near the Center flags were flying from front-yard poles. Some of the houses were decorated. “What in the world--” began Captain Cy. “Land sakes! look at the schoolhouse. And Simmons's! And--and Simpson's!” The schoolhouse flag was flapping in the wind. The scarred wooden pillars of its portico were hidden with bunting. Simmons's front displayed a row of little banners, each bearing a letter--the letters spelled “Welcome Home.” Tad's barber shop was more or less artistically wreathed in colored tissue paper. There, too, a flag was draped over the front door. Yet not a single person was in sight. “For goodness' sake!” cried the bewildered captain. “What's all this mean? And where is everybody. Have all hands--” He stopped in the middle of the sentence. They were at the foot of Whittaker's Hill. Its top, between the Atkins's gate and the Whittaker fence, was black with people. Children pranced about the outskirts of the crowd. A shout came down the wind. The horses, not in the least fatigued by their long canter, trotted up the slope. The shouting grew louder. A wave of youngsters came racing to meet the equipage. “What--what in time?” gasped Captain Cy. “What's up? I--”