Rash dream! One day when we were least expecting it, the "Philistines were upon us" again, and this time their device was to snatch off our caps! It was too terrible to think of! We could endure to be hooted at, and pelted, and said "A, B, C" to, but to have our little Scotch caps snatched off our heads and tossed over pailings and into puddles, was too much even for the meek disciples of Jenny Wren. The poor little boys got their mothers to fasten elastics to go under their chins, and even so walked nearly half a mile round to avoid the market cross. It was no use, the manoeuvre was discovered, and not only did the youngsters have their caps taken, but were flipped violently by the elastics in the face and about the ears in doing so. As for us older ones, some ran, other walked with their caps under their tunics, others held them on with both hands. The result was the same; our caps were captured! Then did Jimmy Bates, and Joe Bobbins, and Harry Rasper, and I, meet one day, and declare to one another, that this sort of thing was not to be stood. "Let's tell Mother Wren," said one. "Or the policeman," said another. "Let's write and tell Fred Batchelor's uncle," said another. That referred to my relative, who was always counted a "nob" in the village. "I say, don't do any," said the redoubtable Bobbins. "The next time they do it to me _I_ mean to kick!" The sentiment was loudly applauded, and a regular council of war was held, with the following decision. We four were to go home together that afternoon, and without waiting to be chased, would ourselves give chase to the first bully we saw, and take _his_ cap! The consequences of course might be fearful--fatal; but the blood of the "Jenny Wrenites" was up. Do it we would, or perish in the attempt. I think we all got a little nervous as the afternoon school wore on and the hour for departing approached. Indeed, when we were about to start, Bates looked very like deserting straight away. "Oh, you three go on," he said, "I'll catch you up; I just want to speak to Jenny." "No we don't," we all protested; "we'll wait here, if it takes you till midnight to say what you've got to say to Jenny." This valiant determination put an end to Bates's wavering, and with a rueful face he joined us. "Now, mind," said Rasper, "the first you see!" "Well," exclaimed I, starting suddenly to run, "that's Cad Prog, the butcher-boy, there; come along." So it was! Of all our enemies Cad Prog was the most truculent, and most feared. The sight of his red head coming round the corner was always enough to strike panic into a score of youngsters, and even we bigger boys always looked meek when Prog came out to defy us. He was strolling guilelessly along, and didn't see us at first. Then suddenly he caught sight of us approaching, and next moment the blue apron and red head disappeared with a bolt round the corner. "Come on!" shouted Rasper, who led.