"Poo! that's nothin'. _My_ brother's goin' to stay up _all_ night; he an' Phil Coombs an' Arthur Monroe are goin' to sleep in Arthur Monroe's barn an' they're goin' to the bonfire an' they ain't goin' to bed at all. Last Fourth he nearly got arrested for ringin' the High School bell!" I was determined to leave Ed Mason not a leg to stand on. "Well," he remarked weakly, "I'm goin' to get up at half-past three, anyway." He had me there. I had parental permission to get up at four o'clock, and I had not expected to be surpassed in this important achievement by my own familiar friend. It rankled with me all day, and in the evening I laid the case before my father and mother. For the honor of the family, as well as for my own self-respect, I simply had to get up at half-past three. They were in doubt. It was going to be a long and exciting day for me. Aside from the exertion of firing my own supply of crackers and torpedoes, I was going at noon to see "Gunner Hunt" fire his annual salute at the foot of River Street. Then there was the flag-raising on the mall at two o'clock, and the fireworks at March's Hill in the evening. But they finally consented, and once more I could look Ed Mason in the face. When the evening of the 3d of July came, I went cheerfully to bed at seven o'clock, in order to prepare for the labors of the next day. I counted my fire-crackers, and found their number complete. It was rather hard to get to sleep on account of the uproarious sounds from Main Street,--cannon crackers, muskets, revolvers, cow-bells, and horns. But finally I dropped off,--only to be disturbed by a dream that Auntie Merrill had come into the room and was making a raid on my fire-crackers. It was a hideous nightmare,--she vanished out the door with her arms full of my precious possessions, and I could not do a thing to stop her. When I woke I had to get up and count those fire-crackers again. Then I climbed back in bed once more and listened to the distant noise. Somebody came down our street, dragging a string of cow-bells. The national holiday was being celebrated with diligence. Suddenly it struck me that perhaps the morning had already come. In a panic I jumped up, lighted a match, and looked at the clock. It was eight o'clock,--I had been asleep less than an hour. Listening at the open window I could hear my family talking in the garden below. I remembered that I was to meet Ed Mason and Jimmy Toppan in that garden at half-past three, and that I had better get to sleep again. I lay in bed once more, trying not to hear the din. All at once I became aware that some one--my father--was standing at the side of the bed, shaking me. "Sam! Sam! I thought you were going to get up. It's quarter of four." "What?" I jumped out, confused. There was a dim light outside,--not daylight, by any means. I began to dress, and fumble for the fire-crackers. Things seemed very different, somehow, from what I had expected.