He half arose, and just then the great yellow sphere struck him. He went flat as a pancake. The pumpkin rolled over him, struck a tree, and was smashed into a thousand pieces. “Uh! what’s this now?” spluttered the tramp, as pieces of rind, seeds and fiber rained over his body and face. “Get out of this!” cried his companion. “Yes, ’tain’t safe.” “It’s them boys. They’ve seen us, and are playing tricks on us.” “Let’s make ourselves scarce, then.” Bob was about ready to laugh at the comical event of the moment. Just then, however, he had all he could do to take care of himself. A second pumpkin came bounding down the bluff side. It took Bob across the ankles, and swept him off his feet. He was thrown headlong to the ground, doubled up like a ball. The boy grabbed at a bush, missed it, and went rolling over and over down the smooth incline. [57] [57] “It’s Raining Pumpkins!” Gasped Bob [58] [58] [59] [59] There was a bare sheer descent for nearly thirty feet. Along this Bob sped, and he could not stop himself. He landed at the bottom of the slope, slid across the sand, and came to a stop not ten feet away from the blazing fire. “It’s raining pumpkins!” gasped Bob, sitting up and staring around him. All along the beach the yellow balls were bounding into view. He saw the guards and the scouts skipping about to get out of the range of the missiles. Fellows who had been in hiding came dashing down to safe ground. Dave gave the signal whistle for “All in.”
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