"You're caught now," whispered Ned to Tom. "Come on down, and give 'em a trouncing."
Tom hesitated. He looked quickly about the loft, and then a smile replaced the frown of righteous anger on his face.
"I have a better way," he said.
"What is it?"
"See that pile of dirt?" and he pointed to some refuse that had been swept up from the floor of the loft. Ned nodded. "It consists of a lot of shavings, sawdust and, what's more, a lot of soot and lampblack that we used in mixing some paint. We'll sweep the whole pile down on their heads, and make them wish they'd stayed away from this place."
"Good!" exclaimed Ned, chuckling. "Give me a broom. There's another one for you."
The two lads in the loft peered down. The red-headed, squint-eyed bully and his chums had their knives out, and were about to cut some of the important guy wires, when, at a signal from Tom, Ned, with a sweep of his broom, sent a big pile of the dirt, sawdust and lampblack down upon the heads of the conspirators. The young inventor did the same thing, and for an instant the lower part of the shed looked as if a dirt-storm had taken place there. The pile of refuse went straight down on the heads of the trio, and,
