The emergency meeting of the Green Town Board of Education was ready to begin.

There were only two there beside Calvin C. Quartermain: Bleak and Miss Flynt, the recording secretary.

He pointed at the pies on the table.

‘What’s this?’ said the other two.

‘A victory breakfast, or maybe a lunch.’

‘It looks like pie to me, Quartermain.’

‘It is, idiot! A victory feast, that’s what it is. Miss Flynt?’

‘Yes, Mr Cal?’

‘Take a statement. Tonight at sunset, on the edge of the ravine, I will make a few remarks.’

‘Such as?’

‘Rebellious rapscallions, hear this: The war is not done, nor have you lost nor have you won. It seems a draw. Prepare for a long October. I have taken your measure. Beware.’

Quartermain paused and shut his eyes, pressed his fingers to his temples, as if trying to remember.

‘Oh, yes. Colonel Freeleigh, sorely missed. We need a colonel. How long was Freeleigh a colonel?’

‘Since the month Lincoln was shot.’

‘Well, someone must be a colonel. I’ll do that. Colonel Quartermain. How does that sound?’

‘Pretty fine, Cal, pretty fine.’

‘All right. Now shut up and eat your pie.’

Chapter Fifteen

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The boys sat in a circle on the porch of Doug and Tom’s house. The pale blue painted ceiling mirrored the blue of the October sky.

‘Gosh,’ said Charlie. ‘I don’t like to say it, Doug – but I’m hungry.’

‘Charlie! You’re not thinking right!’

‘I’m thinkin’ fine,’ said Charlie. ‘Strawberry shortcake with a big white summer cloud of whipped cream.’

‘Tom,’ said Douglas, ‘in the by–laws in your nickel tablet, what’s it say about treason?’

‘Since when is thinking about shortcake treason?’ Charlie regarded some wax from his ear with great curiosity.

‘It’s not thinking, it’s saying!’

‘I’m starved,’ said Charlie. ‘And the other guys, look, touch ’em and they’d bite. It ain’t workin’, Doug.’

Doug stared around the circle at the faces of his soldiers, as if daring them to add to Charlie’s lament.

‘In my grandpa’s library there’s a book that says Hindus starve for ninety days. Don’t worry. After the third day you don’t feel nothing!’

‘How long’s it been? Tom, check your watch. How long?’

‘Mmmm, one hour and ten minutes.’

‘Jeez!’

‘Whatta you mean “jeez”? Don’t look at your watch! Look at calendars. Seven days is a fast!’

They sat a while longer in silence. Then Charlie said, ‘Tom, how long’s it been now?’

‘Don’t tell him, Tom!’

Tom consulted his watch, proudly. ‘One hour and twelve minutes!’

‘Holy smoke!’ Charlie squeezed his face into a mask. ‘My stomach’s a prune! They’ll have to feed me with a tube. I’m dead. Send for my folks. Tell ’em I loved ’em.’ Charlie shut his eyes and flung himself backward onto the floorboards.