For the first time the boys noted that no water was running in the fountain, and that the basin underneath was wholly dry.
"My enchantment has worked," chuckled Len.
"How did you do it ?" demanded one puzzled youngster.
"Never mind," Len retorted mysteriously.

"Now, if you don't instantly put Dick Prescott on his feet and leave him alone, I'll work an enchantment that will raise hob with every boy who lays as much as a finger on Dick." So Prescott was allowed to slide down to his feet.

He was laughing, enjoying every moment of the fun.
"We could have run him down to the next fountain," suggested one of the schoolboys.
"It would do you no good, and Prescott no harm," Len retorted dryly.

"At three o'clock this afternoon the fire department turned off all of the public fountains in order to clean 'em." Now Dick's late tormentors began to feel that they had been badly "sold" all around.

After the manner of boys, they grinned sheepishly, then more broadly and finally ended by laughing heartily.