Gable held out his hand; his toothless mouth formed itself into a dark oval, his eyes distended with painful expectancy, and he assumed the shrinking attitude of the very small boy who expects the fall of the cane.  The situation was absurd, but no one smiled.  Ham raised the extended hand a little with the end of the dreaded weapon.

‘You are going the right way to come to a dishonoured old age, Gable,’ he said, and the cane went up, but the cut was not delivered.  ‘There,’ continued the master, ’I forgive you in consideration of your extreme youth.  Go to your place, and try to set a better example to the older boys.’

The old man trotted back to his seat, grinning all over his face, and set to work at his book with an appearance of intense zeal; and Joel Ham turned his attention to the prime culprits.  Having marched the youngsters from the front desk of the third class, he drew desk and form forward into the middle of the clear space, and then beckoned to McKnight.

‘Jacker, my man,’ he said cheerfully, ’bring your slate and sit here.  I have a little job for you.’

Dick, standing alone, watched his mate seat himself at the desk, elated for a moment with the idea that perhaps Jo was not going to regard their offence as particularly heinous after all; but his better judgment scouted the idea, and he returned to his scrutiny of the wall.  There was a weak spot near where Hector, Peterson’s billy-goat, had butted his way through on a memorable occasion, and escape was still a comforting contingency.

The master approached McKnight with a pencil as if to set a lesson, but this was merely a ruse; Jacker was a hard-headed vicious youth whose favourite kick Ham wisely reckoned with on an occasion like this.  To the boy’s surprise and disgust he was presently seized by the neck and hauled forward on to the desk.  His legs, being against the seat, which was attached to the desk, were quite useless for defence, so that he was a helpless victim under the chastening rod.  It was a degrading attitude, and the presence of the girls made the punishment a disgrace to rankle and burn.  Jacker, for pride and the credit of his boyhood made no sound under the first dozen cuts; but his younger brother Ted, from his place in the Lower Fifth, set up a lugubrious wail of sympathy almost immediately, and, as his feelings were more and more wrought upon by the painful sight, his wailing developed into shrill and tearful abuse of the master.

‘You let him alone, see!’ yelled Ted, when Jacker, unable longer to contain himself, uttered a dismal cry.

‘Hit some one yer size—­go on, hit some one yer size!’ screamed Ted.

But Mr. Ham’s whole attention was devoted to his task, and the younger McKnight’s threats, commands, and warnings were entirely ignored, although the boy continued to utter them between his heart broken sobs.

‘Mind who you’re hittin’!  You’ll suffer for this, Hamlet, you’ll see!  We’ll get some one what’ll show you!  Rocks for you nex’ Saterdee!