find--what? The thought staggered him, and his imagination would not, or
could not, construct for him what was at the other side. All day, often,
he had lain stretched full length upon the moor, watching the great
white clouds sailing past, seeing himself sometimes sitting astride
them, proudly surveying, like God, the whole world. At times it was so
real that he bounded to his feet when by some misadventure he slipped
from the back of the cloud. He listened to the songs of larks, the cries
of curlews and lapwings and all the other moorland birds, and became as
familiar with each of them as they were with one another.

But this going to school was a break in his freedom, and it stirred him
strangely. He felt already that he would rather not go to school. He had
always been happy before, and he did not know what lay ahead.

In the schoolroom that morning, Robert was called out by the
headmistress to her desk, and while she was jotting down in her register
particulars as to his age, etc., it happened that Peter Rundell was also
on the floor. Robert looked so wonderingly at the white collar and the
shining boots, that Rundell, to fill in the blanks and keep himself
cheerful, promptly put out his tongue. Robert, not to be behind in
respectfulness, just as promptly put out his, at the same time making a
grimace, and immediately they were at it, pummeling each other in hearty
glee before the teacher could do anything to prevent them. It was their
first fight. The whole class was in immediate uproar and cries of--"Go
on, Rob!" and "Good Peter!" were ringing out, as the supporters on
either side shouted encouragement. Both went at it and for a couple of
minutes defied the efforts of the teacher to separate them; but in
response to calls for help, Mr. Clapper, the headmaster, came in, and
taking hold of Robert soon had him across his knee, and was giving him a
taste of the "tawse" he had heard so much about that morning, and Robert