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