The master drew forth his heavy black strap with impressive deliberation
and ominous silence. The preparations for punishment were so elaborate
and imposing that the big boys guessed that the punishment itself would
not amount to much. Not so Jimmie. He stood numb with fear and horrible
expectation. The master lifted up the strap.

"James, hold out your hand!"

Jimmie promptly clutched his hand behind his back.

"Hold out your hand, sir, at once!" No answer.

"James, you must do as you are told. Your punishment for disobedience
will be much severer than for laughing." But Jimmie stood pale, silent,
with his hands tight clasped behind his back.

The master stepped forward, and grasping the little boy's arm, tried to
pull his hand to the front; but Jimmie, with a roar like that of a young
bull, threw himself flat on his face on the floor and put his hands
under him. The school burst into a laugh of triumph, which increased the
master's embarrassment and rage.

"Silence!" he said, "or it will be a worse matter for some of you than
for James."

Then turning his attention to Jimmie, be lifted him from the floor and
tried to pull out his hand. But Jimmie kept his arms folded tight across
his breast, roaring vigorously the while, and saying over and over, "Go
away from me! Go away from me, I tell you! I'm not taking anything to do
with you."