sense of our hero suffering shame. Temple and I clutched fingers tight
as long as the blows went on. We hoped for Boddy to make another attempt
to touch Heriot; he held near the master, looking ready to spring, like a
sallow panther; we kept hoping he would, in our horror of the murderous
slashes of the cane; and not a syllable did Heriot utter. Temple and I
started up, unaware of what we were going to do, or of anything until we
had got a blow a-piece, and were in the thick of it, and Boddy had us
both by the collars, and was knocking our heads together, as he dragged
us back to our seats. But the boys told us we stopped the execution.
Mr. Rippenger addressed us before he left the school-room. Saddlebank,
Salter, and a good many others, plugged their ears with their fists.
That night Boddy and Catman paced in the bedchambers, to prevent plotting
and conspiracy, they said. I longed to get my arms about Heriot, and
thought of him, and dreamed of blood, and woke in the morning wondering
what made me cry, and my arms and back very stiff. Heriot was gay as
ever, but had fits of reserve; the word passed round that we were not to
talk of yesterday evening. We feared he would refuse to play in the
match.

'Why not?' said he, staring at us angrily. 'Has Saddlebank broken his
arm, and can't bowl?'

No, Saddlebank was in excellent trim, though shamefaced, as was Salter,
and most of the big boys were. They begged Heriot to let them shake his
hand.

'Wait till we win our match,' said Heriot.

Julia did not appear at morning prayers.