“What were you doing last night,” asked Graybeard of Lester, “when I caught you outside of my window?”
“I was going down to the ground.”
“Were you running away?”
“No, sir.”
“Where were you going?”
“I was going to the village.”
“What were you going to the village for?”
No answer.
“Who was letting you down; someone must have held the rope in the dormitory, who was it?”
No reply.
“If you don’t answer my questions, I shall have to whip you; who else was going with you?”
Lester looked appealingly to Brush, then to Alexander. Aleck was writing the sentence in his book; but, when he heard Graybeard’s threat to whip Lester, he arose without finishing the last word. All eyes turned upon him, and there was a stir among the pupils.
“What is it, Alexander,” asked Graybeard, “what do you know about this strange performance?”
“Lester is not to blame, sir; I made him go out of the window, and I held the rope to let him down.”
“And I helped him to do it,” came from a voice in another part of the room; it was Brush, who had silently risen; “we compelled the two—we compelled Lester to go out of the window.”
“You said there were two boys who were going out of the window, who was the other?” asked Graybeard, determined to find out all the participants in the mischief.
Those of us who knew, looked toward Joel; an expression of fear stole over his face and he anxiously awaited Brush’s answer.
“I did not say that, sir,” he replied; “Lester was going down alone.”
Joel gave a sigh of relief.
“What made you force the boy to go out of the window; where were you sending him?”
“We were sending him to the village.”
“What were you sending him to the village for?”
“I refuse to answer,” was the bold reply.
Graybeard, seeing that there would be no use in questioning Brush, turned to Alexander and asked, “What were you sending Lester to the village for?”
“I was sending him to go there and return.”
“Alexander, I want no foolishness; tell me what you were sending Lester to the village for?”
“I refuse to answer.”
“This abusing of smaller boys by the large ones, and making them do things that are improper, must be stopped; it has gone far enough. Lester, you may take your seat. Frank, take this knife and get me two good hickory switches. Do you know a hickory-tree?”
“Yes, sir,” I answered, as I took the knife. I knew every kind of tree growing around the school, and I had a suspicion that Graybeard did not know the difference between a hickory sapling and some others. I cut two formidable-looking switches of linden, closely resembling hickory. I had time to fully doctor only one of the switches, by driving the knife-blade deep into the wood every two or three inches. When I entered the schoolroom, Graybeard took a glance at the switches, then said:
“Alexander and Brush will step to my desk and take off their coats.”
The two boys stood in their shirt sleeves; I kept watch of Graybeard’s eyes, and saw that he was going to take Brush first; so when he was ready I handed him the fully doctored switch.
“Is that hickory?” he asked, trying it on the air; “I suspect it isn’t.”
I made no reply.
“Stand in the middle of the floor,” said Graybeard to Brush.
He did so. Graybeard brought down the stick heavily on Brush’s shoulders, an inch of the sapling broke; then he struck faster and faster, and at each stroke a piece flew off. Brush stood with clenched fists, determined not to show any flinching; but we could see that he felt keenly the blows. He went to his desk, and buried his face in his arms.
“I am afraid this isn’t hickory,” said Graybeard, throwing on the floor the stump of the switch. “I know this one is,” and he dealt blow after blow on the broad shoulders of Alexander, who gave no sign of pain. The boy stood unmoved, every muscle relaxed, even his hands were open, showing no emotion whatever. The stick was worn out, and Graybeard threw the stump on the floor.
Aleck put on his coat, then, with head uplifted and unfaltering steps, went to his desk, took his pen, and completed the unfinished word of the motto.
XIV
A Rebuke
It was Saturday, a day of delight for the boys and girls of the Mission school, for to them it was a day of rest from the toil of study, and a visit home was permitted. On this morning the allotted chores were performed with redoubled energy; for the sooner the tasks were done, the earlier would be the start for home, the sooner the pleasures laid out for the day would begin.
The boys who had finished their work and had reported to the superintendent were already on their way to the village, shouting and singing as they went. Edwin watered the horses, and I started the hydraulic ram; then, having received our formal leave to go, we chased each other up the hill toward the village, and wrestled until we came to the place where the path branched; he took one way and I the other, but we continued to chaff back and forth until we were out of hearing.
After greeting my father and mother, the first thing I did was to run over to the barn and see the horses. When I had rubbed the noses of Kushas and Hintu and the rest, and had pitched down from the loft a lot of hay for them, I stepped over to Ka-heʻ-num-ba’s house and looked in at the door, which stood wide open. His wife was sitting near the stove, quietly working on a pair of moccasins.
“Where is Ga-imʻ-ba-zhe?” I shouted.
“Oh! how you startled me!” she said. “Your uncle has gone to the stable with other boys; he left word for
