“And wasn’t it just jolly!” gloated a juvenile gleesome voice in a loud whisper.

The schoolmaster swept the room with a shocked glance.  It had no effect upon the bubbling-over effervescence of his pupils.  Every imagination was vividly recalling the rope tied from the schoolhouse chimney to a near tree.  Every heart renewed the thrills that had greeted Andy Wildwood’s daring walk across the quivering cable.

Then the culminating climax:  the giving way of the chimney, a shower of bricks—­but the young gymnast, safe and serene, dangling from the eaves.

“Last week also,” continued the schoolmaster, “you stole Farmer Dale’s calf and carried it five miles away.  You are complained of continually.  As I said, young man, you have reached the limit.  Human patience and endurance can go no farther.  You are demoralizing this school.  And now,” concluded Mr. Darrow, his lips setting grimly, “you must toe the mark.”

A hush of expectancy, of rare excitement, pervaded the room.  The schoolmaster swung aloft the ruler with one hand.  He swung Andy around directly in front of him with the other hand.

Andy’s face suddenly grew serious.  He tugged to get loose.

“Hold on, Mr. Darrow,” he spoke quickly.  “You mustn’t strike me.”

“How? what! defiance on top of rebellion!” shouted the irate pedagogue.  “Keep your seats!” he roared, as half the school came upright under the tense strain of the moment.

The next he was struggling with Andy.  Forward and backward then went over the clear recitation space.  The ruler was dropped in the scrimmage.  As Mr. Darrow stooped to repossess it, Andy managed to break loose.

Dodging behind the zinc shield that fronted the stove, he caught its top with both hands.  He moved about presenting a difficult barrier against easy capture.  Andy looked pretty determined now.  The schoolmaster was so angry that his face was as red as a piece of flannel.  He advanced again upon the culprit, so choked up that his lips made only inarticulate sounds.

“One minute, please, Mr. Darrow,” said Andy.  “You mustn’t try to whip me.  I can’t stand it, and I won’t.  It hasn’t been the rule here, ever.  I did wrong, though I couldn’t help it, and I’m sorry for it.  I’ll stand double study and staying in from recess and after school for a month, if you say so.  You can put me in the dark hole and keep me without my dinner as long as you like.  I have lots of good friends here.  I’d be ashamed to face them after a whipping—­and I won’t!”

“Yes, yes—­he’s right!” rang out an earnest chorus.

“Silence!” roared the schoolmaster.  “An example must be made.  I shall do my duty.  Andrew Wildwood—­Graham! what do you mean, sir?”

The scholars thrilled, as a new and unexpected element came into the situation.

Graham, quite a young man, and double the weight of the schoolmaster, had arisen from his seat.  He walked quietly between Mr. Darrow and Andy, quite pushing back the former gently.