Then heavy steps sounded on the stairway.  Outside Mr. Cantwell’s voice could be heard: 

“I’ll take you inside, chief!”

In came the principal, his face now white from dread of what he had done, instead of showing the white-heat of passion.  After him came Chief Coy and three policemen in uniform.

For at least a full half minute Chief Coy stood glancing around the room, where every student was in his seat and all was orderly.  The boys returned the chief’s look with wondering eyes.  Then Mr. Coy spoke: 

“Where’s your riot, principal?  Is this what you termed a mutiny?”

Mr. Cantwell, who had gone to his post behind the desk, appeared to find difficulty in answering.

“Humph!” muttered the chief, and, turning, strode from the room.  His three policemen followed.

Then there came indeed an awkward silence.

Submaster Drake had abandoned the center of the stage to the principal.  Mr. Cantwell found himself at some loss for words.  But at last he began: 

“Young ladies and young gentlemen, I cannot begin to tell you how much I regret the occurrences of this morning.  Discipline is one of my greatest ideals, and this morning’s mutiny-----”

He felt obliged to pause there, for an angry murmur started on the boys’ side, and traveled over to where the girls were seated: 

“This morning’s mutiny-----” began the principal again.

The murmur grew louder.  Mr. Cantwell looked up, more of fear than of anger in his eyes.  Mr. Drake, who stood behind the principal, held up one hand appealingly.  It was that gesture which saved the situation at that critical moment.  The boys thought that if silence would please Mr. Drake, then he might have it.

“Pardon me, sir,” whispered Drake in Cantwell’s ear.  “I wouldn’t harp on the word mutiny, sir.  Express your regret for the injury unintentionally done Bristow.”

Mr. Cantwell wheeled abruptly.

“Who is principal here, Mr. Drake?”

“You are, sir.”

“Then be good enough to let me finish my remarks.”

This dialogue was spoken in an undertone, but the students guessed some inkling of its substance.

The submaster subsided, but Mr. Cantwell couldn’t seem to remember, just then, what he wanted to say.  So he stood gazing about the room.  In doing this he caught sight of the face of Purcell.

“Mr. Purcell!” called the principal.

That young man rose, standing by his seat.  “Mr. Purcell, you made some threat to me a few minutes ago?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What was that threat?”

“I told you that, if you laid hands on me, I’d floor you.”

“Would you have done it?”

“At the time, yes, sir.  Or I’d have tried to do so.”

“That is all.  The locker room monitor will go with you to the basement.  You may go for the day.  When you come to-morrow morning, I will let you know what I have decided in your case.”