“How do I ’low?” said Bud.  “I don’t ‘low nothin’ about it.  You might as well ax me where I ‘low the nex’ shootin’ star is a-goin’ to drap.  Mr. Hartsook’s mighty onsartin.  But he’ll git in, though, and tan your hide fer you, you see ef he don’t. Ef he don’t blow up the school-house with gunpowder!” This last was thrown in by way of alleviating the fears of the cowardly Hank, for whom Bud had a great contempt.

The time for school had almost come.  The boys inside were demoralized by waiting.  They began to hope that the master had “sloped.”  They dreaded to see him coming.

“I don’t believe he’ll come,” said Hank, with a cold shiver.  “It’s past school-time.”

“Yes, he will come, too,” said Bud.  “And he ’lows to come in here mighty quick.  I don’t know how.  But he’ll be a-standin’ at that air desk when it’s nine o’clock.  I’ll bet a thousand dollars on that. Ef he don’t take it into his head to blow us up!” Hank was now white.

Some of the parents came along, accidentally of course, and stopped to see the fun, sure that Bud would thrash the master if he tried to break in.  Small, on the way to see a patient perhaps, reined up in front of the door.  Still no Ralph.  It was just five minutes before nine.  A rumor now gained currency that he had been seen going to Clifty the evening before, and that he had not come back, though in fact Ralph had come back, and had slept at Squire Hawkins’s.

“There’s the master,” cried Betsey Short, who stood out in the road shivering and giggling alternately.  For Ralph at that moment emerged from the sugar-camp by the school-house, carrying a board.

“Ho! ho!” laughed Hank, “he thinks he’ll smoke us out.  I guess he’ll find us ready.”  The boys had let the fire burn down, and there was now nothing but hot hickory coals on the hearth.

“I tell you he’ll come in.  He didn’t go to Clifty fer nothing” said Bud, who sat still on one of the benches which leaned against the door.  “I don’t know how, but they’s lots of ways of killing a cat besides chokin’ her with butter.  He’ll come in—­ef he don’t blow us all sky-high!”

Ralph’s voice was now heard, demanding that the door be opened.

“Let’s open her,” said Hank, turning livid with fear at the firm, confident tone of the master.

Bud straightened himself up.  “Hank, you’re a coward.  I’ve got a mind to kick you.  You got me into this blamed mess, and now you want to craw-fish.  You jest tech one of these ’ere fastenings, and I’ll lay you out flat of your back afore you can say Jack Robinson.”

The teacher was climbing to the roof with the board in hand.

“That air won’t win,” laughed Pete Jones outside.  He saw that there was no smoke.  Even Bud began to hope that Ralph would fail for once.  The master was now on the ridge-pole of the school-house.  He took a paper from his pocket, and deliberately poured the contents down the chimney.