“What have you to say, Sinclair?” he asked.  “Speak out, and give me your side.”

But Robert said nothing.  His rebellious spirit was roused, and he resented the tone of the headmaster’s voice.  Again Mr. Clapper tried, but Robert remained silent.

“Come now, tell me what led to the fight?  Why were you fighting with Peter?”

Robert would not speak, and Mr. Clapper, being of an explosive temperament, with little tact, was fast losing his temper.  He turned to question some of the other boys, finally calling them all into the school, and putting Robert into the teacher’s room, so that he might “get to the bottom of it.”

Mr. Clapper, whatever good points he may have possessed, was not at all fitted for the teaching profession, for he lacked the sympathy necessary in dealing with children, and he was a rigid believer in the doctrine of punishment.

After a time he came into the room where Robert sat, and began once more to question him.  But Robert was still obdurate, and stolidly kept silent.  Mr. Clapper recognized at once that this was a clear case of a dour nature in the wrong.  It needed correction, and that of a severe kind.  That spirit he felt must be broken, or there would be trouble ahead in after years for Robert Sinclair.  Mr. Clapper was determined to do his duty, and he believed that Robert in later life would probably feel grateful for this thrashing.  He thrashed the boy soundly and severely upon the most sensitive parts of his body, so that the pain would help to break his spirit.  He saw no indignity heaped upon a high-spirited, sensitive soul.  It was all for the boy’s own good, and so the blows fell thick and heavy upon the little back and hips.

Robert bit his lip to repress the roar of pain that wanted to escape.  He would not cry, and this was another spur to the efforts of Mr. Clapper.  The boy’s flesh twitched and quivered at every blow, yet never a cry came from him.  It but served to feed his rebellion, and he struggled and fought with fury until completely exhausted.

“There now,” declared Mr. Clapper, flinging down the “tawse” upon the table, panting from his exertions and wiping his brow, “I shall leave you for a time until you decide to speak.  If you will not speak when I return, I shall thrash you again,” and he went out, locking the door, leaving the boy, still proud and unsubdued, but aching in every muscle and bone of his little body.

Left to himself, Robert very nearly cried, but he dashed the gathering tears from his eyes, angry at the weakness, and resolved, as he adjusted his garments, that he would die rather than speak now.  He looked round, and seeing the window raised a little from the bottom, sprang to it, a sudden resolve in his heart to run away.  Just as he got astride the sill he spied a piece of chalk and the “tawse” on the table, so turning back he put the “tawse” in his pocket, and with the chalk wrote on the table:—­