"Get out!" I said. "I shan't call you a fool; but if I did, you wouldn't be such a beast as to hit me, and if you did, I should be so sorry that I shouldn't hit you again. That wouldn't do."

Tom Mercer scratched his head.

"No," he said dryly, "that wouldn't do. It seems precious rum, though."

"What does?"

"That I shouldn't care to hit you. I feel as if I couldn't hit a fellow who saved my life."

"Look here," I said angrily, "you're always trying to bring up that stupid nonsense about the holding you up on the penstock. If you do it again, I will hit you."

"Boo! Not you. You're afraid," cried Mercer derisively. "Who pulled the chap out of the water when he was half drowned, and saved him?

Who--"

I clapped my hand over his mouth.

"Won't do, Tom," I said. "It's all sham. We can't fight. I daresay old Lom's right, though."

"What do you mean?"

"That we shall be able to knock Eely and d.i.c.ksee into the middle of next week."

"But it seems to me as if they must feel that we have been learning, or else they would have been sure to have done something before now."

"Never mind," I said, "let's wait. We don't want to fight, as Lom says, but if we're obliged to, we've got to do it well."

The occasion for trying our ability did not come off, though it was very near it several times; but as I grew more confident, the less I felt disposed to try, and Mercer always confessed it was the same with him, though the c.o.c.k of the school and his miserable toady, d.i.c.ksee often led us a sad life.

One morning, soon after the last visit of Uncle Seaborough, Lomax came to the schoolroom door, just as Mr Hasnip was giving me a terrible bullying about the results of a problem in algebra, on to which he had hurried me before I had more than the faintest idea of the meaning of the rules I had been struggling through.

I suppose I was very stupid, but it was terribly confusing to me for the most part. I grasped very well the fact that a plus quant.i.ty killed a minus quant.i.ty if they were of equal value, and that a little figure two by the side of a letter meant its square, and I somehow blundered through some simple equations, but when Mr Hasnip lit a scholastic fire under me, and began to force on bigger mathematical flowers from my unhappy soil in the Doctor's scholastic hothouse, I began to feel as if I were blighted, and as if quadratic equations were instruments of torture to destroy boys' brains.

On that particular morning, I was, what fat d.i.c.ksee called, "catching it," and I was listening gloomily to my teacher's attempts at being witty at my expense.

"How a boy can be so stupid," he said, "is more than I can grasp. It is perfect child's play, and yet you have gone on getting the problem into a hopeless tangle--a ridiculous tangle. You have made a surd perfectly absurd, and--"

"Mr Hasnip!" came from the other end of the great room. Mr Hasnip looked up.

"The drill-master is here. The horse has arrived for Burr junior's riding lesson. Can you excuse him?"

"Certainly, sir," and Mr Hasnip looked at me, showing his teeth in a hungry kind of smile, as if a nice morsel were being s.n.a.t.c.hed from him, and I stood with my heart beating, and the warm blood tingling in my cheeks, conscious that all the boys were looking at me.

"Here, take your book, Burr junior," said my tutor. "Very glad to go, I daresay. Now aren't you?"

I looked up at him, but made no reply.

"Do you hear me, sir?"

"Yes, sir."

"I said, 'Aren't you glad to go?'"

"Yes, sir."

"Of course. There, be off. You'll never learn anything. You are the stupidest boy I ever taught."

My cheeks burned, and as I turned to go, there was fat d.i.c.ksee grinning at me in so provoking a way, that if we had been alone, I should in my vexation have tried one of Lomax's blows upon his round, smooth face.

But as it was, I went back to my place, where Mercer was seated, with his hands clasped and thrust down between his knees, his back up, and his head down over his book, apparently grinding up his Euclid, upon which he kept his eyes fixed.

"Oh ho!" he whispered; "here you are. Without exception, sir, the stupidest boy I ever taught."

"I'll punch your head by and by, Tom, if you're not quiet," I said.

"Who made the surd absurd?"

"Did you hear what I said?"

"Yes. Oh, you lucky beggar! Who are you, I should like to know, to be having your riding lessons?"

"Less talking there, Burr junior."

This from Mr Rebble, and I went out, pa.s.sing close to Burr major, who looked me up and down contemptuously, as he took out his watch, and said to the nearest boy,--

"Rank favouritism! if there's much more of it, I shall leave the school."

But I forgot all this directly, as I stepped out, where I found Lomax standing up as stiff as a ramrod, and with a walking cane thrust under his arms and behind his back, trussing him like a chicken, so as to throw out his chest.

He saluted me in military fashion.

"Mornin', sir. Your trooper's waiting. Looks a nice, clever little fellow."

"Trooper?" I faltered in a disappointed tone. "What do you mean? I thought it was the horse come."

"So it is."

"But trooper?"

"Of course. Well, charger, then. Officers' horses are chargers; men's horses, troopers."

"Oh!" I cried, brightening up, but with a feeling of nervousness and excitement making my heart beat more heavily still. "Where is it?"

"Paddock!" said Lomax shortly, and without the slightest disposition to be conversational. In fact, he became more military every moment, and marched along by me, delivering cuts at nothing with his cane, as if he were angry with the air.

Then all at once he glanced at me, looking me up and down.

"Humph! No straps to your overalls," he said snappishly.

"Overalls?"