uld have seen what direction
the stone was taking in the air, and if it went that way, why then he
would have jumped to one side--like this--and if the stone went the
other way, why then you could just jump to the other side. Besides, if
the dean's wife had been, as she ought to have been, as strong as Nils
Heia, for instance, then she might have stood perfectly still, fixed her
eyes on the stone, held her hands to catch it, and tossed it away. Yes,
wouldn't Nils Heia have done it that way? Wouldn't he be strong enough
for that?

But very soon the horror of it came over me; just think, if Peter had
killed his own mother! I remember clearly that I wouldn't have anything
more either to eat or drink, and Nils Trap teased me, and said I had
grown quite white around the nose with fright.

As we sat there looking at each other and not able to get started on
anything again, suddenly we heard a voice:

"Peter."

"That's Father," said Peter, and crouched away down so that he couldn't
possibly be seen from below.

"Hush--sh--keep still--hush!" We lay in a heap, frightened and silent.

"Peter," came again from below. "Come down this instant. I know you are
up there."

"Hush--just keep still, not a sound."

Dead silence.

"Well, if you don't come at once----" The dean was furious; we could
hear that in his voice.

"I've got to go," said Peter, standing up. "I've got to--I've got
to----" He scrambled out; the rest of us just stuck our heads up to see
what would happen.

There stood the dean with no hat, just in his wig, and furiously angry.
It was no fun to be Peter now. He was everlastingly slow about
clambering down. The dean scolded up towards our six heads, sticking out
of the dungeon:

"Yes, just try such a thing again--just try it--your backs shall suffer
for it--big boys and girls as you are--killing people with stones!"

"Yes, but we didn't kill anybody," called Karsten.

I was perfectly appalled at Karsten's daring to call out such a thing to
the dean, who, however, paid not the least attention; Peter had at last
come within his reach, so he had something else to do.

First a box on one ear: "I'll teach you,"--then a box on the other ear:
"almost killing your own mother"--and he kept on hitting. But only
think; although I felt so terribly sorry for Peter, so sorry that I
believe I should have been glad to take the blows in his place--I was as
much to blame as he--yet there was something so fearfully exci