Joel Ham
turned his attention to the prime culprits. Having marched the youngsters
from the front desk of the third class, he drew desk and form forward
into the middle of the clear space, and then beckoned to McKnight.

'Jacker, my man,' he said cheerfully, 'bring your slate and sit here. I
have a little job for you.'

Dick, standing alone, watched his mate seat himself at the desk, elated
for a moment with the idea that perhaps Jo was not going to regard their
offence as particularly heinous after all; but his better judgment
scouted the idea, and he returned to his scrutiny of the wall. There was
a weak spot near where Hector, Peterson's billy-goat, had butted his way
through on a memorable occasion, and escape was still a comforting
contingency.

The master approached McKnight with a pencil as if to set a lesson, but
this was merely a ruse; Jacker was a hard-headed vicious youth whose
favourite kick Ham wisely reckoned with on an occasion like this. To the
boy's surprise and disgust he was presently seized by the neck and hauled
forward on to the desk. His legs, being against the seat, which was
attached to the desk, were quite useless for defence, so that he was a
helpless victim under the chastening rod. It was a degrading attitude,
and the presence of the girls made the punishment a disgrace to rankle
and burn. Jacker, for pride and the credit of his boyhood made no sound
under the first dozen cuts; but his younger brother Ted, from his place
in the Lower Fifth, set up a lugubrious wail of sympathy almost
immediately, and, as his feelings were more and more wrought upon by the
painful sight, his wailing developed into shrill and tearful abuse of the
master.

'You let him alone, see!' yelled Ted, when Jacker, unable longer to
contain himself, uttered a dismal cry.

'Hit some one yer size--go on, hit some one yer size!' screamed Ted.

But Mr. Ham's whole attention was devoted to his task, and the younger
McKnight's threats, commands, and warnings were entirely ignored,
although the boy continued to utter them between his heart broken sobs.

'Mind who you're hittin'! You'll suffer for this, Hamlet, you'll see!
We'll get some one what'll show you! Rocks for you nex' Saterdee!

Ted howled, Jacker howled, but the master caned on until he thought he
had quite accomplished his duty in that particular; then he let the limp
youth slide back into his seat.

Mr. Ham returned to his high stool to rest and recuperate