reet, begging like a spaniel, and
vowing that he "wouldn't do it no more." But he got a severe whipping, I
fear;--it is doubtful if such beatings ever do any good. The next
morning Jack appeared at school with a black eye, and Pewee had some
scratches, so the master whipped them both for fighting.

CHAPTER VII

HAT-BALL AND BULL-PEN

Pewee did not renew the quarrel with Jack--perhaps from fear of the
rawhide that hung in the blacksmith's shop, or of the master's ox-goad,
or of Bob Holliday's fists, or perhaps from a hope of conciliating Jack
and getting occasional help in his lessons. Jack was still excluded from
the favorite game of "bull-pen." I am not sure that he would have been
rejected had he asked for admission, but he did not want to risk another
refusal. He planned a less direct way of getting into the game. Asking
his mother for a worn-out stocking, and procuring an old boot-top, he
ravelled the stocking, winding the yarn into a ball of medium hardness.
Then he cut from the boot-top a square of leather large enough for his
purpose. This he laid on the kitchen-table, and proceeded to mark off
and cut it into the shape of an orange-peel that has been quartered off
the orange, leaving the four quarters joined together at the middle.
This leather he put to soak over night. The next morning, bright and
early, with a big needle and some strong thread he sewed it around his
yarn-ball, stretching the wet leather to its utmost, so that when it
should contract the ball should be firm and hard, and the leather well
moulded to it. Such a ball is far better for all play in which the
player is to be hit than those sold in the stores nowadays. I have
described the manufacture of the old-fashioned home-made ball, because
there are some boys, especially in the towns, who have lost the art of
making yarn balls.

When Jack had finished his ball, he let it dry, while he ate his
breakfast and did his chores. Then he sallied out and found Bob
Holliday, and showed him the result of his work. Bob squeezed it, felt
its weight, bounced it against a wall, tossed it high in the air, caught
it, and then bounced it on the ground. Having thus "put it through its
paces," he pronounced it an excellent ball,--"a good deal better than
Ben Berry's ball. But what are you going to do with it?" he asked. "Play
Anthony-over? The little boys can play that."

I suppose there are boys in these days who do not know what
"Anthony-over" is.