efence of the little boy
in the Fourth Reader, whose name was large enough to cover the principal
points in the history of the New World, he might have had peace, for
Jack was no longer one of the newest scholars, his courage was respected
by Pewee, and he kept poor Riley in continual fear of his
ridicule--making him smart every day. But, just when he might have had a
little peace and happiness, he became the defender of Christopher
Columbus George Washington Marquis de la Fayette Risdale--little
"Andsoforth," as Riley and the other boys had nicknamed him.

The strange, pinched little body of the boy, his eccentric ways, his
quickness in learning, and his infantile simplicity had all conspired to
win the affection of Jack, so that he would have protected him even
without the solicitation of Susan Lanham. But since Susan had been
Jack's own first and fast friend, he felt in honor bound to run all
risks in the care of her strange little cousin.

I think that Columbus's child-like ways might have protected him even
from Riley and his set, if it had not been that he was related to Susan
Lanham, and under her protection. It was the only chance for Riley to
revenge himself on Susan. She was more than a match for him in wit, and
she was not a proper subject for Pewee's fists. So with that
heartlessness which belongs to the school-boy bully, he resolved to
torment the helpless fellow in revenge for Susan's sarcasms.

One morning, smarting under some recent taunt of Susan's, Riley caught
little Columbus almost alone in the school-room. Here was a boy who
certainly would not be likely to strike back again. His bamboo legs, his
spindling arms, his pale face, his contracted chest, all gave the coward
a perfect assurance of safety. So, with a rude pretence at play,
laughing all the time, he caught the lad by the throat, and in spite of
his weird dignity and pleading gentleness, shoved him back against the
wall behind the master's empty chair. Holding him here a minute in
suspense, he began slapping him, first on this side of the face and then
on that. The pale cheeks burned red with pain and fright, but Columbus
did not cry out, though the constantly increasing sharpness of the
blows, and the sense of weakness, degradation, and terror, stung him
severely. Riley thought it funny. Like a cat playing with a condemned
mouse, the cruel fellow actually enjoyed finding one person weak enough
to be afraid of him.

Columbus twisted about