"Sir," prompted a voice from the back seat.
"Walter Watland, sir," panted Fatty, glimpsing the light in the nick of time.
"Very well, Walter, you may go home and get a pail of water. My experience with school wells," glancing out of the window to the blue pump, "has been that during the holidays they become a veritable death trap for frogs, mice and other vermin."
Walter moved quickly to execute the order. Mr. Johnston addressed the rest of the pupils. "School is now dismissed until we raise the windows and air the room."
CHAPTER XVIII
THE METTLE OF THE BREED
Immediately thirty boys and girls leaped to their feet and windows went up with a bang.
"I think," Mr. Johnson's voice was heard above the din, "it would be a good plan to start a fire in that big stove. This place is positively vault like with dampness."
A number of the boys ran out to gather kindling and wood and soon a fire was crackling in the stove.
"Pupils will now take their seats," commanded the teacher, tinkling the bell on his desk. There was a hurried scramble as each boy and girl found his and her place.