“I’ve no doubt it went away,” replied the sturdy republican; “but if the king had never been born, it would have gone away all the same. It’s a disorder that once in the blood is always there, and goes and comes. Medicine will appear to cure it, and drive it from one part of the body to another, and just as like as not, it went away on account of some medicine the child had been taking. You’d better put all such nonsense out of your head; it is not worth bringing over the water. If those boys impose upon you, defend yourself; you are big enough. Give no offence and take none; the whole district will uphold you in it.”
CHAPTER XII.
STUNG TO THE QUICK.
James could be neither goaded to retaliation by the provocation of his persecutors, nor stimulated to self-defence by the arguments and persuasions of his friends, so thoroughly had the bitter lesson of submission to superiors been impressed by the iron fingers of stern necessity; but an event now occurred, which, placing the matter before him in a new light, removed his scruples in a moment.
The persons who had put the snow in the fireplace were well known to James, for Arthur had not scrupled to expose them after the time had elapsed during which he had promised to keep the secret. James also knew that they still continued to instigate Chuck Witham and other boys to annoy and insult him. He occupied a side seat near one of the back corners of the schoolhouse, and his head, when bent over his book, was on a level with a crevice between two logs, that was stuffed with clay and moss. One night after school, Chuck Witham bored a small hole through this clay, and filled the hole with cotton, for fear James would feel the draft and observe it. The next day he brought to school, half an ox-goad, with a long brad in it, made of a saddler’s awl.
The day was warm for the season; there was quite a large fire, and at recess time, the master opened a window on each side of the fire to create a draft, and ventilate and cool the room.
James was in his seat writing, when he suddenly sprang to his feet, upsetting his inkstand, and throwing all his books to the floor. The master was walking back and forth on the floor, and seeing him put his hand to his head, looked out of the window and saw Chuck running from the hole, for the woods. He instantly pursued and caught him, with the goad in his hand, called the scholars in and gave him a severe whipping. Witham, with the expectation of mitigating his punishment, declared that he was persuaded to it by Morse, Riggs, and Orcutt, and that Will Morse gave him a two-bladed knife to do this and other things he had done to James. This declaration was made before the whole school, and Peter and Arthur Nevins now recollected that William Morse stayed in during recess, a thing he had never been known to do before, and it was evident to all that he had stayed in to gloat over the torture about to be inflicted upon one who had never injured, or even spoken to him.
The brad was long, and entered deep, for the stab was given with good-will, and the blood flowed freely.
At noontime the boys and girls collected together in knots, commenting upon the affair, when Chuck Witham, still writhing under the effects of the castigation, for it was most severe, made some disparaging remark about redemptioners, in a tone loud enough for James to hear, as he was passing by on his way to the spring, to wash off the blood that had dried on his neck, upon which William Morse laughed heartily, in which he was joined by Riggs and Orcutt.
Perfectly willing to pick a quarrel, Bert replied,—“Morse, you should have had that licking yourself; for you set Chuck on, and have been at the bottom of all the mean tricks that have been done, and that you had not courage to do yourself.”
This brought a sharp rejoinder from Morse. Riggs and Orcutt sided with Morse, and the debate became so warm that just as James came along on his return from the spring, Morse, feeling he was getting the worst of the argument, caught a stick from the wood-pile and felled Bertie to the ground. James saw the blow fall on the head of the boy whom he loved better than himself,—yea, almost worshipped,—his scruples vanished in a moment. It was no longer the workhouse boy against the landed gentry; but, forgetting all that, he dealt Morse a blow that cut through his upper lip, knocked out a tooth, flattened his nose, and sent him backward over the wood-pile. Riggs turned to run, but came in contact with the broad shoulders of Arthur Nevins, who was purposely in the way, and before he could recover himself, James, seizing him behind, flung him to the ground, and catching up the stick that fell from the hand of Morse, beat him till he cried murder. While this was going on George Orcutt would have made his escape, but Stillman Russell, the most retiring boy in school, and so diffident that he would blush if you spoke to him, put out his foot and tripped him up. Before he could rise, Arthur Nevins put his foot on him, but James went into the schoolhouse, and resumed his studies.