Frédéric glanced uneasily about him from time to time as the confusion increased, realizing that even the most patient of teachers would not long endure such rebellion. He, as much as any one, enjoyed the antics that kept the whole school tittering, and was strongly tempted to join in the mutiny; but he had promised his father to stand by the new assistant this evening, and he felt honor-bound to do it.
The crisis came when John Skotricki leaped from his seat and ran down the room in pursuit of a boy who had given him a cuff on the ear in passing. The teacher sprang up with an angry light in his eye, and flourished the ruler threateningly. Frédéric exchanged glances with the assistant, and threw down his pen with the announcement,—
"Boys, if you'll all be quiet in your seats, I'll tell you a story."
The others, supposing that Frédéric was on their side, and that this was a part of the joke, folded their arms; and instantly the room grew so still that one could hear the ticking of the clock in the hall beyond.
Frédéric turned out all the lights, for "a story always sounds better in the dark," he explained. Then seating himself at the piano, he began to speak, playing all the while music that helped to tell his story.
Every student rested his arms on his desk, and bent attentively to listen.
"Once upon a time there stood a great house on the bank of a lonely river." (Here came a lightly running passage on the piano, like the rippling of water.) "A band of robbers riding through the country paused in the glade at nightfall. Seeing the old mansion by the river side, they decided to force an entrance at midnight and carry away the gold and jewels that were probably secreted there.
"They laid their plans carefully" (sounds of many gruff, deep-toned voices, one at a time, then all together in a rumbling chorus), "and at the solemn hour they had chosen" (twelve clanging tones), "they tied their horses farther up the dell, and marched, two by two, toward the house by the swirling river. Noiselessly they approached and surrounded the many-pinnacled dwelling, each robber choosing a window through which he would make his entrance. At the signal of the leader" (a high faint trill), "each man climbed to his window ledge, sawed straight through the iron bars that protected it" (a steady rasping sound as of edged tools), "and ripped out the glass with the point of his dagger" (tinklings as of shattered crystal).
"Now for the treasures! Each man had one foot inside the house, and one hand on the inner sill, when, all at once, lights flared up in every room" (a reckless sweep of notes), "dogs barked fiercely, shouts were heard from the upper corridors, pistol-shots burst on the stillness of the night, and the robbers leaped from their perches, rolling over and over in the mud below" (loud discordant notes, and the bang, bang of the pistols mingled with the furious growling and yelping of dogs).
"Gaining their feet in a twinkling, the robbers fled as swiftly as though wearing wings on their boots; and reaching the horses in breathless fright, they swung themselves into their saddles and galloped madly away. Hour after hour they rode" (pit-a-pat, pit-a-pat of the hoof-beats), "through valley and village and glen. On, on they spurred" (pit-a-pat, pit-a-pat), "until they came to a deep, dense forest. Into its shadows they plunged, knowing that here they would be safe at last from the dogs and the men who lived in the house by the rolling river.