The recess was only fifteen minutes in length, and the students were soon all back in the schoolroom, where the usual order of exercises was carried out; but nobody remembered a day on which all the recitations had been so poor, and everybody was glad when the afternoon session was at an end.
At two o’clock came dinner. Drill was from three to four; after that the session for delinquents, and then an hour’s respite before retreat.
During this interval, a half-dozen of the leading spirits of disorder locked themselves in Fryant’s room to discuss plans for “getting even with the old man.” It seemed to be “the sense of the meeting” that a holiday should be had, regardless of the morning’s refusal.
The only questions at issue were, how, when, and where the project could be carried out. No one was quite bold enough, as yet, to propose that the school as a body, or any material part of it, should set out for a holiday, purposely and deliberately, against the will of the principal. That would be open rebellion. But as the discussion and feeling both waxed warmer, the approach to such an end became more apparent.
“He’s tyrannized over us long enough!” exclaimed Drake. “If we don’t show him what our rights are, an’ take ’em, we’ll get to be nigger slaves before the term’s done!”
“Talk about our being gentlemen and soldiers!” protested another, pompously. “We are, and more. But when oppression grows too severe, even soldiers rebel against it, and the civilized world upholds them in rebellion. I say go! I say run up the black flag! I say fight, if need be, for liberty! I say—”
There came a knock at the door, and the impassioned orator lapsed into sudden and trembling silence; but it was only one of the delinquents, who had heard of the meeting, and desired to participate in it. He was allowed to enter.
Not long afterward another one came, and still others, until finally the room was full of excited and rebellious boys. The latest comer was Plumpy.