The little fellows whose hands were red and stinging with cold worked with double energy, and the larger ones ceased throwing at one another, stepped back to places where they were not so likely to be seen from the road, and by common consent formed an ambush for the unsuspecting teacher.
When he came within range a ball thrown by George Dewey, which knocked off his cap, was the signal for a general attack, and the next minute he thought himself in the center of a hailstorm, the hailstones being as large as country newspapers ever represent them. After the first sensation of bewilderment, he realized the situation, and being a man of quick wit, with some experience of boys, he saw what was the one proper thing to do.
Coolly laying down his book on his cap where it rested on the snow, and paying little attention to the balls that were still whizzing round him, he proceeded to make five or six, as round and solid as could be desired. Then, looking for the leader of the attack, and recognizing him in Dewey, he charged upon that youngster and delivered every ball with unerring aim. It was so good an exhibition of marksmanship that all the other combatants stood still and looked on, their appreciation of all good throwing balancing their repugnance to all teachers.
When he had delivered his last ball, which Master Dewey received courageously and good-naturedly in the breast, Mr. Pangborn picked up his book and his hat and resumed his walk, the small boys now coming to the front and sending their feeble shots after him.
"I'm afraid he's game," said Tom Kennedy.
"I'm not afraid of it, I'm glad of it," said Sim Nelson. "I want him to be game. Of course we must try to lick him, before the term's over, but I hope we won't succeed. I want the school to go on, and want to learn something. This may be my last winter, for I've got to go to a trade pretty soon. I was just getting a good start last winter. I was nearly through fractions when we licked old Higgins and he gave up the school."
"Then why do we lick the teacher at all?" said Sammy Atkinson.
"I suppose it wouldn't answer not to," said Sim. "What would the boys over in the Myers district say if we didn't give him a tug?"
"The boys in the Myers district tried it with their teacher last week, and got licked unmercifully," said Bill Ammon.
"At any rate," said Sim, "it appears to be an old and settled fashion. Father had a visit last night from a schoolmate, and they were talking over old times, and I heard them give a lively description of a fight with a teacher. After they had driven out three men in three winters, the trustees engaged a woman teacher. She was tall and strong, and not afraid of anything. Of course they couldn't fight her, because she was a woman; but all the same she laced those boys with a rawhide whenever they broke the rules. But father said she hadn't much education; she never took them beyond simple fractions, because she didn't understand arithmetic beyond that point herself. When they got there she would say, 'I think now we ought to take some review lessons; I believe in thoroughness.' And in the reading class she taught them to say So'-crates and Her'-cules, instead of Soc'-ra-tes and Her'-cu-les. Father said the boys learned lots of obedience that winter, but nothing else."