“Throughout the hall was a stillness like death, so that one could only hear the wheezing and puffing of the victim whom the little brother was smothering against his breast. All eyes were hanging on the little fellow; we all had a feeling that we could not look on at it any longer.
“When, therefore, the third blow had fallen and the whole performance repeated itself just as before, a general excited whisper followed: ‘Now, it is enough—strike no more!’
“Long K, who had become quite red from the exertion, was raising his arm again for the fourth blow, but with one accord, three or four threw themselves between him and Big L, tore the rattan from his grasp, and thrust him back.
“The execution was at an end.
“The cadet aforesaid raised his voice once more, but only half aloud.
“‘Now, the affair is over with and buried,’ said he, ‘let each one give his hand to L No. I, and let him that breathes even a word of the matter be accounted a rascal.’
“A general ‘Yes, yes,’ showed that he had spoken entirely in accord with the mind of the others. They stepped up to Big L and stretched out their hands to him, but then, as at a word of command, they threw themselves upon Little L. There formed a regular knot about the lad, first one and then another wished to grasp him by the hand and shake it. Those standing at the back stretched out their hands ’way across those in front, some even climbed on to the table to get at him; they stroked his head, patted him on the shoulder, and with it all was a general whispering: ‘Little L, you glorious rascal, you superb Little L.’”
The old colonel lifted his glass to his mouth—it was as if he were forcing something down behind it. When he set it down again, he drew a deep sigh from the bottom of his heart.
“Boys like that,” said he, “they have instinct—instinct and sentiment.
“The lights were turned out, all stole hushed through the corridor back to their rooms. Five minutes later every boy was lying in his bed, and the affair was ended.