They glanced congratulations at each other out
of the corners of their eyes.
"Now boys," said the president in conclusion, "you have promised me
faithfully to mend your conduct. To keep this promise fresh in your
memory, I have something to give you. My motto is to leave the best for
the last, so Master Paul will retain his seat. Take off your
jacket, Stockdale."
Disappointment and dismay were depicted on the two faces. Stockie made
many fruitless attempts to unbutton his jacket, unbuttoning two buttons
and buttoning one. At last the president's patience gave out and he
rushed on his victim with the strap. Now, in the room was an old-
fashioned bed, in which ropes were fastened from side to side, in lieu
of slats. To escape the strap, Stockie dove under this bed. The
president, who was somewhat rheumatic, could not reach him very well, so
he called upon the prefect and Paul to assist him in removing the bed.
They moved it from side to side around the room in vain, for Stockie was
holding on to the bed cords. Paul felt like an executioner to his
friend; but life is sweet. He glanced furtively at the prefect and
saw him convulsed with smothered laughter. The president made frantic
attempts to dislodge Stockie and Paul dashed through the door to
liberty.
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