for the interest
of the class and caught it. With some a term of school had been as
a long sickness, lengthened by the medicine of books and the
surgery of the beech rod. They had resented it with ingenious
deviltry. The confusion of the teacher and some incidental fun
were its only compensations. The young man gave his best thought
to the correction of this mental attitude. Four o'clock came at
last--the work of the day was over. Weary with its tension all sat
waiting the teacher's word. For a little he stood facing them.

"Tom Linley and Joe Beach," said he, in a low voice, "will you wait
a moment after the others have gone? School's dismissed."

There was a rush of feet and a rattle of dinner pails. All were
eager to get home with the story of that day--save the two it had
brought to shame. They sat quietly as the others went away. A
deep silence fell in that little room. Of a sudden it had become a
lonely place.

The teacher damped the fire and put on his overshoes.

"Boys," said he, drawing a big silver watch, "hear that watch
ticking. It tells the flight of seconds. You are--eighteen, did
you say? They turn boys into oxen here in this country; just a
thing of bone and muscle, living to sweat and lift and groan.
Maybe I can save you, but there's not a minute to lose. With you
it all depends on this term of school. When it's done you'll
either be ox or driver. Play checkers?"

Tom nodded.

"I'll come over some evening, and we'll have a game. Good night!"

XV

The Tinker at Linley School

Every seat was filled at the Linley School next morning. The
tinker had come to see Trove and sat behind the big desk as work
began.

"There are two kinds of people," said the teacher, after all were
seated--"those that command--those that obey. No man is fit to
command until he has learned to obey--he will not know how. The
one great thing life has to teach you is--obey. There was a young
bear once that was bound to go his own way. The old bear told him
it wouldn't do to jump over a precipice, but, somehow, he couldn't
believe it and jumped. 'Twas the last thing he ever did. It's
often so with the young. Their own way is apt to be rather steep
and to end suddenly. There are laws everywhere,--we couldn't live
without them,--laws of nature, God, and man. Until we learn the
law and how to obey it, we must go carefully and take the advice of
older heads. We couldn't run a school with