ber Nine called his lapses
from duty, he still taught, but in a perfunctory manner, being prone to
play practical jokes upon his pupils, which, of course, they returned
with interest. When he finally succumbed in sleep, with his feet on
the desk and his red spotted handkerchief over his face, Number Nine
took to the bush and proceeded to enjoy life. That they did not
altogether give themselves over to unbounded riot was due to the fact
that the master's awakening might occur at any moment. And well they
knew he was apt to come out of his lethargy with awful suddenness, with
a conscience lashing him for his weakness and with a stern
determination to work out tremendous reparation for the lost hours.

But Number Nine suffered little from this changeable conduct. They had
studied their master so faithfully that they could generally calculate
what would be the state of his temper at a given time, and guided
themselves accordingly. Indeed, Roarin' Sandy's Archie, a giant
MacDonald who had attended every winter since the schoolhouse was
built, could tell almost to a day when the master was likely to relax,
and he acted as a sort of barometer to the whole school.

But to-day McAllister showed no signs of relaxation as they dodged past
him and scrambled into their places. The room was soon filled, for the
winter term had commenced and all the big boys and girls of the section
were in attendance. The schoolroom was small, with rough log walls and
a raftered ceiling. Down the middle ran a row of long forms for the
younger children, and along the sides were ranged a few well carved
desks, at which the elder pupils sat when they wrote in their
copy-books. At the end nearest the door stood a huge rusty stove,
always red-hot in winter, and near it were a big wooden water-pail and
tin dipper. At the other end of the room stood the master's desk, a
long-legged rickety structure, with a stool to match, from which lofty
throne the ruler of Number Nine could command a view of his realm and
spy out its most remote region of insubordination. Behind him was the
blackboard, a piece of sheep-skin used as an eraser, and an ancient and
tattered map of Europe.

Scotty was already in his place; he had hurried to his seat as soon as
he arrived for fear someone might ask him his name, and in dread lest
he might be claimed by those English boys from the Tenth, whom his soul
loathed.

He had started to school at a time when the several