d yet there is scarcely a day passes that I am
not obliged to cane him; and even that does him no good, as far as
I can see, for he seems to forget it, five minutes after it is
over. I wonder, sometimes, if he has really got hardened, and
doesn't feel it.

"He is sharp, and does his lessons well. I have no difficulty with
him, on that score; but he is a perfect imp of mischief."

With such characteristics, it need hardly be said that Bob Repton
was one of the most popular boys at Tulloch's school.

School life was, in those days--for it was in August, 1778, that
Bob was at Tulloch's--a very different thing to what it is, at
present. Learning was thrashed into boys. It was supposed that it
could only be instilled in this manner; and although some masters
were, of course, more tyrannical and brutal than others, the cane
was everywhere in use, and that frequently. Lads, then, had far
less liberty and fewer sports than at present; but as boys' spirits
cannot be altogether suppressed, even by the use of the cane, they
found vent in other ways, and there was much more mischief, and
more breaking out of bounds, than now take place. Boys were less
trusted, and more harshly treated; in consequence of which there
was a kind of warfare between the masters and the boys, in which
the masters, in spite of their canes, did not always get the best
of it.

Bob Repton was nearly fifteen. He was short, rather than tall for
his age, but squarely built and strong. His hair could never be got
to lie down, but bristled aggressively over his head. His nose was
inclined to turn up, his gray eyes had a merry, mischievous
expression, and his lips were generally parted in a smile. A casual
observer would have said that he was a happy-go-lucky, merry,
impudent-looking lad; but he was more than this. He was shrewd,
intelligent, and exceptionally plucky; always ready to do a good
turn to others, and to take more than his fair share of blame, for
every scrape he got into. He had fought many battles, and that with
boys older than himself, but he had never been beaten. The opinion,
generally, among the boys was that he did not feel pain and, being
caned so frequently, such punishment as he got in a fight was a
mere trifle to him.

He was a thorn in the side of Mr. Purfleet, the usher who was
generally in charge of the playground; who had learned by long
experience that, whenever Bob Repton was quiet, he was certain to
be planning some special pi