About an hour before the close of the afternoon school Phineas Morton went up to the teacher’s desk and said: “I have a bad headache, Mr. Howard. If you will excuse me, I would like to go home.”

“Certainly, Mr. Morton. Are you often troubled in that way?”

“About once a week. It affects me so that I cannot study while it lasts.”

“You had better go. I hope you will soon recover.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Phineas went back to his seat, took a couple of books from his desk, and went out of the schoolroom. Peter Groot exchanged looks with John Wall. All had happened as he desired. Now he felt safe in precipitating a conflict.

His first overt act was to drop his slate heavily on the floor. The noise was such as to draw general attention. Walter looked up, but as he had no evidence that the disturbance was intentional, he said nothing. Five minutes later, Peter, having piled all his books near the edge of his desk, gave them a push and they, too, dropped on the floor.

“Be a little more careful, Peter,” said Walter, mildly. “You are disturbing the school.”

Peter mistook this mild tone for a confession of timidity, and it emboldened him. He threw up his head, and, leaning back in his seat, stared insolently at the young teacher, as much to say: “What are you going to do about it?”

“It’s coming,” thought Walter. “Well, it’s just as well now as at any other time.”

“Peter, will you pick up your books?” he said, calmly.

Peter made no motion to obey, but sat still, staring insolently at the teacher.

“Didn’t you hear me?” said Walter.

“Yes,” said Peter, “I heard you.”

“Then why don’t you obey me?”

“I will pick them up when I get ready,” said Peter, impudently.

Walter found it difficult to restrain his temper at this open insolence, but he succeeded by an effort.

“You appear to forget that I am the teacher of this school, and you are my scholar,” said Walter.

“You are a boy like me,” said Peter. “I ain’t goin’ to be ordered round by a boy no older than I am.”

“I am aware,” said Walter, quietly, “that I am only a boy, and that some of my pupils, probably yourself, are older than I am. But that does not alter the fact that I am your teacher. The trustees knew my age when they appointed me teacher. They placed me here not only to teach, but to keep good order. I have had no trouble thus far with any one but you. What is your object in making trouble?”

“I ain’t goin’ to be ordered round by a boy,” said Peter.

“I don’t intend to do any ordering, except what is absolutely necessary. But I intend to keep order,” said Walter, firmly. “You can continue to attend school, and I will do my best to advance you in your studies, or you can leave it, if you are unwilling to be orderly. Take your choice.”

“I am comin’ to school,” said Peter, “and I will behave as I have a mind to.”

“Not if I can prevent it,” said Walter, resolutely, his eyes flashing with anger.

“What are you goin’ to do about it?” demanded Peter, insolently.

“Come out on the floor if you would like to be informed.”

“I shall stay where I am,” said Peter, defiantly.

“I have no objection, but you must keep order.”

Peter’s answer to this was to throw his slate on the floor.

Walter felt that the time for forbearance was past. If he suffered this insolence to go unpunished his authority in the school was overthrown. In that case he might as well retire at once. Moral suasion was thrown away upon Peter Groot. He must understand what was meant by physical suasion.

“Scholars,” said Walter, “I am sorry for what is about to happen, but I call you to witness that it has been forced upon me.”

He walked up to Peter’s desk, eying him in a quiet, determined manner.

“You have defied my authority,” he said, “and insulted me before the rest of the scholars. You believe me to be unable to enforce my orders. Come out on the floor and I will convince you to the contrary.”

“I am comfortable where I am,” said Peter, glancing about him triumphantly.

“Then, as you don’t accept my offer, I must force it upon you.”

Walter, who now stood beside Peter’s desk, seized him suddenly by the collar, and by a quick movement, jerked him into the aisle between the desks. Peter had not anticipated this. He was astonished and indignant beyond measure. The smile of triumph faded from his face, and his features were distorted with rage.

“You’ll be sorry for this!” he screamed, adding an oath, which is better omitted. “I’ll pay you up for it.”

He knew how to fight after his style, and prepared to “pitch in” in his customary manner. Walter had drawn back a little, so as to be clear of the desks, and Peter followed him up. He aimed a blow at the young teacher’s head, which would have been likely to give him a headache, but Walter had assumed an attitude of defence, and fended it off with the greatest ease. Peter quickly followed up the blow by another quite as vigorous. But this again was warded off. Walter did not immediately act offensively. He wished before doing so to show Peter that his own efforts were futile. In proportion as Peter discovered the ill success of his attempts to hit his opponent, his rage became more ungovernable, and he began to curse and swear. At length, when he felt it to be time, Walter retaliated. One swift, well-planted blow, which Peter was utterly unable to ward off, and the troublesome pupil found himself lying upon his back on the floor of the schoolroom.

Walter remained standing, a little flushed, but otherwise calm, and made no attempt to prevent Peter’s rising. Peter was not a hero, but he was not altogether without pluck, and he was up again quickly and ready to renew the contest.

Walter held himself in readiness, but did not speak. He wished this to be a decisive battle. “I will give Peter all the chance he wants,” he said to himself. “He must find out once for all that I am more than his match, and then he will cease to trouble me.”

Peter pitched in again, but he was unable to profit by the lessons he had learned. He saw that the teacher was more scientific than himself, but feeling that in strength he was quite his equal, he did not understand why he could not match him. He tried to grasp Walter around the waist, which would, of course, have given him a decided advantage, and neutralized Walter’s superior science, but our hero was too wary for this. Taking advantage of Peter’s unguarded state, he planted another heavy blow, which, like the first, prostrated his opponent.

The scholars looked on with intense interest. Not one except John Wall sympathized with Peter. Not one was sorry to see the insolent boy receiving his deserts. Some of the better class had feared that the new teacher would prove unequal to the encounter, but a very short time undeceived them. When Peter went down a second time there was a stamping of feet, intended as applause.

“Be kind enough not to applaud,” said Walter, turning to them. “I am glad your sympathies are with me, but I hope you will not mortify your schoolfellow, who, I hope, will some time be ashamed of the course which he is now taking.”

This manly request raised Walter still higher in the opinion of his pupils. They saw that he had no desire to triumph over Peter; that he was only influenced by the desire to maintain his authority. When Peter had renewed the contest, and again been thrown, Walter addressed him calmly: “If you wish to keep on, Peter, I will accommodate you, but you must know by this time that you stand no chance of success. I know something of boxing, and it is clear that you do not.”

“I’m as strong as you are,” growled Peter.

“You may be, but you don’t know how to use your strength. Suppose we stop here, and forget all that has happened. I shall bear you no grudge, and shall only expect the same of you that I do from the other scholars.”

“That’s fair, Peter,” said half a dozen boys from their seats.

Peter did not answer, but on the other hand he did not offer to renew the contest. He rose and walked quietly to his desk, and seated himself, with his opinions of the “master’s” prowess decidedly revolutionized. Walter walked back to the teacher’s desk, and quietly called the next class. He might have felt a little excited by the conflict in which he had just been engaged, but, if so, he did not betray it in his manner. He was very glad that the ordeal was over, and that his efforts were crowned with success. He had known boys like Peter before, and he felt confident that he should have no more trouble with him. He made up his mind neither by look nor word to remind Peter of his defeat, but to do all he could to spare him humiliation. He wanted, if possible, to convert him from an enemy to a friend.