Andy the Acrobat | Page 2

greeted
Andy Wildwood's daring walk across the quivering cable.
Then the culminating climax: the giving way of the chimney, a shower
of bricks--but the young gymnast, safe and serene, dangling from the
eaves.
"Last week also," continued the schoolmaster, "you stole Farmer Dale's
calf and carried it five miles away. You are complained of continually.

As I said, young man, you have reached the limit. Human patience and
endurance can go no farther. You are demoralizing this school. And
now," concluded Mr. Darrow, his lips setting grimly, "you must toe the
mark."
A hush of expectancy, of rare excitement, pervaded the room. The
schoolmaster swung aloft the ruler with one hand. He swung Andy
around directly in front of him with the other hand.
Andy's face suddenly grew serious. He tugged to get loose.
"Hold on, Mr. Darrow," he spoke quickly. "You mustn't strike me."
"How? what! defiance on top of rebellion!" shouted the irate
pedagogue. "Keep your seats!" he roared, as half the school came
upright under the tense strain of the moment.
The next he was struggling with Andy. Forward and backward then
went over the clear recitation space. The ruler was dropped in the
scrimmage. As Mr. Darrow stooped to repossess it, Andy managed to
break loose.
Dodging behind the zinc shield that fronted the stove, he caught its top
with both hands. He moved about presenting a difficult barrier against
easy capture. Andy looked pretty determined now. The schoolmaster
was so angry that his face was as red as a piece of flannel. He advanced
again upon the culprit, so choked up that his lips made only inarticulate
sounds.
"One minute, please, Mr. Darrow," said Andy. "You mustn't try to whip
me. I can't stand it, and I won't. It hasn't been the rule here, ever. I did
wrong, though I couldn't help it, and I'm sorry for it. I'll stand double
study and staying in from recess and after school for a month, if you
say so. You can put me in the dark hole and keep me without my dinner
as long as you like. I have lots of good friends here. I'd be ashamed to
face them after a whipping--and I won't!"
"Yes, yes--he's right!" rang out an earnest chorus.

"Silence!" roared the schoolmaster. "An example must be made. I shall
do my duty. Andrew Wildwood--Graham! what do you mean, sir?"
The scholars thrilled, as a new and unexpected element came into the
situation.
Graham, quite a young man, and double the weight of the schoolmaster,
had arisen from his seat. He walked quietly between Mr. Darrow and
Andy, quite pushing back the former gently.
"The lad is right, Mr. Darrow," he said, in his quiet, drawling way. "I
wouldn't punish him before the scholars if I were you, sir."
"What's this? You interfere!" flared out the pedagogue.
"Don't take it that way, Mr. Darrow," said Graham. "You are displeased,
and justly so, sir, but boys will be boys. Andy is the right kind of a lad,
I assure you, only in the wrong kind of a place. They did the same thing
with me when I was young. If they hadn't, I wouldn't be here spelling
out words of two syllables at twenty-eight years of age."
Andy's eyes glistened at the big scholar's friendliness. A murmur of
approbation ran round the room.
Silently the pedagogue fumed. The disaffection of the occasion, mild
and respectful as it was, disarmed him. He regarded Andy with a
despairing look. Then he straightened up with great dignity.
"Take your seat, sir!" he ordered Andy severely, marching back to his
own desk.
"Yes, sir," said Andy humbly.
"Pack up your books."
Andy looked up in dismay. The fixed glint in the schoolmaster's eye
told him that this new move meant no fooling.
"Now you may go home," resumed Mr. Darrow, as Andy had obeyed

his first mandate.
Andy kept a stiff upper lip, though he felt that the world was slipping
away from him.
A picture of an unloving home, a stern, hard mistress who would make
use of this, his final disgrace, as a continual club and menace to all his
future peace of mind, fairly appalled him.
He arose to his feet, swinging his strapped up books to and fro airily,
but there was a dismal catch in his voice as he turned to the teacher's
desk, and said:
"Mr. Darrow, I guess I would rather take the whipping."
"Too late," pronounced the relentless schoolmaster in icy tones.
And then, as Andy reached the door amid the gruesome silence and
awe of his sympathetic comrades, Mr. Darrow added the final dreadful
words:
"You are expelled."

CHAPTER II
HOOP-LA!
Andy Wildwood passed out of the village schoolhouse an anxious and
desolate boy.
The brightest of sunshine gilded the