THE HOISTING.
Mrs. Lloyd gave Bert a more than usually affectionate kiss as he started
off for school next morning, and his father called after him:
"Remember, Bert, quit you like a man."
Yet who could blame the little fellow if his heart throbbed with
unwonted vigour all that morning, and that he watched the clock's hands
anxiously as they crept slowly, but steadily, round the dial, yellow
with age and service.
Frank had adopted an unconcerned, if not defiant air, which told plainly
enough that he had no idea of submitting quietly to the inevitable
ordeal. He was a born fighter. Strength, endurance, courage were
expressed in every line of his body. Indeed, as was seen in the matter
of the rows between the Garrison and the National boys, he thought a
good lively tussle to be fine fun, and never missed a chance of having
one.
The two boys were carefully examined by both Dr. Johnston and Mr.
Snelling as to the extent of their learning in the course of the
morning, and assigned to classes accordingly. They were given the same
work: English grammar and history, arithmetic, geography, Latin grammar,
&c., and a list given them of the books they would need to procure. They
were glad to find themselves in the same classes with Ernest Linton, who
had been only half-a-year at the school before them, for he seemed such
a kind, willing, obliging little chap that they both became fond of him
at once.
When recess came he slipped up to Bert and whispered in his ear:
"Stay in school, and then they can't get at you. Mr. Snelling always
stays, and they daren't come in for you."
"Not a bit of it," said Bert, emphatically. "The sooner it's over the
better. Come along, Shorty." And they marched bravely out, with Ernest
following closely behind.
As they stepped into the street, they found fifty or more of the boys
gathered about the door, evidently awaiting them. Instantly the cry was
raised, "The new boys--hoist them! hoist them!" And half-a-dozen hands
were laid upon Bert, who led the van, while others seized Frank to
prevent his running away. Bert made no resistance. Neither did Frank,
when he saw that his time had not yet come, as they were going to hoist
Bert first. Clinching his fists, and hunching his shoulders in readiness
for a struggle, he stood in silence watching Bert's fate.
What that would be was not long a matter of uncertainty. In the midst of
a noisy rabble of boys, many of whom were larger, and all older than
himself, he was borne along to the foot of the high fence that shut in
the yard which, as already described, was at the back of the school
building. Perched on top of this fence, and leaning down with
outstretched arms, were four of the largest lads, shouting at the top of
their voices, "Bring him along; hoist him up, hoist him!" The
unresisting Bert was brought underneath this quartette, and then his
hands were lifted up until they could grasp them in their own. So soon
as this was done, a pull all together on their part hoisted him up from
the ground, three feet at least, and then his legs were seized, lest he
should be tempted to kick. The next moment, as perfectly helpless, and
looking not unlike a hawk nailed to a barn-door by way of warning to
kindred robbers, Bert hung there, doing his best to keep a smile on his
face, but in reality half frightened to death. The whole crowd then
precipitated themselves upon him, and with tight-shut fists proceeded to
pummel any part of his body they could reach. Their blows were dealt in
good earnest, and not merely for fun, and they hurt just as much as one
might expect. Poor Bert winced, and quivered, and squirmed, but not a
cry escaped from his close-set lips. The one thought in his mind was,
"Quit you like men," and so buoyed up by it was he, that had the blows
been as hard again as they were, it is doubtful if his resolution to
bear them in silence would have faltered.
He did not know how long he hung there. It seemed to him like hours. It
probably was not longer than a minute. But, oh! the glad relief with
which he heard one of the leaders call out:
"That's enough, fellows; let him down. He stood it like a brick."
The blows ceased at once; those holding his hands swung him a couple of
times along the fence after the manner of a pendulum, and then dropped
him to the ground, where he was surrounded by his late persecutors, who
now, looking pleasant enough, proceeded to clap him on the back, and
tell him very emphatically that he was "a plucky little chap"; "one of
the right sort"; "true grit," and so forth.
Feeling sore and strained, from his neck to his heels, Bert would have
been glad to slip away into some corner and have a good cry, just to
relieve his suppressed emotions; but as he tried to separate himself
from the throng about him, he heard the shout of "Hoist him! Hoist him!"
again raised, and saw the leaders in this strange sport bear down upon
Frank Bowser, who, still in the hands of his first captors had looked on
at Bert's ordeal with rapidly rising anger.
The instant Frank heard the shout, he broke loose from those who held
him, and springing up a flight of steps near by, stood facing his
pursuers with an expression upon his countenance that looked ill for the
first that should attempt to touch him. A little daunted by his
unexpected action, the boys paused for a moment, and then swarmed about
the steps. One of the largest rushed forward to seize Frank, but with a
quick movement the latter dodged him, and then by a sudden charge sent
him tumbling down the steps into the arms of the others. But the
advantage was only momentary. In another minute he was surrounded and
borne down the steps despite his resistance.
The struggle that ensued was really heroic--on Frank's part, at all
events. Although so absurdly outnumbered, he fought desperately, not
with blows, but with sheer strength of arm and leg, straining to the
utmost every muscle in his sturdy frame. Indeed, so tremendous were his
efforts, that for a time it seemed as if they would succeed in freeing
him. But the might of numbers prevailed at length, and, after some
minutes' further struggling, he was hoisted in due form, and pounded
until the boys were fairly weary.
When they let him go, Frank adjusted his clothes, which had been much
disordered in the conflict, took his cap from the hands of a little
chap, by whom it had thoughtfully been picked up for him, and with
furious flaming face went over to Bert, who had been a spectator of his
friend's gallant struggle with mingled feelings of admiration for his
courage and regret at his obstinacy.
"They beat me, but I made them sweat for it," said he. "I wasn't going
to let them have their own way with me, even if you did."
"You might just as well have given in first as last," replied Bert.
"But I didn't give in," asserted Frank. "That's just the point. They
were too many for me, of course, and I couldn't help myself at last, but
I held out as long as I could."
"Anyway, it's over now," said Bert, "and it won't bother us any more.
But there's one thing I've made up my mind to: I'm not going to have
anything to do with hoisting other new boys. I don't like it, and I
won't do it."
"No more will I, Bert," said Frank. "It's a mean business; a whole crowd
of fellows turning on one and beating him like that."
Just then the bell rang, and all the boys poured back into the
schoolroom for the afternoon session.
Each in his own way, Bert and Frank had made a decidedly favourable
impression upon their schoolmates. No one mistook Bert's passive
endurance for cowardice. His bearing had been too brave and bright for
that. Neither did Frank's vigorous resistance arouse any ill-feeling
against him. Boys are odd creatures. They heartily admire and applaud
the fiery, reckless fellow, who takes no thought for the consequences,
and yet they thoroughly appreciate the quiet, cool self-command of the
one who does not move until he knows just what he is going to do. And so
they were well pleased with both the friends, and quite ready to admit
them into the full fellowship of the school.
The Lloyds were greatly interested by Bert's account of the hoisting.
They praised him for his self-control, and Frank for his plucky fight
against such odds, and they fully agreed with Bert that hoisting was a
poor business at best, and that he would be doing right to have nothing
to do with it.
"Perhaps some day or other you'll be able to have it put a stop to,
Bert," said his mother, patting his head fondly. "It would make me very
proud if my boy were to become a reformer before he leaves school."
"I'm afraid there's not much chance of that, mother," answered Bert.
"The boys have been hoisting the new chaps for ever so many years, and
Dr. Johnston has never stopped them."
That was true. Although he feigned to know nothing about it, the doctor
was well aware of the existence of this practice peculiar to his school,
but he never thought of interfering with the boys. It was a cardinal
principle with him that the boys should be left pretty much to
themselves at recess. So long as they did their duty during the school
hours, they could do as they pleased during the play hour. Moreover, he
was a great admirer of manliness in his boys. He would have been glad to
find in everyone of them the stoical indifference to pain of the
traditional Indian. Consequently, fair stand-up fights were winked at,
and anything like tattling or tale-bearing sternly discouraged. He had
an original method of expressing his disapprobation of the latter, which
will be illustrated further on. Holding those views, therefore, he was
not likely to put his veto upon "hoisting."
As the days went by, Bert rapidly mastered the ways of the school, and
made many friends among his schoolmates. He found the lessons a good
deal harder than they had been at Mr. Garrison's. And not only so, but
the method of hearing them was so thorough that it was next to
impossible for a boy who had come ill-prepared to escape detection. Dr.
Johnston did not simply hear the lesson; he examined his scholars upon
it, and nothing short of full acquaintance with it would content him. He
had an original system of keeping the school record, which puzzled Bert
very much, and took him a good while to understand.
On the doctor's desk lay a large book, something like a business ledger.
One page was devoted to each day. At the left side of the page was the
column containing the boys' names, arranged in order of seniority, the
boy who had been longest in the school being at the head, and the last
new boy at the foot. Each boy had a line to himself, running out to the
end of the page, and these parallel lines were crossed by vertical ones,
ruled from the top to the bottom of the page, and having at the top the
names of all the different classes; so that the page when ready for its
entries resembled very much a checker board, only that the squares were
very small, and exceedingly numerous. Just how these squares, thus
standing opposite each name, should be filled, depended upon the
behaviour of the owner of that name, and his knowledge of his lessons.
If Bert, for instance, recited his grammar lesson without a slip, the
letter B--standing for _bene_, well--was put in the grammar column. If
he made one mistake, the entry was V B, _vix bene_--scarcely well; if
two mistakes, Med, _mediocriter_--middling; and if three, M,
_male_--badly, equivalent to not knowing it at all. The same system
prevailed for all the lessons, and in a modified form for the behaviour
or deportment also. As regards behaviour, the arrangement was one bad
mark for each offence, the first constituting a V B, the second a Med,
the third an M, and the fourth a P, the most ominous letter of all,
standing, as it did, for _pessime_--as bad as possible--and one might
also say for punishment also; as whoever got a P thereby earned a
whipping with that long strap, concerning which Bert had heard such
alarming stories.
It will be seen that, by following out the line upon which each boy's
name stood, his complete record as a scholar could be seen, and upon
this record the doctor based the award of prizes at the close of the
term. For he was a firm believer in the benefits of prize-giving, and
every half-year, on the day before the holidays, a bookcase full of fine
books, each duly inscribed, was distributed among those who had come out
at the head in the different classes, or distinguished themselves by
constant good behaviour.
Once that Bert fully understood the purpose of this daily record, and
the principle upon which the prize-giving was based, he determined to be
among the prize winners at the end of the term. His ambition was fired
by what the older boys told him of the beautiful books awarded, and the
honour it was to get one of them. He knew that he could not please his
father or mother better than by being on the prize list, and so he
applied himself to his lessons with a vigour and fidelity that soon
brought him to the notice of the observant doctor.
"I am glad to see you taking so much interest in your work," said he one
morning, pausing, in his round of inspection, to lay his hand kindly
upon Bert's shoulder as the latter bent over his slate, working out a
problem in proportion. "A good beginning is a very important thing."
Bert blushed to the roots of his hair at this unexpected and, indeed,
unusual compliment from the grim master, who, before the boy could
frame any reply, passed out of hearing.
"We'll do our best, won't we, Shorty?" said Bert, turning to his friend
beside him.
"I suppose so," answered Frank, in rather a doubtful tone. "But your
best will be a good deal better than mine. The lessons are just awful
hard; it's no use talking."
"They are hard, Shorty, and no mistake. But you'll get used to them all
right," rejoined Bert, cheerfully.
"I guess I'll get used to being kept in and getting whipped, first,"
grumbled Frank.
"Not a bit of it," Bert insisted. "You just stick at them and you'll
come out all right."
The fact of the matter was, that poor Frank did find the lessons a
little more than he could manage, and there were a good many more "V
B's" and "Med's" opposite his name than "B's." He was a restless sort of
a chap, moreover, and noisy in his movements, thus often causing Mr.
Snelling to look at him, and call out sharply:
"Bowser, what are you doing there?" And Frank would instantly reply, in
a tone of indignant innocence:
"Nothing, sir."
Whereupon Mr. Snelling would turn to Dr. Johnston, with the request:
"Will you please put a mark to Bowser for doing nothing, sir?" And down
would go the black mark against poor Bowser, who, often as this
happened, seemed unable ever to learn to avoid that fatal reply:
"Nothing, sir."