Ernest was usin' tactics too. He wasn't
wastin' strength and beatin' his arms around. He just smiled. That
smile aroused the teacher in Leander agin. He couldn't stand it. He
had never had a boy do that before; he forgot himself and sailed in.
Boys, that was fightin' then. You'd have enjoyed it, Henery. Still, I
guess it couldn't have been much to watch, for there was nothin' to see
but dust--a rollin', roarin' cloud of it, backward and forward over the
platform. I don't know just what happened. Pap couldn't tell.
Leander couldn't 'a' told you. Ernest couldn't 'a' told you. There
was war--real war, and after it come peace."
"Ernest whipped, I know," cried Henry Holmes.
"The teacher was licked--good--good!" shouted Isaac Bolum.
"No, boys," said Josiah solemnly, "that couldn't have been. Even in
fairy stories sech things couldn't happen. But when the dust cleared
away, Leander's body lay along the floor, and towerin' over him, one
foot on his boosom, stood the darin' scholar. I guess the teacher had
been took ill.
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