At length Malison stopped, exhausted, and turning, white with rage, towards Annie, who was almost in a fit with agony, repeated the order: "Hold up your hand." But as he turned Alec bounded to his feet, his face glowing, and his eyes flashing, and getting round in front, sprang at the master's throat, just as the tawse was descending.

Malison threw him off, and lifting his weapon once more, swept it with a stinging lash round his head and face.

Alec, feeling that this was no occasion on which to regard the rules of fair fight, stooped his head, and rushed, like a ram, or a negro, full tilt against the pit of Malison's stomach, and doubling him up, sent him with a crash into the peat fire which was glowing on the hearth.

In the attempt to save himself, he thrust his hand right into it, and Alec and Annie were avenged.
Alec rushed to drag him off the fire; but he was up before he reached him.
"Go home!" he bawled to the scholars generally, and sat down at his desk to hide his suffering.
For one brief moment there was silence.

Then a tumult arose, a shouting, and holloing, and screeching, and the whole school rushed to the door, as if the devil had been after them to catch the hindmost.
Strange uproar invaded the ears of Glamerton--strange, that is, at eleven o'clock in the forenoon of Monday--the uproar of jubilant freedom.
But the culprits, Annie and Alec, stood and stared at the master, whose face was covered with one hand, while the other hung helpless at his side.