CHAPTER III.
The great fight.
"Martin!" said the schoolmaster, in a severe tone, looking up from the book with which he was engaged, "don't look out at the window, sir; turn your back to it."
"Please, sir, I can't help it," replied the boy, trembling with eagerness as he stared across the fields.
"Turn your back on it, I say!" reiterated the master in a loud tone, at the same time striking the desk violently with his cane.
"O sir, let me out! There's Bob Croaker with my kitten. He's going to drown it. I know he is—he said he would; and if he does, aunty will die, for she loves it next to me. And I must save it; and—and if you don't let me out you'll be a murderer!"
At this concluding burst, Martin sprang forward and stood before his master with clinched fists and a face blazing with excitement. The schoolmaster's gaze of astonishment gradually gave place to a dark
