"Now don't be an ass, Tom," said East, catching hold of him; "you know
me well enough by this time; my bark's worse than my bite. You can't
expect to ride your new crotchet without anybody's trying to stick a
nettle under his tail and make him kick you off--especially as we shall
all have to go on foot still. But now sit down, and let's go over it
again. I'll be as serious as a judge."
Then Tom sat himself down on the table, and waxed eloquent about all the
righteousnesses and advantages of the new plan, as was his wont whenever
he took up anything, going into it as if his life depended upon it, and
sparing no abuse which he could think of, of the opposite method, which
he denounced as ungentlemanly, cowardly, mean, lying, and no one knows
what besides. "Very cool of Tom," as East thought, but didn't say,
"seeing as how he only came out of Egypt himself last night at bedtime."
"Well, Tom," said he at last, "you see, when you and I came to school
there were none of these sort of notions. You may be right--I dare say
you are. Only what one has always felt about the masters is, that it's
a fair trial of skill and last between us and them--like a match at
football or a battle. We're natural enemies in school--that's the fact.
We've got to learn so much Latin and Greek, and do so many verses, and
they've got to see that we do it. If we can slip the collar and do so
much less without getting caught, that's one to us.
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