“Oh, well, I’ll not try to avoid them by slipping out of the window, Henry. If they are making their preparations, I might as well meet them and show them that I’m not afraid of them.” “They’ll handle ye rough, Mister Miller,” said the boy, his face pale. “They’re mighty mean men, them fellers that Hank Sprowl has helpin’ him.” “I know that, Henry. I’m much obliged for your kindness in coming to warn me. Now you had better go, before they see you, and handle you roughly also.” “I’ll go. Well, good-by, Mister Miller. I hope they won’t put no tar an’ feathers onto ye.” “I hardly think they will, Henry. Good-by.” Then the boy dropped to the ground, and disappeared into the brush at the back of the schoolhouse. Miller slowly and thoughtfully lowered the window, returned, took a seat at his desk, and sat there, gazing toward the door and evidently doing a lot of thinking. He glanced toward the window once or twice, and then resolutely rose and walked to the door, and opening it, stepped out of doors--to be confronted by Hank Sprowl and the three Tories. “Good evening, gentlemen,” greeted Miller, pleasantly. “Fine evening, is it not?” The men exchanged glances, and it was evident that they were somewhat taken aback by the coolness and _sang froid_ of their intended victim. “Good evenin’,” said Sprowl, gruffly. “Yas, et’s a fine evenin’--a fine evenin’ to put geese-feathers onto rebel birds like ye! Hey, fellers?” The others nodded, and one said: “Ye’re right, Hank.” “What do you mean?” asked Miller, pretending that he did not grasp Sprowl’s meaning. “I mean that we’re goin’ to give ye a coat of tar and feathers, ye blamed rebel!” snarled Sprowl. “That’s what I mean.” Miller looked from one to another inquiringly, and then said: “Why should you want to do that?” “I’ve jest told ye,” replied Sprowl, harshly. “Because ye’re a rebel, that’s why.” “But I’m not a rebel.” “I know better. Ye air a rebel. We’ve heerd how ye talk in favor of the rebels, and how ye hev said as how ye hope ther rebels will win in ther war ag’in ther king. Ye kain’t deny that ye hev talked in favor of ther rebels, an’ so now we’re goin’ to give ye a coat of tar and feathers an’ twenty-four hours to git out of this part of the country. We don’t want no rebel a teachin’ our children rebel sentiments.” “I am sorry, my friends,” said Miller, calmly, “but I shall not quit teaching here unless told to do so by the men that hired me--and neither of you had anything to do with that. I will now go on home. Good evening,” and he walked quietly away. This action on his part so amazed the ruffians that they stood there, staring after him, with mouths agape. But Hank Sprowl presently recovered from his amazement, and said to his companions sharply: “After him, boys! We mustn’t let him git away. We’ll give him that coat of tar and feathers, that’s what we’ll do. Come with me.”