Amen.
Within a minute the three mutineers had marched into the middle of the
room. In loud, ear-piercing notes they began to sing "Pull for the
Shore." The girls giggled nervously; the boys grinned; several opened
their mouths to sing, but closed them again as Alethea-Belle descended
from the rostrum and approached the rebels. The smallest child knew
that a fight to a finish had begun.
The schoolmarm raised her thin hand and her thin voice. No attention
was paid to either. Then she walked swiftly to the door and locked it.
The old _adobe_ had been built at a time when Indian raids were
common in Southern California. The door was of oak, very massive; the
windows, narrow openings in the thick walls, were heavily barred. The
children wondered what was about to happen. The three rebels sang with
a louder, more defiant note as Alethea-Belle walked past them and on
to the rostrum. Upon her desk stood a covered basket. Taking this in
her hand, she came back to the middle of the room. The boys eyed her
movements curiously. She carried, besides the basket, a cane. Then she
bent down and placed the basket between herself and the boys.
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