Turning, Keith seized and held him.
"What are you doing, Dave Dennison, confound you ?" he demanded angrily.
"I'm one of 'em," blubbered the boy, trying to reach him with both fist and foot.

"I don't let nobody hit my brother." Keith found that he had more trouble in quelling Dave, the smallest member of the Dennison tribe, than in conquering the bigger brothers.
"Sit down and behave yourself," he said, shoving him into a seat and holding him there.

"I'm not going to hit him again if he behaves himself." Keith, having quieted Dave, looked to see that Jake was not much hurt.
He took out his handkerchief.
"Take that and wipe your face with it," he said quietly, and taking from his desk his inkstand and some writing-paper, he seated himself on a bench near the door and began to write letters.

It grew late, but the young teacher did not move.

He wrote letter after letter.