Here a stream of cold pickle-water, heavy with ribs and shoulders, descending on his head, abruptly terminated his speech. Half-blinded, Bonaparte looked up through the drops that hung from his eyelids, and saw the red face that looked down at him. With one wild cry he fled. As he passed out at the front door a shoulder of mutton, well-directed, struck the black coat in the small of the back.

“Bring the ladder! bring the ladder! I will go after him!” cried the Boer-woman, as Bonaparte Blenkins wildly fled into the fields.

Late in the evening of the same day Waldo knelt on the floor of his cabin. He bathed the foot of his dog which had been pierced by a thorn. The bruises on his own back had had five days to heal in, and, except a little stiffness in his movements there was nothing remarkable about the boy.

The troubles of the young are soon over; they leave no external mark. If you wound the tree in its youth the bark will quickly cover the gash; but when the tree is very old, peeling the bark off, and looking carefully, you will see the scar there still. All that is buried is not dead.

Waldo poured the warm milk over the little swollen foot; Doss lay very quiet, with tears in his eyes. Then there was a tap at the door, In an instant Doss looked wide awake, and winked the tears out from between his little lids.

“Come in,” said Waldo, intent on his work; and slowly and cautiously the door opened.

“Good-evening, Waldo, my boy,” said Bonaparte Blenkins in a mild voice, not venturing more than his nose within the door. “How are you this evening?”

Doss growled and showed his little teeth, and tried to rise, but his paw hurt him so he whined.

“I’m very tired, Waldo, my boy,” said Bonaparte plaintively.

Doss showed his little white teeth again. His master went on with his work without looking round. There are “some people at whose hands it is best not to look. At last he said,

“Come in.”

Bonaparte stepped cautiously a little way into the room, and left the door open behind him. He looked at the boy’s supper on the table.

“Waldo, I’ve had nothing to eat all day — I’m very hungry,” he said.

“Eat!” said Waldo after a moment, bending lower over his dog.

“You won’t go and tell her that I am here, will you, Waldo?” said Bonaparte most uneasily. “You’ve heard how she used me, Waldo? I’ve been badly treated; you’ll know yourself what it is some day when you can’t carry on a little conversation with a lady without having salt meat and pickle-water thrown at you. Waldo, look at me; do I look as a gentleman should?”

But the boy neither looked up nor answered, and Bonaparte grew more uneasy.

“You wouldn’t go and tell her that I am here, would you?” said Bonaparte, whiningly. “There’s no knowing what she would do to me. I’ve such trust in you, Waldo; I’ve always thought you such a promising lad, though you mayn’t have known it, Waldo.”