"Why, yes, he is Donald Murdoch. Don't you remember Cousin Ellen Murdoch, who lived in our house? He is her son."
"Yes, yes," Mr. Snyder slightly loosened his grip upon Donald and appeared to be considering the matter. After a moment's pause he spoke again. "This is the youngster then, who caused you so much trouble I suppose."
"Ye-es," Eleanor answered reluctantly.
"Pestered the little darky so she had to leave and was the cause of her getting a broken arm?" He gave Donald a shake that made the boy's teeth chatter.
"Yes," spoke up Florence, for Eleanor was silent, "and he tried to hurt Bubbles again just a day or two ago." Mr. Snyder's grip on the boy's shoulder made the boy wince.
"Told lies about you; took your playhouse and helped himself to anything he wanted without so much as a 'by your leave,' didn't he?" Mr. Snyder kept up his remarks to Eleanor.
"Oh, yes," Eleanor found her voice again, "but his mother would feel so dreadfully about it if you send him to jail."
Mr. Snyder's face relaxed some of its grimness. "Come in here, all of you," he said, "and we'll have a little trial by jury. Here, boy, stand there. Don't you dare to budge one inch or it will be the worse for you. You and your companions have trespassed on my property, and have injured a valuable colt for me besides doing other damage. I am going to sift the matter to the very bottom, and if you don't tell the truth you'll get such a whipping as you never had. Now, sir, speak up; let's hear your story. Did you or didn't you throw stones at the colt?"
Don glanced around. He saw a set of stern faces, only in Eleanor's eyes was a pitying look. He began to cry softly and she took a step forward but Mr. Snyder waved her back. "Wait a minute. Tell me, boy, did you throw the stone that hit the colt?"
"The other fellows did, too," replied Don.