“Hitch that thing to Billy’s tail.”
“Yes; what if I did?”
Without retort to this, Merry again gave his attention to the girl, who was continuing to bestow caresses on the burro.
“Billy is not hurt, Felicia,” he said gently. “Don’t cry any more. Are you sure he didn’t hurt you when he knocked you down?”
“Not much,” was her assurance. “Just here some,” pressing her hand to her side. “And here a little.”
But when he pushed back her sleeve he found her arm was bruised and bleeding slightly.
At this moment, having been attracted by the rumpus, Juan Delores, the father of little Felicia, came hastily upon the scene. He was a man of few words, and it seemed that past experience must have told him who was to blame for what had happened, as he gave the dark-eyed boy a quick look, then lifted the child and carried her into the house.
“Dick,” said Frank, to the boy, “I have something to say to you.”
Again the lad gave him a defiant look, but did not speak.
“Come into the house,” said Merry, as he started toward the door.