It was Almon Goodwin who came limping forward. Everybody knew the cripple, and Mr. Willard said kindly:
“Why, Almon, I didn’t see you before; are you mixed up in this shameful business?”
“The only shameful part of it is what that big boy did. He took off my hat and threw a stone through it. Look what a hole he made, and it’s the only hat I have; I cried and asked him to give it back, but he laughed at me and was going to throw another stone through it, when Decker there called him a coward, served his hat the same way, and then Buck Kennon went for him. My! didn’t Jim let him have it! He must have loosened all his teeth and made his nose flatter than it ever was before. If he hadn’t got down, he would have given him the worst licking he ever had.”
Mr. Willard turned toward young Decker, who had replaced his hat, brushed his soiled garments, and was so well over his rough usage that he smiled at the words of little Almon Goodwin.
“Young man, is that so?” demanded the gentleman in a stern voice. “Did that bully attack you because you were defending Almon from his persecution?”
“Yes, sir,” modestly replied Decker.
“Young man, come here, sir,” thundered the congressman.
James stepped forward, wondering whether he, too, was to feel the weight of that black, shining cane.
“Give me your hand, sir; I’m proud of you, sir.”