“Well, I’ll remember you, all right, for it,” promised Ned. “I’ll give you ducks’ wings till you can’t rest.”
“Oh, I didn’t do it for that!” cried Zu-zu, skipping off.
“Do you want to go home, Ned?” inquired Hal, tenderly.
“No, of course not,” declared Ned. “I’m going to slide some more. It’ll take more than a black eye to get me off this hill!”
And during this recent fracas, what of Bob—Bob, who brought on the fray? The rule of romance demands that he should have launched himself to Ned’s aid, and put the enemy to flight with his teeth. But no; this history must take a different course. Twice kicked by heavy boots, to which he had done no wrong; trampled upon by many feet, and thrust aside by many legs, quite regardless of the plight into which he had forced his master, he had turned tail and had trotted for home.
In his own mind, he had been sorely abused; and with the spirits taken out of him by the ill-treatment, he made straight for shelter.
When his master appeared, with eye now surrounded by a blue-black mat, Bob, never considering it, seemed to think that himself, and not Ned, had been the sufferer.