Here an extraordinary thing happened. There was a dipping of Cully's head between Billy's legs, a raising of both arms, grabbing Billy around the waist, and in a flash the hope of the house of McGaw was swept off his feet, Cully beneath him, and in full run toward Tom's house. The bystanders laughed; they thought it only a boyish trick. Billy kicked and struggled, but Cully held on. When they were clear of the crowd, Cully shook him to the ground and grabbed him by the coat-collar.
“Say, young feller, where wuz ye when de fire started?”
At this Billy broke into a howl, and one of the crowd, some distance off, looked up. Cully clapped his hand over his mouth. “None o' that, or I'll mash yer mug—see?” standing over him with clenched fist.
“I warn't nowheres,” stammered Billy. “Say, take yer hands off'n me—ye ain't”—
“T'ell I ain't! Ye answer me straight—see?—or I'll punch yer face in,” tightening his grasp. “What wuz ye a-doin' when de circus come out—an', anoder t'ing, what's dis cologne yer got on yer coat? Maybe next time ye climb a fence ye'll keep from spillin' it, see? Oh, I'm onter ye. Ye set de stable afire. Dat's what's de matter.”
“I hope I may die—I wuz a-carryin' de can er ker'sene home, an' when de roof fell in I wuz up on de fence so I c'u'd see de fire, an' de can slipped”—
“What fence?” said Cully, shaking him as a terrier would a rat.
“Why dat fence on de hill.”
That was enough for Cully. He had his man. The lie had betrayed him. Without a word he jerked the cowardly boy from the ground, and marched him straight into the kitchen:—
“Say, Carl, I got de fire-bug. Ye kin smell der ker'sene on his clo'es.”