“Why did you do it?”
“I could hardly help it. I saw the old sinner sitting right under a bee’s nest fixing up a switch; and I guessed he was fixing it for me. Then he stood up, and began switching somebody with an unholy joy on his measly old face, and I knew he was switching me. I couldn’t stand for that, and I began letting fly stones at the hole in the tree, and that old pirate was so enjoying the imaginary whipping he was giving me that he didn’t notice a thing till the bees came out in a body and took a hand. It wasn’t so very bad, was it, Ben?”
Ben grinned.
“It was good for him,” he made answer.
“But what am I to do? I don’t want any more whippings like I got this morning.”
“It’s all right for a while, anyhow,” returned Ben. “I’ve told Pete’s son that if he says a word about it to anyone I’ll give him what you would get. I’ve scared him, and he’s promised to keep quiet.”
“Oh, thank you, Ben,” cried Clarence, who had been thoroughly frightened. “You’re splendid; and if ever I can do anything for you and yours, I’ll do it, no matter what. Say, look at the old fox. Isn’t he a sight?”
Pete had just reached dry land. His appearance justified Master Clarence’s remark. Looking at his neck, one might surmise that Pete was suffering from goiter aggravated by an extreme case of mumps. As for his face, it gave one the impression that Pete had engaged in a prize fight, and remained in the ring for several rounds after he had been defeated. Pete, punctuating his steps with a fine flow of profanity, made for the larger tent. He was seen no more that day.
Clarence having made a most unsuccessful attempt to look sympathetic, went to the river and took a swim. Clarence knew the river now; it had no terrors for him. Whenever he went swimming (and he had been doing this several times each day) one or another of the gypsy men followed him into the water.
That evening, having finished, amid great enthusiasm on the part of his auditors, Treasure Island, Clarence contrived to have a few words in private with Dora.