"Brush, that's pretty good, it's just like the ploughs I've seen," I remarked as I passed the toy to Edwin.
"'Tain't good," said Edwin, after he had examined it a while. "I think the handles are too straight."
"This ought to be kind of crooked, come down like this," put in Lester, indicating with his finger the outline of the beam as it should have been, according to his notion.
Our heads were close together looking at the plough, when a sudden consciousness as of the presence of something disagreeable stole upon us. A sound like the snapping of a twig made us all look up, and there stood Jim, a big boy, one of the worst that ever entered our school, and who had been excluded from all the "gangs" on account of his vicious, meddlesome disposition. With a contemptuous grin, he passed his eyes from one boy to the other, as though to discern the character of each one. When this unpleasant stare fell upon Warren, he bristled up, gave back a defiant look, and kept it steadily upon the unwelcome visitor. Without relaxing the mirthless smile, so characteristic of him, Jim addressed the boy, "Warren, I just come from the spring, where a lot of boys was talking. I heard Gid say that he could lick you. I told him I'd come and tell you what he said. Then he says, 'I don't care, I ain't 'fraid of him!'"
"You go and tell Gid," said Warren, springing to his feet, "I can lick two like him, and I'll show him any time he wants me to."
The mischief-maker had read well the character of Warren, and had won from him the expected reply.
We resumed our examination of the plough thinking that our interview with the tale-bearer had ended. Jim thrust his hands into his pockets, and walked uneasily about; he came to where little Bob was sitting, and, pulling out a warty hand, he pointed his finger at the boy's face, making a hissing sound between his teeth. Jim never passed by a chance to tease a smaller boy. Bob put his hands to his face and began crying. We all rose to our feet; Edwin moved forward in a threatening attitude, and said, "Jim, you let that boy alone. What you want to tease him for?"
Jim turned away, looked up into a tree, threw a stone at a bird, and then slowly sauntered off.
We sat down again to resume our talk about Brush's little plough, but our minds seemed to turn in another direction.