Clare thought for a moment whether it would not be right to kill such a traitor. His mind was full of history-tales, and, like Dante, he put treachery in its own place, namely the deepest hell. But with the thought came the words he had said so many times without thinking what they meant—“Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive them that trespass against us,” and he saw that he was expected to forgive Tommy.
“Tommy, I forgive you,” he said solemnly, “and will be friends with you again; but I have said it, and I was right to say it, and into the water-butt you must go! I can’t trust your word now, and I think I shall be able to trust it after that.”
Ere he had finished the words, Tommy lifted up his voice in a most unearthly screech.
Instantly Clare had him by the throat, so that he could not utter a sound.
“Tommy,” he said, “I’m going to let you breathe again, but the moment you make a noise, I’ll choke you as I’m doing now.”
With that he relaxed his hold. But Tommy had paid no heed to what he said, and began a second screech the moment he found passage for it. Immediately he was choked, and after two or three attempts, finally desisted.
“I won’t!” he said.
“You shall, Tommy. You’re going head over in the butt. We’re going to it now!”
Tommy threw himself upon the ground and kicked, but dared not scream. It was awful! He would drop right through into the great place where the moon was!
Clare threw him over his shoulder, and found him not half the weight of the parcel of linen. Tommy would have bitten like a weasel, but he feared Clare’s terrible hands. He was on the back of Giant Despair, in the form of one of the best boys in the world. Clare took him round the wall, and over the fence into the blacksmith’s yard. The smithy was quite dark.