“Oh! please, sir—oh! sir—don’t, sir—oh! pray, sir!”
In my hard-heartedness and excitement I showed no mercy, but every time I got near enough as we panted on I gave him a sharp cut, and he would have been punished far worse if all at once I had not run right into a hanging bough of one of the pears, and gone down backwards, while when I scrambled up again my stick was gone.
I felt that if I waited to search for it I should lose the boy I meant to make a prisoner, and ran on in the direction where I could hear his steps.
Knowing the garden as I did I was able to make a cut so as to recover the lost ground, for I realised that he was making for the wall, and I was just in time to catch him as he scrambled up one of the trained trees, and had his chest on the top.
He would have been over in another second or two had I not made a jump at his legs, one of which I caught, and, twisting my arms round it, I held on with all my might.
“Oh! oh!” he yelled pitifully. “Pray let me go, sir. I’ll never come no more, sir. Help! oh my! help!”
“Come down,” I panted as well as I could for want of breath, “come down!” and I gave the leg I held a tremendous shake.
“Oh!—oh! Pray let me go this time, sir.”
“Come down,” I cried again fiercely, and I nearly dragged him from the wall, as I held on with all my might.
“No, sir! oh, sir! It wasn’t me, sir. It was—oh, please let me go!”