“Thank you,” sobbed the boy; and then in a whisper, “My hip hurts as if it was put out.”
“Not so bad as that,” said Dominic in a low tone; and he helped the boy along till Green looked back, saw what was taking place, and shouted:
“Now then, none of that, Convict. He’s only shamming. Let him alone.”
“Don’t let him touch me, Nic,” whispered the boy piteously; “I can hardly walk.”
Dominic said nothing, but his brow was full of lines; and he looked down at the ground and supported his companion by tightly holding his arm.
“Do you hear?” roared Green, stopping now. “I told you to leave that little sham alone.”
“I’m not shamming, Nic,” sobbed the boy in a whisper; “it hurts dreadfully every time I move my leg.”
“Oh, you won’t, won’t you?” cried Green menacingly. “I shall have to give you a lesson too, Master Braydon, and transport you into a better state of mind. Stand aside, will you?”
As he came up he struck Nic a back-handed blow across the chest, forcing him backward and making Tomlins utter a cry of pain.
“Now then, none of that,” continued Green. “Go on, and take care of those birds,—go on!”