As our eyes met, he looked at me like a fierce dog who was watching for an opportunity to make a successful snap; but as he saw me trickle a few more drops of water between the man’s lips, his face suddenly grew eager, and he looked at me, found my eyes fixed upon him, and slowly opened his mouth widely.
“Want some water?” I said; and I was going to him when he jerked himself fiercely away, and showed his beautiful white teeth at me.
“Wo ho!” cried Morgan. “Mind, lad, or he’ll have his teeth in you.”
“He’s thirsty,” I said; and I held the tin baler half full of water to him.
He looked at me, then at the water, and I could see his lips move and his teeth part, showing his dry tongue quivering like that of a dog. Then he fixed his eyes upon me again fiercely.
“Let me give it him,” said Morgan, as the boy’s mouth opened widely again, and there was a pitiful, imploring look in his eyes.
Now I could not understand all that when I was so young, but I’ve often thought about it since, and seemed to read it all, and how nature was making him beg for water for his parched tongue, while his education forced upon him the desire to fight me as a cruel enemy.
“There,” I said, going a little nearer, pushing the baler close to his hands, and drawing back.
He looked at me, then at the water, and back at me, fixing me with his eyes, as one hand stole slowly from his side towards the baler, drawing it nearer and nearer stealthily, as if in dread of my snatching it away; and then it was at his lips, and he gulped down the contents.
“There, I’m not going to hurt you,” I said, stretching out my hand for the baler, and getting it, meaning to go and fill it once more; and as I returned I saw that he was watching me so wildly that I walked up, with him shrinking away as far as he could go, and offered the tin to him again.