"What has happened to you? Did you fall and hurt yourself?"
"My uncle knocked me over and I fell against a block of wood."
"What made him attack you?" inquired Bob, indignantly.
"I don't know; he got mad with me for nothing at all. He's been in an awful temper all the morning. Something must have happened to vex him."
Bob smiled. He could understand what had happened. Wolverton's disappointment at the failure of his villainous plan had no doubt soured him, and, like a born bully, he had vented his spite upon the poor boy who was dependent upon him.
"I wish you'd more spunk, Sam," Bob said. "He wouldn't dare to attack me in that way."
"You're stronger and braver than I am, Bob. I can't be like you. I wish I could."
"Your uncle is no more nor less than a bully. He imposes upon you because he thinks it is safe to do so. He wouldn't dare tackle me, because he knows it wouldn't be safe."
"Bob," said Sam, solemnly, "I've borne it as long as I'm going to. I am not going back to my uncle's house."
"Do you mean this, Sam?"