“He wouldn't steal me away easy!” said Abner, defiantly; “but, then, I ain't a little kid like you.”
“I'm not a kid,” said Herbert, who was not used to slang.
“Oh, you don't know what I mean—you're a little boy and couldn't do nothin'. If he tried to take me, he'd find his hands full.”
Herbert, who was not very much prepossessed by Abner's appearance, thought it very doubtful whether any one would ever attempt to kidnap him.
“What's he goin' to do with you?” continued Abner.
“I don't know. I expect he'll make papa pay a good sum to get me back.”
“Humph!” remarked Abner, surveying with some contempt the small proportions of the boy before him. “You ain't much good. I don't believe he'll pay much for you.”
Tears sprang to the eyes of the little boy, but he forced them back.
“My papa would think differently,” he said.
“Papa!” mimicked Abner. “Oh, how nice we are! Why don't you say dad, like I do?”