“Don’t you do that again, Andrew!” he said. “I won’t stand it!”
“You won’t stand it?” repeated Andrew tauntingly. “What will you do about it, I’d like to know?”
“You have no right to hit me, and I won’t submit to it,” said Bill with a spirit which quite astonished the young tyrant.
He laughed scornfully and repeated the blow, but with more emphasis.
Even the most gentle and long-suffering turn sometimes, and this was the case now.
The bound boy lifted the hoe and with the handle struck Andrew so forcibly that he dropped upon the ground, bellowing like a calf.
Like most bullies he was cowardly, and the unexpected resistance and the pain of the blow quite overcame his fortitude, and he cried like a baby.
It must be confessed that the bound boy was frightened by what he had done. Too well he knew that he would suffer for his temerity. Besides, his compassion was aroused for Andrew, whom he thought to be worse hurt than he was.
He threw down the hoe and kneeled by the prostrate boy.
“Oh, Andrew, I hope I didn’t hurt you!” he cried. “I ought not to have struck you.”