“Where is your knife?”
“I haven't got any.”
“Then take the axe.”
There was an axe standing at the corner of the room. This the boy got, and, with the keen edge, severed the string.
Abner stretched himself to relieve his cramped limbs. Then he bethought himself of his late persecutor.
“Is that your dog?” he asked, surveying his four-legged enemy with no friendly expression.
“Yes, that's Carlo. Come here, Carlo.”
“He's been in here barking at me, and threatening to bite me, and now I'll have my revenge.”
“What do you mean?” inquired the boy, in alarm, as Abner seized the axe and swung it over his head.
“Stand aside, boy!”