Andrew danced and yelled with pain.
“You nasty, abominable little wretch,” he shrieked, “won’t I pay you out for this.”
“What are you about, boys?” cried Faith, who, tied up with her back to this exciting scene, was terrified at these alarming sounds. “Di, do go and see what they are doing.”
But Di was busy now giving chase to Hubert, whom she had been stealthily trying to capture, so she had no ears for Fay.
As to Phoena, no one heeded her gentle remonstrances.
“It’s only fun, Gaston,” she assured him.
“Of course it is, we’re only rotting you,” said Phil.
“Oh, are we,” cried Andrew, savagely, breaking off a stout hazel switch as he spoke, “we’ll see about that; ogre or no ogre, I’ll teach him to bite me again. Hold him down, Jack, and I’ll give him the jolliest licking he’s ever yet had.”
And before anyone could stop him, Andrew had delivered a cruel cut on Gaston’s small prostrate person.
A piercing yell from the victim rang and echoed again through the wood.