BREAKING AWAY
Dave Dashaway was almost speechless. His tyrant master had struck him in a tender spot, indeed. Not that Dave had ever been foolish enough to build extravagant hopes on his model. It had been all guess work and an experiment. However, his soul had been wrapped up in his labor, he had been proud and pleased with his progress as an inventor, and that mean, vengeful act of the old man roused him up terribly.
“What busted that wagon?” demanded Mr. Warner, grasping Dave’s arm till the pain was unbearable.
Dave jerked loose, and panting and angry-faced confronted his guardian with a look that made the old man hesitate. His lip trembled, but he held his speech as steady as he could, as he replied:
“Dobbin got scared and ran into the ditch.”
“With your star-gazing after those airships I’ll warrant.”
This was so near the truth that Dave did not reply.
“What do you suppose will pay for all that damage to that wagon?” demanded Warner.
“I suppose my hard work will,” bluntly replied Dave.
“Your hard work—bah! It looks as if you was worked hard, fritting half of the afternoon away, spending hours and hours on that worthless piece of trumpery up in the barn loft. I’ve settled for good and all. Now you put up that horse, get your supper, and go to your room. You dare to leave it till I say so, and I’ll just call the sheriff up here again, and see what he says about affairs.”