Mr Barlow asked the little boy where his father lived; and he told him that his father lived about two miles off, across the common, and at the end
of Runny Lane; on which Mr Barlow told Harry that he would send the poor man some broth and victuals if he would carry it when it was ready. "That I will," said Harry, "if it were five times as far." So Mr Barlow went into the house to give orders about it.
In the mean time Tommy, who had eyed the little boy for some time in silence, said, "So, my poor boy, you have been beaten and hurt till you are all over blood, only because I gave you my clothes. I am really very sorry for it." "Thank you, little master," said the boy, "but it can't be helped; you did not intend me any hurt, I know; and I am not such a chicken as to mind a beating; so I wish you a good afternoon with all my heart."
As soon as the little boy was gone, Tommy said, "I wish I had but some clothes that the poor boy could wear, for he seems very good-natured; I would give them to him." "That you may very easily have," said Harry, "for there is a shop in the village hard by where they sell all manner of clothes for the poor people; and, as you have money, you may easily buy some."
Harry and Tommy then agreed to go early the next morning to buy some clothes for the poor children. They accordingly set out before breakfast, and had proceeded nearly half-way, when they heard the noise of a pack of hounds that seemed to be running full cry at some distance. Tommy then asked Harry if he knew what they were about. "Yes," said Harry "I know well enough what they are about; it is Squire Chase and his dogs worrying a poor hare. But I wonder they are not ashamed
to meddle with such a poor inoffensive creature, that cannot defend itself. If they have a mind to hunt, why don't they hunt lions and tigers, and such fierce mischievous creatures, as I have read they do in other countries?" "Oh! dear," said Tommy, "how is that? it must surely be very dangerous." "Why, you know," said Harry, "the men are accustomed in some places to go almost naked; and that makes them so prodigiously nimble, that they can run like a deer; and, when a lion or tiger comes into their neighbourhood, and devours their sheep or oxen, they go out, six and seven together, armed with javelins; and they run over all the woods, and examine every place, till they have found him; and they make a noise to provoke him to attack them; then he begins roaring and foaming, beating his sides with his tail, till, in a violent fury, he springs at the man that is nearest to him." "Oh! dear," said Tommy, "he must certainly be torn to pieces." "No such thing," answered Harry; "he jumps like a greyhound out of the way, while the next man throws his javelin at the lion, and perhaps wounds him in the side; this enrages him still more; he springs again like lightning upon the man that wounded him, but this man avoids him like the other, and at last the poor beast drops down dead with the number of wounds he has received." "Oh," said Tommy, "it must be a very strange sight; I should like to see it out of a window, where I was safe." "So should not I," answered Harry; "for it must be a great pity to see such a noble animal tortured and killed; but they are obliged to do it in their own defence. But
these poor hares do nobody any harm, excepting the farmers, by eating a little of their corn sometimes."
As they were talking in this manner, Harry, casting his eyes on one side, said, "As I am alive, there is the poor hare skulking along! I hope they will not be able to find her; and, if they ask me, I will never tell them which way she is gone."
Presently up came the dogs, who had now lost all scent of their game, and a gentleman, mounted upon a fine horse, who asked Harry if he had seen the hare. Harry made no answer; but, upon the gentleman's repeating the question in a louder tone of voice, he answered that he had. "And which way is she gone?" said the gentleman. "Sir, I don't choose to tell you," answered Harry, after some hesitation. "Not choose!" said the gentleman, leaping off his horse, "but I'll make you choose in an instant;" and, coming up to Harry who never moved from the place where he had been standing, began to lash him in a most unmerciful manner with his whip, continually repeating, "Now, you little rascal, do you choose to tell me now?" To which Harry made no other answer than this: "If I would not tell you before, I won't now, though you should kill me."
But this fortitude of Harry, and the tears of Tommy, who cried in the bitterest manner to see the distress of his friend, made no impression on this barbarian, who continued his brutality till another gentleman rode up full speed, and said, "For any sake, Squire, what are you about? You will kill the child, if you do not take care." "And the