"Grind me this," he said, in a commanding tone, despite the broken and twisted accents. "I will pay for it when I return."
The surprise occasioned by our actions at the meeting had evidently struck the crowd of youngsters dumb, but they were soon started again in their shouts of laughter by the difficulty that my uncle and I immediately had with the little brown horse. How so feeble a man as he appeared to be could ever manage the restive beast at all was more than I could see. Full half a dozen times he failed to make the saddle, even with my assistance, and this started the boys in their shouts of derision, and even drew laughter from the windows in which some of the mill-crew had gathered.
At last, however, I succeeded in getting the old gentleman into the saddle, and, obeying him, I crawled up behind him and placed my arms about his waist. But between my lack of knowledge, the horse's scampering, and the old man's weakness, we almost came to grief more than once.
Three of the little rapscallions, who of course could not follow us, for we had started on a run down the road, cut across the meadow by a path, as if intending to head us off for some reason.
They reached the main roadway first, and were waiting in an orchard at the end of a stone wall for us to go by. I noticed that they had gathered some apples, which they held in the hollows of their arms, much as boys carry snow-balls in an attack. I had been angry before, but now my one desire was to get at them. I often fear that I must be a vindictive person indeed.
As we approached they let fly, of course, and one of the apples caught my uncle squarely in the forehead. He would have fallen, I believe, had I not held him for an instant, and reaching forward I caught the reins and brought the little horse to a sudden halt. Then I slipped from my seat to the ground, and with no weapons but my closed fist I charged the enemy.
It is not bragging to say that from some ancestor I have inherited immense strength, and even at the age of thirteen I believe I should have been a match and more for some lads four or five years older. (Since I have been sixteen years old even I have never met a grown man who could force down my arms or twist a finger with me.) But to return: I caught the first boy a jolt with my closed fist on the side of the head, and seizing the second, who came to his rescue, I fairly believe I threw him over the fence without so much as touching it. He landed on some loose stones on the other side, and set up a tremendous bawling. The third lad did not stop to get a chance, but legged it as fast as he could across the meadow. I was so angry now that I believe murder was in my heart, and I picked up the broken branch of a tree and stood over the first boy whom I had struck. He looked up at me and began to beg for mercy.
"Bravo!" called my uncle from the horse, that for a wonder was standing still. "Bravo, mon enfant!"
He was wiping the juice of the apple from his eyes, but catching my glance he threw me a kiss from his finger-tips, and laughed a laugh of congratulation and sympathetic triumph.