"But now that he's put it in the paper, he'll be sure to catch me, for I'm only six miles from Selman;" and the big tears began to roll down the boy's cheeks, marking their course by the clean lines they left.
"Folks that know him wouldn't any more think of sending you back to him than they would of cutting your hand off," said the man, as he shook his fist savagely in the direction Captain Babbige was supposed to be.
"But what does he want us for, when he's always wanted to get rid of us?" persisted the boy, stooping down to caress a very queer-looking dog, whose body seemed to have been stretched out, and whose legs looked as if they had been worn down by much running.
"I reckon I can tell you why he wants you, Tim, and when you get older it'll do you some good to know it. He's your uncle, an' your legal guardian, an' I've been told by them that knows that he's got quite a sum of money belonging to you, which would all be his if you should die. Some day, when you are of age, you come back here and claim it; but don't you let him get hold of you again now."
"Indeed I won't," replied the boy, trembling at the thought of the fate which would be his if he should be so unlucky as to fall into the Captain's clutches again.
"Run away from here so far that he can't find you, and when you get a place where you can go to work, be as good a boy as I've always known you to be, and you'll come out of this trouble by being a good, honest man. Here are a couple of dollars for you, and I only wish it was in my power to take you home with me and keep you. But Rufe Babbige would soon break that up, and the best thing you can do is to trudge off as fast as possible."
The boy tried to thank the kind-hearted shop-keeper, but the tears were coming so fast, and the big sob in his throat had got so far up toward his mouth, that he could not utter a word.
Just then a customer entered the store, and he hurried away at once, closely followed by the odd-looking dog, which displayed, in his way, quite as much affection for the boy as the boy did for him.
Down through the one street of the little village, out on to the country road, the two walked as if they were already foot-sore and weary; and when at last they came to where the road wound along through the woods, Tim sat down on a rock to rest, while Tip huddled up close beside him.
"It's kinder too bad to be called such names in the papers, ain't it, Tip?" said the boy, speaking for the first time since they had left the store, "an' I think he ought to be 'shamed of hisself to talk so about you. It ain't your fault if your legs is short, an' your tail gone; you're worth more'n all the dogs in this world, an' you're all that I've got to love me, an' we'll never go back to let Captain Babbige beat us any more, will we, Tip?"