“Just the way with that plaguy Sam,” added Mr. Hapley. “He’s never about when anything’s to be done. Here, Sam! Sam!” he called at the top of his voice; but Sam did not respond, and Mr. Hapley continued, “What did you give ’em such a mess of hay for? They’ve wasted more’n half of it, and got it all over the barn. I don’t see what you was thinking of. We can’t afford to litter the critters with hay, when it’s as skerce as ’tis now.”
“I don’t think I gave them too much,” replied Mrs. Hapley. “The fact is, they don’t like the hay, and they wont eat it up clean.”
“Where’s Benny?” inquired Mr. Hapley, suddenly noticing that his youngest boy was absent.
“He’s gone out to play,” replied his wife.
“I told you not to let him go out in the slosh—he’ll be sick ag’in, you see if he aint,” said Mr. Hapley.
“He’s dressed warmly, and got his thick boots on,” replied Mrs. Hapley. “It is so pleasant that I thought it would do him good to be out a little while in the air.”
Mr. Hapley withdrew to the barn, and was feeding his horses, when a loud scream from Benny startled him. Running to a window in the back of the barn, he saw the cause of the outcry. Sam had thrown Benny down in the snow, and was pushing him about in it, and rubbing it into his face and neck. They were by the roadside, a few rods from the barn. Mr. Hapley flew to the door, and called to Sam, but Benny’s outcry drowned his voice. He then ran towards them, but Sam had finished the assault, concluding with a few vigorous kicks, before he saw his father approaching. Mr. Hapley was so enraged at what he had witnessed, that he could hardly listen to a word of explanation. Benjamin, a lad of nine years, was his youngest child, and was supposed by the rest of the family to be the father’s favorite. He was not at this time in robust health, which added to Mr. Hapley’s excitement, on seeing him abused by Sam. The origin of the assault, which Mr. H. did not stop to investigate fully, was this. Benny, seeing his brother coming up the road, hid himself behind a stone wall, until he had passed, and then playfully threw a soft snow-ball at him, which chanced to hit him on the head, though not with much force. Sam instantly started for his little brother, who fled; but overtaking him, the unfeeling boy pitched him into a snow bank, and rolled him in it, then “washed his face in snow,” sprinkled several handfuls of the fleecy element down his neck and back, and finally kicked him, as has been stated.
Mr. Hapley led the boys as far as the barn, and after telling Benny to go into the house, and ask his mother to take care of him, he pushed Sam into the barn, assuring him that he would attend to him. Having closed the doors, he ordered Sam to take off his coat, but the refractory boy refused. Enraged at this, the father seized him, and a desperate struggle ensued, the boy resisting even to blows, and the anger of the other waxing fiercer every moment. But Mr. Hapley was a powerful man, and the result of the contest was not long in doubt. The coat was stripped from the boy’s back, and despite his efforts to escape, he soon found himself bound hand and foot to a post, utterly helpless. As it was useless to struggle, he now betook himself to yelling, which he did with such effect that all the family were soon drawn to the spot. But Mr. Hapley sternly ordered them all away, and then taking a heavy cart whip, commenced beating the boy with great severity. Soon the cries of the sufferer again brought the mother and the younger children to the spot, and despite the father’s commands, Mrs. Hapley and Jessie entered the barn, and with tears pleaded for Sam. But the father, whose natural feelings were now blunted and benumbed by liquor, and whose wrath was stirred almost to its lowest depths by the resistance Sam had offered, took no notice of the sympathizing intruders, but kept on with the cruel punishment.
Marcus, who had heard the first outcry, and suspected the nature of the trouble, ran at once over to Mr. Hapley’s, and entered the barn just at this juncture. The mother and daughter both besought him to interpose in behalf of the unfortunate boy, whose shirt was already slightly stained with blood. On his entrance, however, Mr. Hapley stayed his hand, and, looking somewhat abashed, as Marcus thought, inquired—
“What do you want here, sir?”