"I wouldn't want to do that," said Dab, as he suspended his pounding; but he added, to the tramp,—
"Now you'd better get up and run for it If you're caught around here again, it'll be the worse for you."
The vagabond staggered to his feet, and he looked savagely enough at Dab; but the latter looked so very ready to put in another hit with that terrible cudgel, and the whole situation was so unpleasantly suggestive of further difficulty, that the youngster's advice was taken without a word. That is, if a shambling kind of double limp can be described as a "run for it."
"Here it is: I've found my pocket-book," said Annie, as her enemy made the best of his way off.
"He did not hurt you?"
"No: he only scared me, except that I suppose my arm will be black-and-blue where he caught hold of it. Thank you ever so much, Dabney: you're a brave boy. Why, he's almost twice your size."
"Yes; but the butt of my rod is twice as hard as his head," said Dabney. "I was almost afraid to strike him with it. I might have broken his skull."
"You didn't even break your rod."
"No; and now I must run back for the other pieces and the tip. I dropped them in the road."
"Please, Dabney, see me home first," said Annie. "I know it's foolish, and there isn't a bit of danger; but I must confess to being a good deal frightened."