With one wild cry he fled.
As he passed out at the front door a shoulder of mutton, well-directed, struck the black coat in the small of the back.
"Bring the ladder! bring the ladder! I will go after him!" cried the Boer-woman, as Bonaparte Blenkins wildly fled into the fields.
***** Late in the evening of the same day Waldo knelt on the floor of his cabin.

He bathed the foot of his dog which had been pierced by a thorn.
The bruises on his own back had had five days to heal in, and, except a little stiffness in his movements, there was nothing remarkable about the boy.
The troubles of the young are soon over; they leave no external mark.
If you wound the tree in its youth the bark will quickly cover the gash; but when the tree is very old, peeling the bark off, and looking carefully, you will see the scar there still.

All that is buried is not dead.
Waldo poured the warm milk over the little swollen foot; Doss lay very quiet, with tears in his eyes.

Then there was a tap at the door.

In an instant Doss looked wide awake, and winked the tears out from between his little lids.
"Come in," said Waldo, intent on his work; and slowly and cautiously the door opened.
"Good evening, Waldo, my boy," said Bonaparte Blenkins in a mild voice, not venturing more than his nose within the door.