t fettered his
wrists, and danced in glee round John Haynes, in whose discomfiture he
felt great delight.

"You'd better pick up your pail and run home," said Frank. He was
generously desirous of saving John from further humiliation. "Will you
go away quietly if I will let you up, John?" he asked.

"No, d---- you!" returned John, writhing, his face almost livid with
passion.

"I am sorry," said Frank, "for in that case I must continue to hold you
down."

"What is the trouble, boys?" came from an unexpected quarter.

It was Mr. Maynard, who, chancing to pass along the road, had been
attracted by the noise of the struggle.

Frank explained in a few words.

"Let him up, Frank," said the old man. "I'll see that he does no further
harm."

John rose to his feet, and looked scowlingly from one to the other, as
if undecided whether he had not better attack both.

"You've disgraced yourself, John Haynes," said the old farmer
scornfully. "So you would turn negro-whipper, would you? Your talents
are misapplied here at the North. Brutality isn't respectable here, my
lad. You'd better find your way within the rebel lines, and then perhaps
you can gratify your propensity for whipping the helpless."

"Some day I'll be revenged on you for this," said John, turning
wrathfully upon Frank. "Perhaps you think I don't mean it, but the day
will come when you'll remember what I say."

"I wish you no harm, John," said Frank composedly, "but I sha'n't stand
by and see you beat a boy like Pomp."

"No," said the farmer sternly; "and if ever I hear of your doing it,
I'll horsewhip you till you beg for mercy. Now go home, and carry your
disgrace with you."

Mr. Maynard spoke contemptuously, but with decision, and pointed up the
road.

With smothered wrath John obeyed his order, because he saw that it would
not be safe to refuse.

"I'll come up with him yet," he muttered to himself, as he walked
quietly toward home. "If he doesn't rue this day, my name isn't John
Haynes."

John did not see fit to make known the circumstances of his quarrel with
Frank, feeling, justly, that neither his design nor the result would
reflect any credit upon himself. But his wrath was none the less deep
because he brooded over it in secret. He would have renewed his attempt
upon Pomp, but there was something in Mr. Maynard's eye which assured
him that his threat would be carried out. Frank, solicitous for the
little fellow's safety, kept vigilant wa