n, after a hasty
examination of the victim had convinced her that Irene was more
frightened than hurt.

"Gun! Ha, ha, ain't that rich?" mocked Billiard.

"'Twas a slingshot," volunteered Toady.

"And he shooted a rock," added Janie.

Tabitha held out her hand with an imperious gesture. "Pass it over
quietly, or I shall make you."

Billiard calmly pocketed the article in dispute, and seeing that Irene
was recovering under the heroic treatment of her amateur nurses, he
seated himself in tantalizing silence upon the saw-horse, as if to
enjoy the scene he had created. But his enjoyment was short lived.
Tabitha, now thoroughly aroused, and forgetful of her dignity, swooped
down upon the tormentor, wrested his slingshot from his grasp, and
before anyone could divine her intentions, seized a barrel stave from
the woodpile and gave the surprised boy a sound drubbing.

In the midst of the thrashing, there came vividly to her mind her
childish horror of that day of reckoning with her father, when he had
struck her with one of his slippers, and she recalled the fact that it
was not the physical hurt, but the humiliation of the blow which had
wounded her most deeply. Flinging down the stick, she released the
struggling lad as suddenly as she had seized him; and in tones that
sounded husky in spite of herself, briefly ordered, "Go to your room!"

Angry, stunned, shamed, Billiard bounced through the kitchen, slammed
the door of his room, turned the key in the lock and--stood still in
the middle of the floor. Whipped by a girl not four years his senior!
Whipped by a _girl_! It was an unforgivable outrage. He would get
even for that. But what was he to do? Would _could_ he do? She had
beaten him at every turn, she had set Toady against him, she had made
him the laughing stock of his cousins. He--he--he would do something
desperate. He would----

As if in answer to his thoughts, he heard a strange voice close beside
the open window say, "Yes, he has run away. The inspector completed
his job this morning, found Atwater's accounts five hundred dollars
short, and he skipped."

"Who?" demanded Mercedes. "The post-master?"

"Yep! Lit out. Can't have been gone more'n an hour, but no one seems
to have seen him anywhere around town, and they are scouring the
country for him."

Billiard drew a deep breath. That was an idea. Why hadn't he thought
of it before! He, too, would run away. Stealthily he crept to the