ane persons are endowed with
extraordinary strength, and it flashed upon him that the boy had become
suddenly insane.

The horror of being in conflict with a crazy boy so impressed him that
he cried for help.

Then it was that Tom Tapley, gathering all his strength, lifted up the
prostrate farmer and pitched him downstairs just as Mrs. Badger was
mounting them, so that she and her husband fell in a breathless heap on
the lower stairs, to the indescribable dismay of Andrew Jackson.

Mrs. Badger was the first to pick herself up.

"What does all this mean, Mr. Badger?" she asked.

"That's what I'd like to know," said Mr. Badger ruefully.

"You don't mean to say you ain't a match for a boy?" she demanded
sarcastically.

"Perhaps you'd like to try him yourself?" said her husband.

"This is very absurd, Mr. Badger. You know very well he's weak for a boy
of sixteen, and he hasn't had anything to eat since morning."

"If you think he's weak, you'd better tackle him," retorted Nathan. "I
tell you, wife, he's got the strength of a man and a strong man, too."

"I don't understand it. Tell me exactly what happened."

"Well, you saw me go upstairs with the stick Andrew Jackson gave me,"
said Mr. Badger, assuming a sitting position. "I saw the boy lyin' on
the bed, snoring and I up with my stick and brought it down pretty hard.
He quivered a little, but that was all. So I thought I'd try it again.
He jumped out of bed and sprang on me like a tiger, grinding his teeth,
but not saying a word. I tell you, wife, he seemed as strong as a horse.
I couldn't get up, and he sat and pounded me."

"The idea of being pounded by a small boy!" ejaculated Mrs. Badger.

"Just what I'd have said a quarter of an hour ago!"

"It seems impossible!"

"Perhaps it does, but it's so."

"He never acted so before."

"No, and he never hit Andrew Jackson before, but yesterday he did it. I
tell you what, wife, I believe the boy's gone crazy."

"Crazy!" ejaculated Mrs. Badger and Andrew in a breath.

"Just so! When folks are crazy they're a good deal stronger than it's
nateral for them to be, and that's the way with Bill Benton."

"But what could possibly make him crazy?" demanded Mrs. Badger
incredulously.

"It may be the want of vittles. I don't know as we'd orter have kept him
without his dinner and supper."

"I don't believe a bit in such rubbish," said Mrs. Badger, whose courage
had come back with the absolute silence in the attic