he was frightening his enemy into fits, grew more and
more aggressive.

"Yes, I can see," cried Pete. "I've got eyes in my head, same as you
chaps as come from London, and think yerselves so precious sharp.
Yer've no right to come down and pick what's meant for poor people.
Give 'em here."

He wrenched the basket from Tom's arm, and scattered its contents away
amongst the furze-bushes, sending the basket after them.

"There, that's what you'll get if yer comes picking and stealing here.
How d'yer like that, young blunt 'un?"

"Not at all," said Tom, who looked very white, and felt a peculiar
tingling about the corners of his lips and in his temples.

"Course yer don't; but yer've got to like it, and so I tell yer. Smell
that."

He placed his fist within an inch of Tom's nose, and the boy could not
help smelling it, for it was strong of pulling onions, or peeling them
with his nails.

"Now, then, how much money have yer got with yer?"

"Only another sixpence," said Tom a little huskily.

"Hand it over, then, and look sharp about it, 'fore it's the worse for
yer."

He caught hold of Tom's jacket as he spoke, and gave it a shake, making
his dog sidle up and growl, "Hear that? You give me more of yer sarce,
and I'll set the dorg at you, and see how yer like that. Now, then,
where's that sixpence?"

"I'll give it to you if you'll leave go," said Tom quietly. "Look here,
Pete, I don't want to quarrel with you."

"That yer don't. I should like to see you. Give it here."

"I want to be friends with you, and try to do something for you."

"Yes, I knows you do. You've got to bring me a shillin' every week, or
else I'll give it yer, so as you'd wish yer'd never been born. I'll
larn yer. Give me that sixpence."

"Leave go first."

"Give's that sixpence, d'yer hear?" cried Pete, clapping his other hand
on Tom, and shaking him.

"Don't do that," cried Tom; "it makes me feel queer."

Pete yelled with laughter.

"Course it does; but that arn't nothing. Hand over that there sixpence,
or--"

He gave a savage shake, which made Tom turn deadly pale, and shake
himself free.

"What!" roared Pete. "Oh, yer would, would yer? Lay hold on him.
Ciss! have him there!"

The dog, which had been snuffling and growling about, needed no further
urging, but sprang at Tom, who received his charge with a tremendous
kick, which caught the cur under the jaw, knocking it over, and sending
it in amongst the furze bu