shes, where it lay howling and yelping
dismally, till it gave a peculiar sharp cry, sprang out with something
sticking to its nose, and then dashed off with its tail between its legs
as hard as it could go, leaving a little viper wriggling back over the
short grass to get back to the shelter of the furze.

Pete Warboys looked perfectly astounded at Tom's act, and stood staring
for a few moments. Then, attributing it to horror and desperate fear,
he ran at his enemy again, and got a firm grip of his collar, to begin
see-sawing him to and fro.

"That's it, is it?" he cried; "yer'd kick my dorg, would yer? Just you
give me that other sixpence, or I'll break every bone in yer skin 'fore
yer know where you are."

"Let go!" said Tom huskily; and he struggled to get free.

"Oh no, yer don't. Yer arn't going to get away till yer've paid me that
there sixpence."

Tom's fit of philanthropy had nearly all evaporated, like so much mist
before the intense heat which Pete had set burning, and made all the
blood in his face and extremities seem to run to his heart, which pumped
away violently, causing his head to feel giddy, and his hands and feet
to tingle and jerk.

"Will you leave go?" he cried in a low, hoarse whisper.

"No, I sharn't, yer cowardly sneak," cried Pete triumphantly, for the
white face and trembling voice were delightful to him. He had his enemy
metaphorically upon his knees, and it was pure delight to him to have
Tom at his mercy. "Yer've bounced it over me long enough when yer'd got
any one to help yer, or you was at home; but I've got yer now, and I'm
going to pay yer, and teach yer, and let yer know what's what. Where's
that there sixpence yer owe me?"

"Will you let go?" cried Tom, more huskily than ever, but with his eyes
blazing.

"No," cried Pete, grinning, and giving his imaginary victim a tremendous
shake.

The last wreath of Tom's philanthropic mist had evaporated.

_Click--Clack_!

It was the only way in which he could use his fists from the manner in
which he was being held; so Tom struck sharply upwards, his blows taking
effect upon Pete's lower jaw, and jerking his head sharply, making him
loose his hold and stagger back, to go down in a sitting position
amongst the furze.

He did not stay there a moment, but rebounded as quickly as if he had
been bumped down violently upon a spring bed.

There the comparison ends, for Pete uttered a yell of agony and rage,
which made him rush