rang, he interposed between the two,
head back and eyes flashing. His small person received the full shock
of the charge. He staggered, but recovered, and in an imperative voice
ordered the dog to heel.

Then he turned on David, seized the stake from his hand, and began
furiously belaboring the boy.

"I'll teach ye to strike--a puir--dumb--harmless--creetur,
ye--cruel--cruel---lad!" he cried. "Hoo daur ye strike--ma----Wullie?
yer--father's----Wullie? Adam--M 'Adam's--Red Wull?" He was panting from
his exertions, and his eyes were blazing. "I pit up as best I can wi'
all manner o' disrespect to masel'; but when it comes to takin' ma puir
Wullie, I canna thole it. Ha' ye no heart?" he asked, unconscious of the
irony of the question.

"As much as some, I reck'n," David muttered.

"Eh, what's that? What d'ye say?"

"Ye may thrash me till ye're blind; and it's nob'but yer duty; but if
only one daurs so much as to look at yer Wullie ye're mad," the boy
answered bitterly. And with that he turned away defiantly and openly in
the direction of Kenmuir.

M'Adam made a step forward, and then stopped.

"I'll see ye agin, ma lad, this evenin'," he cried with cruel
significance.

"I doot but yo'll be too drunk to see owt--except, 'appen, your bottle,"
the boy shouted back; and swaggered down the hill.

* * * * *

At Kenmuir that night the marked and particular kindness of Elizabeth
Moore was too much for the overstrung lad. Overcome by the contrast of
her sweet motherliness, he burst into a storm of invective against his
father, his home, his life--everything.

"Don't 'ee, Davie, don't 'ee, dearie!" cried Mrs. Moore, much
distressed. And taking him to her she talked to the great, sobbing boy
as though he were a child. At length he lifted his face and looked up;
and, seeing the white, wan countenance of his dear comforter, was struck
with tender remorse that he had given way and pained her, who looked so
frail and thin herself.

He mastered himself with an effort; and, for the rest of the evening,
was his usual cheery self. He teased Maggie into tears; chaffed stolid
little Andrew; and bantered Sam'l Todd until that generally impassive
man threatened to bash his snout for him.

Yet it was with a great swallowing at his throat that, later, he turned
down the slope for home.

James Moore and Parson Leggy accompanied him to the bridge over the
Wastrel, and stood a while watching as he dis