took great bounding strides, throwing his head from side to side
as he ran. The boy knew the path. It led to a rickety fence--a cattle
guard--across the river. Jimmy's heart beat wildly, and the trees
danced by him on the sloping path. But he was not "the champeen
fence-walker of Willow Creek," late of "Pennington & Carpenter's
Circus & Menagerie, price ten pins," without having won his proud
place by prowess. He came to the water's edge with sure feet. He knew
that he could cross. He had crossed the creek there a score of times.
He jumped for the slanting boards with his bare feet, and his heart
was glad. The boy was sure that no man would dare to follow him, even
if the fence would hold a man's weight. He had scurried up the bank
before his pursuer had reached the side Jimmy had leaped from so
lightly. He scooted through the underbrush. Again and again did the
"champeen fence-walker" smile to himself as he slackened his pace
to dodge a volley of rocks, and again and again did James Sears--an
exemplary youth for the most part, who knew his Ten Commandments by
heart--look exultingly at his pullet. He gloried in his iniquity.
Lentulus returning to Capua with victorious legions was not so
proud. But there the evil spirit swooped low upon him--the spirit
of destruction that always follows pride. Jimmy tripped, and lunged
forward; the chicken, the hat, the bow and arrow, and the boy
all parted company. Then Jimmy felt a pain--a sharp pain that he
recognized too well. He feared to make sure of the extent of his
injury. Instinctive knowledge told him he had "stumped" his toe. This
knowledge also brought the sense of certainty that his day's pleasure
was spoiled. He knew that he would go hobbling along, the last brave
in the Indian file. The pain in his foot began to throb as he gathered
up his weapons. He walked for a few moments without looking at the
wound. He felt the oozing blood, and he bent his body and went along,
grunting at every step. Finally coming into a flood of sunlight on the
path, he sat on a log and slowly lifted up his foot, twisting his face
into an agonized knot. He peeked at his toe at first stealthily; then
little by little uncovering it with his nursing hand, he gazed fixedly
at the wound. The flesh on the end of the toe was hanging loosely by
the skin. It was a full minute before the boy could find courage
to press the hanging flesh back to its place. In the mean time the
chicken, which lay behind him