It is somewhat doubtful whether Pomp heard this last remark. He espied a pig walking by the side of the road, and was seized with a desire to run over it. Giving the reins a sudden twitch, he brought the carriage round so that it was very near upsetting in a gully.

Frank s.n.a.t.c.hed the reins in time to prevent this catastrophe.

"What did you do that for, Pomp?" he said quickly.

"Wanted to scare de pig," exclaimed Pomp, laughing. "Wanted to hear him squeal."

"And so you nearly tipped us over."

"Didn't mean to do dat, Ma.s.s' Frank. 'Pears like I didn't think."

Mrs. Frost was too much alarmed by this narrow escape to consent to Pomp's driving again, and for the moment felt as if she should like to usurp his mother's privilege of spanking him. But the little imp looked so unconscious of having done anything wrong that her vexation soon pa.s.sed away.

In half an hour Pomp was on his way back, laden with a basketful of provisions for his sick mother and himself.

CHAPTER XI. PUNISHING A BULLY

It was fortunate for Mrs. Frost that she was so soon called upon to think for others. It gave her less time to grieve over her husband's absence, which was naturally a severe trial to her. As for Frank, though the harvest was gathered in, there were plenty of small jobs to occupy his attention. He divided with Jacob the care of the cows, and was up betimes in the morning to do his share of the milking. Then the pigs and chickens must be fed every day, and this Frank took entirely into his own charge. Wood, also, must be prepared for the daily wants of the house, and this labor he shared with Jacob.

In the afternoon, however, Frank usually had two or three hours at his own disposal, and this, in accordance with a previous determination, he resolved to devote to keeping up his studies. He did not expect to make the same progress that he would have done if he had been able to continue at school, but it was something to feel that he was not remaining stationary.

Frank resolved to say nothing to his cla.s.smates about his private studies. They would think he was falling far behind, and at some future time he would surprise them.

Still, there were times when he felt the need of a teacher. He would occasionally encounter difficulties which he found himself unable to surmount without a.s.sistance. At such times he thought of Mr Rathburn's kind offer. But his old teacher lived nearly a mile distant, and he felt averse to troubling him, knowing that his duties in school were arduous.

Occasionally he met some of his schoolmates. As nearly all of them were friendly and well-disposed to him, this gave him pleasure, and brought back sometimes the wish that he was as free as they. But this wish was almost instantly checked by the thought that he had made a sacrifice for his country's sake.

A few days after the incident narrated in the last chapter, Frank was out in the woods not far from Chloe's cottage, collecting brushwood, to be afterward carried home, when his attention was called to an altercation, one of the parties in which he readily recognized as little Pomp. To explain how it came about, we shall have to go back a little.

Pomp was returning from Mrs. Frost's, swinging a tin kettle containing provisions for his mother and himself, when all at once he met John Haynes, who was coming from the opposite direction.

Now, John was something of a bully, and liked to exercise authority over the boys who were small enough to render the attempt a safe one. On the present occasion he felt in a hectoring mood.

"I'll have some fun out of the little n.i.g.g.e.r," he said to himself, as he espied Pomp.

Pomp approached, swinging his pail as before, and whistling a plantation melody.

"What have you got there, Pomp?" asked John.

"I'se got a pail," said Pomp independently. "Don't yer know a pail when you see him?"

"I know an impudent little n.i.g.g.e.r when I see him," retorted John, not overpleased with the answer. "Come here directly, and let me see what you've got in your pail."

"I ain't got noffin for you," said Pomp defiantly.

"We'll see about that," said John. "Now, do you mean to come here or not? I'm going to count three, and I'll give you that time to decide.

One--two--three!"

Pomp apparently had no intention of complying with John's request.

He had halted about three rods from him, and stood swinging his pail, meanwhile watching John warily.

"I see you want me to come after you," said John angrily.

He ran toward Pomp, but the little contraband dodged him adroitly, and got on the other side of a tree.

Opposition only stimulated John to new efforts. He had become excited in the pursuit, and had made up his mind to capture Pomp, who dodged in and out among the trees with such quickness and dexterity that John was foiled for a considerable time. The ardor of his pursuit and its unexpected difficulty excited his anger. He lost sight of the fact that Pomp was under no obligation to comply with his demand. But this is generally the way with tyrants, who are seldom careful to keep within the bounds of justice and reason.

"Just let me catch you, you little rascal, and I will give you the worst licking you ever had," John exclaimed, with pa.s.sion.

"Wait till you catch me," returned Pomp, slipping, eel-like, from his grasp.

But Pomp, in dodging, had now come to an open s.p.a.ce, where he was at a disadvantage. John was close upon him, when suddenly he stood stock-still, bending his back so as to obtain a firm footing. The consequence was that his too ardent pursuer tumbled over him, and stretched his length upon the ground.

Unfortunately for Pomp, John grasped his leg in falling, and held it by so firm a grip that he was unable to get free. In the moment of his downfall John attained his object.

"Now I've got you," he said, white with pa.s.sion, "and I'm going to teach you a lesson."

Clinging to Pomp with one hand, he drew a stout string from his pocket with the other, and secured the hands of the little contraband, notwithstanding his efforts to escape.

"Le' me go, you debble," he said, using a word which had grown familiar to him on the plantation.

There was a cruel light in John's eyes which augured little good to poor Pomp. Suddenly, as if a new idea had struck him, he loosened the cord, and taking the boy carried him, in spite of his kicking and screaming, to a small tree, around which he clasped his hands, which he again confined with cords.

He then sought out a stout stick, and divested it of twigs.

Pomp watched his preparations with terror. Too well he knew what they meant. More than once he had seen those of his own color whipped on the plantation. Unconsciously, he glided into the language which he would have used there.

"Don't whip me, Ma.s.sa John," he whimpered in terror. "For the lub of Heaven, lef me be. I ain't done noffin' to you."

"You'd better have thought of that before," said John, his eyes blazing anew with vengeful light. "If I whip you, you little black rascal, it's only because you richly deserve it."

"I'll nebber do so again," pleaded Pomp, rolling his eyes in terror.

Though what it was he promised not to do the poor little fellow would have found it hard to tell.

It would have been as easy to soften the heart of a nether millstone as that of John Haynes.

By the time he had completed his preparations, and whirled his stick in the air preparatory to bringing it down with full force on Pomp's back, rapid steps were heard, and a voice asked, "What are you doing there, John Haynes?"

John looked round, and saw standing near him Frank Frost, whose attention had been excited by what he had heard of Pomp's cries.

"Save me, save me, Ma.s.s' Frank," pleaded poor little Pomp.

"What has he tied you up there for, Pomp?"

"It's none of your business, Frank Frost," said John pa.s.sionately.