Chapter XI. Punishing a Bully

by Horatio Alger

　　It was fortunate for Mrs. Frost that she was so soon called uponto think for others. It gave her less time to grieve over herhusband's absence, which was naturally a severe trial to her. Asfor Frank, though the harvest was gathered in, there were plentyof small jobs to occupy his attention. He divided with Jacob thecare of the cows, and was up betimes in the morning to do hisshare of the milking. Then the pigs and chickens must be fedevery 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 hoursat his own disposal, and this, in accordance with a previousdetermination, he resolved to devote to keeping up his studies.He did not expect to make the same progress that he would havedone if he had been able to continue at school, but it wassomething to feel that he was not remaining stationary.Frank resolved to say nothing to his classmates about his privatestudies. They would think he was falling far behind, and at somefuture time he would surprise them.Still, there were times when he felt the need of a teacher. Hewould occasionally encounter difficulties which he found himselfunable to surmount without assistance. At such times he thoughtof Mr Rathburn's kind offer. But his old teacher lived nearly amile distant, and he felt averse to troubling him, knowing thathis duties in school were arduous.Occasionally he met some of his schoolmates. As nearly all ofthem were friendly and well-disposed to him, this gave himpleasure, and brought back sometimes the wish that he was as freeas they. But this wish was almost instantly checked by thethought that he had made a sacrifice for his country's sake.A few days after the incident narrated in the last chapter, Frankwas out in the woods not far from Chloe's cottage, collectingbrushwood, to be afterward carried home, when his attention wascalled to an altercation, one of the parties in which he readilyrecognized as little Pomp. To explain how it came about, we shallhave to go back a little.Pomp was returning from Mrs. Frost's, swinging a tin kettlecontaining provisions for his mother and himself, when all atonce he met John Haynes, who was coming from the oppositedirection.Now, John was something of a bully, and liked to exerciseauthority over the boys who were small enough to render theattempt a safe one. On the present occasion he felt in ahectoring mood."I'll have some fun out of the little nigger," he said tohimself, as he espied Pomp.Pomp approached, swinging his pail as before, and whistling aplantation melody."What have you got there, Pomp?" asked John."I'se got a pail," said Pomp independently. "Don't yer know apail when you see him?""I know an impudent little nigger when I see him," retorted John,not overpleased with the answer. "Come here directly, and let mesee 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 hereor not? I'm going to count three, and I'll give you that time todecide. One--two--three!"Pomp apparently had no intention of complying with John'srequest. He had halted about three rods from him, and stoodswinging 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 himadroitly, and got on the other side of a tree.Opposition only stimulated John to new efforts. He had becomeexcited in the pursuit, and had made up his mind to capture Pomp,who dodged in and out among the trees with such quickness anddexterity that John was foiled for a considerable time. The ardorof his pursuit and its unexpected difficulty excited his anger.He lost sight of the fact that Pomp was under no obligation tocomply with his demand. But this is generally the way withtyrants, who are seldom careful to keep within the bounds ofjustice and reason."Just let me catch you, you little rascal, and I will give youthe worst licking you ever had," John exclaimed, with passion."Wait till you catch me," returned Pomp, slipping, eel-like, fromhis grasp.But Pomp, in dodging, had now come to an open space, where he wasat a disadvantage. John was close upon him, when suddenly hestood stock-still, bending his back so as to obtain a firmfooting. The consequence was that his too ardent pursuer tumbledover him, and stretched his length upon the ground.Unfortunately for Pomp, John grasped his leg in falling, and heldit by so firm a grip that he was unable to get free. In themoment of his downfall John attained his object."Now I've got you," he said, white with passion, "and I'm goingto teach you a lesson."Clinging to Pomp with one hand, he drew a stout string from hispocket with the other, and secured the hands of the littlecontraband, notwithstanding his efforts to escape."Le' me go, you debble," he said, using a word which had grownfamiliar to him on the plantation.There was a cruel light in John's eyes which augured little goodto poor Pomp. Suddenly, as if a new idea had struck him, heloosened the cord, and taking the boy carried him, in spite ofhis kicking and screaming, to a small tree, around which heclasped 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 whatthey meant. More than once he had seen those of his own colorwhipped on the plantation. Unconsciously, he glided into thelanguage which he would have used there."Don't whip me, Massa John," he whimpered in terror. "For the lubof Heaven, lef me be. I ain't done noffin' to you.""You'd better have thought of that before," said John, his eyesblazing anew with vengeful light. "If I whip you, you littleblack rascal, it's only because you richly deserve it.""I'll nebber do so again," pleaded Pomp, rolling his eyes interror. Though what it was he promised not to do the poor littlefellow would have found it hard to tell.It would have been as easy to soften the heart of a nethermillstone as that of John Haynes.By the time he had completed his preparations, and whirled hisstick in the air preparatory to bringing it down with full forceon Pomp's back, rapid steps were heard, and a voice asked, "Whatare you doing there, John Haynes?"John looked round, and saw standing near him Frank Frost, whoseattention had been excited by what he had heard of Pomp's cries."Save me, save me, Mass' Frank," pleaded poor little Pomp."What has he tied you up there for, Pomp?""It's none of your business, Frank Frost," said Johnpassionately."I think it's some of my business," said Frank coolly, "when Ifind you playing the part of a Southern overseer. You are not inRichmond, John Haynes, and you'll get into trouble if youundertake to act as if you were.""If you say much more, I'll flog you too!" screamed John, besidehimself with excitement and rage.Frank had not a particle of cowardice in his composition. He wasnot fond of fighting, but he felt that circumstances made itnecessary for him to do so now. He did not easily lose histemper, and this at present gave him the advantage over John."You are too excited to know what you are talking about," he saidcoolly. "Pomp, why has he tied you up?"Pomp explained that John had tried to get his pail from him. Heclosed by imploring "Mass' Frank" to prevent John from whippinghim."He shall not whip you, Pomp," said Frank quietly. As he spoke hestepped to the tree and faced John intrepidly.John, in a moment of less passion, would not have ventured toattack a boy so near his own size. Like all bullies, he wasessentially a coward, but now his rage got the better of hisprudence."I'll flog you both!" he exclaimed hoarsely, and sprang forwardwith upraised stick.Frank was about half a head shorter than John, and was more thana year younger, but he was stout and compactly built; besides, hewas cool and collected, and this is always an advantage.Before John realized what had happened, his stick had flown fromhis hand, and he was forcibly pushed back, so that he narrowlyescaped falling to the ground."Gib it to him, Mass' Frank!" shouted little Pomp. "Gib it tohim!"This increased John's exasperation. By this time he was almostfoaming at the mouth."I'll kill you, Frank Frost," he exclaimed, this time rushing athim without a stick.Frank had been in the habit of wrestling for sport with the boysof his own size. In this way he had acquired a certain amount ofdexterity in "tripping up." John, on the contrary, wasunpractised. His quick temper was so easily roused that otherboys had declined engaging in friendly contests with him, knowingthat in most cases they would degenerate into a fight.John rushed forward, and attempted to throw Frank by the strengthof his arms alone. Frank eluded his grasp, and, getting one ofhis legs around John's, with a quick movement tripped him up. Hefell heavily upon his back."This is all foolish, John," said Frank, bending over his fallenfoe. "What are you fighting for? The privilege of savagelywhipping a poor little fellow less than half your age?""I care more about whipping you, a cursed sight!" said John,taking advantage of Frank's withdrawing his pressure to spring tohis feet. "You first, and him afterward!"Again he threw himself upon Frank; but again coolness andpractice prevailed against blind fury and untaught strength, andagain he lay prostrate.By this time Pomp had freed himself from the string that fetteredhis wrists, and danced in glee round John Haynes, in whosediscomfiture he felt great delight."You'd better pick up your pail and run home," said Frank. He wasgenerously desirous of saving John from further humiliation."Will you go away quietly if I will let you up, John?" he asked."No, d----you!" returned John, writhing, his face almost lividwith passion."I am sorry," said Frank, "for in that case I must continue tohold you down.""What is the trouble, boys?" came from an unexpected quarter.It was Mr. Maynard, who, chancing to pass along the road, hadbeen attracted by the noise of the struggle.Frank explained in a few words."Let him up, Frank," said the old man. "I'll see that he does nofurther harm."John rose to his feet, and looked scowlingly from one to theother, as if undecided whether he had not better attack both."You've disgraced yourself, John Haynes," said the old farmerscornfully. "So you would turn negro-whipper, would you? Yourtalents are misapplied here at the North. Brutality isn'trespectable here, my lad. You'd better find your way within therebel lines, and then perhaps you can gratify your propensity forwhipping the helpless.""Some day I'll be revenged on you for this," said John, turningwrathfully upon Frank. "Perhaps you think I don't mean it, butthe day will come when you'll remember what I say.""I wish you no harm, John," said Frank composedly, "but I sha'n'tstand by and see you beat a boy like Pomp.""No," said the farmer sternly; "and if ever I hear of your doingit, I'll horsewhip you till you beg for mercy. Now go home, andcarry your disgrace with you."Mr. Maynard spoke contemptuously, but with decision, and pointedup the road.With smothered wrath John obeyed his order, because he saw thatit would not be safe to refuse."I'll come up with him yet," he muttered to himself, as he walkedquietly toward home. "If he doesn't rue this day, my name isn'tJohn Haynes."John did not see fit to make known the circumstances of hisquarrel with Frank, feeling, justly, that neither his design northe result would reflect any credit upon himself. But his wrathwas none the less deep because he brooded over it in secret. Hewould have renewed his attempt upon Pomp, but there was somethingin Mr. Maynard's eye which assured him that his threat would becarried out. Frank, solicitous for the little fellow's safety,kept vigilant watch over him for some days, but no violence wasattempted. He hoped John had forgotten his threats.