hill
toward her scrambled Ruloff; basket on shoulder; yelling abuse better
fitted for the ears of a balky mule than for those of a hurt child.

"Get up!" he bawled. "Get up, you worthless little cow! If you've
spoiled any of those peaches or broke my basket, I'll cut the flesh off
your bones."

Sonya redoubled her wailing. For, she recognized a bumpy substance
beneath her as the crushed basket. And these baskets belonged to
Ruloff; not to the Place.

For the accidental breaking of far less worthwhile things, at home, she
and her brothers and sisters had often been thrashed most unmercifully:
Her lamentations soared to high heaven. And her father's running feet
sounded like the tramp of Doom.

There is perhaps no other terror so awful as that of an ill treated
child at the approach of punishment. A man or woman, menaced by danger
from law or from private foe, can either fight it out or run away from
it. But there is no hiding place for a child from a brute parent. The
punishment is as inevitable and as fearsome as from the hand of God.

No; there is no other terror so awful. And, one likes to think, there
is no other punishment in the next world so severe as that meted out to
the torturers of little children. For this hope's basis there is the
solemn warning voiced by the All-pitying Friend of children;--a threat
which, apparently, was unfamiliar to Ruloff.

Down upon the weepingly prostrate Sonya bore the man. As he came toward
her, he ripped off the leathern belt he wore. And he brandished it by
the hole-punch end; the brass buckle singing ominously about his head.
Then, out from the house and across the wide veranda flashed a giant
tawny shape.

With the fierce speed of his youngest days, Lad cleared the porch and
reached the crying child. In the same instant he beheld the advancing
Ruloff; and the wise old brain read the situation at a glance.

Stopping only to lick the tear-streaked little face, Lad bounded in
front of Sonya and faced the father. The collie's feeble old body was
tense; his eyes blazed with indignant fury. His hackles bristled. The
yellowed and useless teeth glinted from beneath back-writhed lips. For
all his age, Lad was a terrible and terrifying figure as he stood guard
over the helpless waif.

Ruloff hesitated an instant, taken aback by the apparition. Sonya
ceased shrieking. Lad was here to protect her. Over her frightened soul
came that former queer sense of safety. She got up, tremb