hed the gate when Old Brownsmith shouted:

"Take the barrow."

Shock trotted back like a dog; and as I watched him, thinking what a
curious half-savage lad he was, and how much bigger and stronger than I
was, he came back with the light basket barrow, trundling it along.

We went in silence as far as my old home, where Mrs Beeton held up her
hands as she saw my companion, and drew back, holding the door open for
us to get the corded box which stood in the floor-clothed hall.

Shock put down the barrow; and then his mischief-loving disposition got
the better of his sulkiness, and stooping down he astonished me and made
Mrs Beeton shriek by taking a leap up the two steps, like a dog, and
going on all-fours to the box.

"Pray, pray, take him away, Master Dennison!" the poor woman cried in
real alarm; "and do, pray, mind yourself--the boy's mad!"

"Oh, no; he won't hurt you," I said, taking one end of the box. But
Shock growled, shook it free, lifted it from the floor, and before I
could stop him, bumped it down the steps on to the barrow with a bang,
laid it fairly across, and then seizing the handles went off at a trot.

"I can't stop," I said quickly; "I must go and look after him."

"Yes, but pray take care, my dear. He bites. He bit a boy once very
badly, and he isn't safe."

Not very pleasant news, but I could not stay to hear more, and, running
after the barrow, I caught up to it and laid my hand upon one side of
the box as if to keep it steady.

I did not speak for a minute, and Shock subsided into a walk; then,
turning to him and looking in his morose, ill-used face:

"I've never thanked you yet for getting me out of the river."

The box gave a bump and a bound, for the handles of the barrow were
raised very high and Shock began to run.

At the end of a minute I stopped him, and as soon as we were going on
steadily I made the same remark.

But up went the barrow and box again and off we trotted. When, after
stopping him for the second time, I made an attempt to get into
conversation and to thank him, Shock banged down the legs of the barrow,
looking as stolid and heavy as if he were perfectly deaf, threw open the
gate, and ran the barrow up to the house-door.

"Oh! here's your baggage, then!" said Old Brownsmith. "Bring it in,
Shock; set it on end there in the passage. We'll take it up after tea.
Come along."

Shock lifted in the box before I could help him; and then seizing the
barrow-hand