on with a couple of sounding smacks on the head.

"Come on, you fellows," said Jarnley. "Don't let him go, but we'll deal
with Cetchy first. Oh, yes, my black snowball, my woolly-pated beauty--
I told you I'd skin you alive, didn't I? I told you I'd rip the black
hide off you, and now I'm going to do it. Now then, spread-eagle him
over the steps of that stile. Oh, yes. We've been keeping these for
you many a long day, my noble snowball," producing a thick but supple
willow switch, and one of the others, of whom there were just half a
dozen, producing one likewise.

It was then or never. The victim, well aware of what a savage thrashing
would be inflicted upon him, should he fail, made one last effort.
Before the others had time to seize him he struck his heel down sharply
on to Jarnley's toes, crushing them into the ground, at the same time
sending his elbow back with all his force. It caught the bully fair in
the pit of the stomach, and with a howl, promptly strangled in a gasp,
Jarnley partially relaxed his hold. In a trice the Zulu boy had
wrenched himself free, and, deftly ducking between two of the others who
sprang at him, was off like a shot.

Jarnley was beside himself with rage.

"You asses!" he shouted gaspingly as he recovered his wind. "All this
time we've been looking out for him, and now, just as we've got him, you
let him get away."

"It strikes me it was you who let him get away," retorted Perkins.
"Well, we'll take it out of this little beast instead."

Poor Smithson minor howled for mercy, but he howled in vain. They
pulled him down over the stile step, the switches were uplifted and
ready when--

"Whack! Whack!" came a couple of stones. "Whack--whack--whack!" came
three more, flung hard too, and with a terrible precision. One struck
Perkins on the hand, causing him to dance and swear all his fingers were
broken. Another hit Jarnley on the shoulder, while two more found their
billet in violent contact with another of the bullies--and there, in a
gap in the hedge some little distance off, stood the one who had
escaped, grinning in mingled vindictiveness and glee. Other stones
followed, hurled with the same unerring precision. To proceed with
their congenial work under that terrible bombardment was impossible--and
so, leaving one in charge of Smithson, the gang started in pursuit of
the Zulu boy.

The latter chuckled, for he knew that not one of them could get any
nearer to him