ering over the brink, delighted beyond measure at the chance to
once more find himself on the outside of that miserable hole.
He had hardly half raised himself to his knees, when he felt a warm
little hand clasp his, while the voice of Billy sounded in his ears.
"Oh! ain't I glad I was along with brother Buck right now, Fred," the
boy cried; "I'm afraid he'd a left you there if he'd been alone. But
then, you see, Buck never knowed what a good friend you'd been to me
that time. And it was mighty kind of you never to peach on me. But I
guess you'n Buck ain't a-goin' to be fightin' each other after this. You
had ought to be friends right along."
Fred looked at the bully. He even half thrust out a hand, as though to
signify that he was ready to bridge the chasm that had always existed
between them, if the other would come the rest of the way to meet him.
But Buck obstinately kept his hand down at his side. He was not going to
forget all his troubles of the past, many of which he believed he could
lay at the door of the boy who had refused to knuckle down to him, as
most of the Riverport lads had done in the past.
But Fred was not caring in the least. Things had worked almost like a
miracle in his favor. That these two, perhaps heading across lots for
the humble home of Arnold Masterson, to hide from the wrath of the
Squire, should happen within earshot of his cries for help, was in the
nature of a chance in a thousand.
"You won't shake hands, Buck, and be friends, then?" Fred asked.
"What, me?" exclaimed the other, once more showing signs of anger, and
drawing Billy away from Fred as if the sight of them close together was
unpleasant to him; "not in a thousand years. That would mean I'd have to
knuckle down, and crawl before the mighty Fred Fenton, like some of the
other ninnies do. You go your way, and I'll go mine. We've always been
enemies, and that's what we'll be to the end of the chapter."
The old vindictive part in Buck's nature had apparently still a firm
grip on him. Fred no longer offered his hand. If the other chose to call
it square, he must be satisfied, and accept things as they came.
"All the same," he said, positively; "I'm obliged to you, Buck, for
helping me out. You've saved me from a bad time. And I'm going to tell
about it too, whether you want me to or not. Some of the good people in
Riverport will believe they've been wrong when they thought you wouldn't
lift a hand to do a single dec
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