hould hardly be able to lift my arm.

On and on, more and more blindly, feeling moment by moment as if my
aching legs would give way beneath me. I gazed wildly at my pursuers to
ask for a little mercy, but unfortunately for me they, excited and hot
with their chase, were as cruel as boys can be, and men too at such a
time.

There was nothing for it but to rush on at a pace that was fast
degenerating into a staggering trot, and in imagination, as the boys
pushed me and buffeted me with their caps, I saw myself tripped up,
thrown down, kicked, and rolled in the dust, and so much exhausted that
I could not help myself.

One chance gave me a little more energy. It must be nearly time for the
bells to ring, and then they would be bound to give up the pursuit; but
as I struggled I caught sight of a clock, and saw that it wanted a
quarter of an hour yet.

There were some men lounging against a wall, and I cried out to them,
but they hardly turned their heads, and as I was hurried and driven by I
saw that they only laughed as if this were excellent sport.

Next we passed a couple of well-dressed ladies, but they fled into a
gateway to avoid my pursuers, and the next minute I was hustled round a
corner, the centre of the whooping, laughing crowd, and, to my horror, I
found that we were in a narrow path with a row of stone cottages on one
side, the wall of a dam like our own, and only a few inches above the
water on the other.

I had felt dazed and confused before. Now I saw my danger clearly
enough and the object of the lads.

I was streaming with perspiration, and so weak that I could hardly
stand, but, to avoid being thrust in, and perhaps held under water and
ducked and buffeted over and over again, I felt that I must make a
plunge and try and swim to the other side.

But I dared not attempt it, even if I could have got clear; and blindly
struggling on I had about reached the middle of the dam path when a foot
was thrust out, and I fell.

Sobbing for my breath, beaten with fists, buffeted and blinded with the
blows of the young savages' caps, I struggled to my feet once more, but
only to be tripped and to fall again on the rough stony path.

I could do no more. I had no strength to move, but I could think
acutely, and feel, as I longed for the strength of Uncle Jack, and to
hold in my hand a good stout but limber cane.

Yes, I could feel plainly enough the young ruffians dragging at me, and
in their eagernes