Gordon Keith | Page 7

broke after him with shouts of triumph. As he reached the stone-pile he
turned and made a stand, which brought them to a momentary stop. Just
then a shout arose below him. Gordon turned to see rushing up the hill
toward him Norman Wentworth. He was picking up stones as he ran.
Gordon heard him call out something, but he did not wait for his words.
Here was his arch-enemy, his conqueror, and here, at least, he was his
equal. Without wasting further time with those above him, Gordon
sprang toward his new assailant, and steadying himself, hurled his
heaviest stone. Fortunately, Norman Wentworth had been reared in the
country and knew how to dodge as well as to throw a stone, or his days
might have ended then and there.
"Hold on! don't throw!" he shouted "I am coming to help you," and,
without waiting, he sent a stone far over Gordon's head at the party on
the height above. Gordon, who was poising himself for another shot,
paused amazed in the midst of his aim, open-mouthed and wide-eyed.
"Come on," cried Norman. "You and I together can lick them. I know
the way, and we will get above them." So saying, he dashed down a
side alley, Gordon close at his heels, and, by making a turn, they came
out a few minutes later on the hill above their enemies, who were
rejoicing in their easy victory, and, catching them unprepared, routed
them and scattered them in an instant.

Ferdy Wickersham, finding himself defeated, promptly surrendered and
offered to enlist on their side. Norman, however, had no idea of letting
him off so easy.
"I am going to take you prisoner, but not until I have given you a good
kicking. You know better than to take sides against an American."
"He is a rebel," said Ferdy.
"He is an American," said Norman. And he forthwith proceeded to
make good his word, and to do it in such honest style that Ferdy, after
first taking it as a joke, got angry and ran away howling.
Gordon was doubtful as to the wisdom of this severity.
"He will tell," he said.
"Let him," said Norman, contemptuously. "He knows what he will get
if he does. I was at school with him last year, and I am going to school
with him again. I will teach him to fight with any one else against an
American!"
This episode made the two boys closer allies than they would have
been in a year of peace.
General Keith, finding his mission fruitless, asked leave to return home
immediately, so that Gordon saw little more of his former foe and new
ally.
A few days before their departure, Gordon, passing along a road, came
on a group of three persons, two children and a French governess with
much-frizzled hair, very black eyes, and a small waist. One of the
children was a very little girl, richly dressed in a white frock with a
blue sash that almost covered it, with big brown eyes and yellow
ringlets; the other child was a ragged girl several years older, with
tangled hair, gray eyes, and the ruddy, chubby cheeks so often seen in
children of her class. The governess was in a state of great excitement,
and was talking French so fast that it was a wonder any tongue could

utter the words. The little girl of the fine frock and brown eyes was
clutching to her bosom with a defiant air a large doll which the
governess was trying to get from her, while the other child stood by,
looking first toward one of them and then toward the other, with an
expression divided between timidity and eagerness. A big picture of a
ballet-dancer with a gay frock and red shoes in a flaring advertisement
on a sign-board had something to do with the trouble. Now the girl
drew nearer to the other child and danced a few steps, holding out her
hand; now she cast a look over her shoulder down the hill, as if to see
that her retreat were not cut off.
"Mais, c'est à moi--it's my doll. I will have it," insisted the little girl,
backing away and holding it firmly; at which the governess began
again almost tearing her hair in her desperation, though she ended by
giving it a pat to see that it was all right.
The approach of Gordon drew her attention to him.
"Oh," she exclaimed in desperation, "c'est épouvantable--it ees
terr-e-ble! Dese young ladie weel give de doll to dat meeseerable
creature!"
"She is not a 'meeseerable creature'!" insisted the little girl, mocking
her, her brown eyes flashing. "She danced for me, and I will give it to
her--I like her."
"Oh, ciel! What shall I do!