THE BANDY-LEGGED MAN 249

“Thou wilt na put a stopper on a jug!” cried Nick, his
heart so hot for Cicely that he quite forgot himself. “I’d
sing so well without a voice—it would butter thy bread
for thee! Loose my arm, thou rogue.”

“Not for a thousand golden crowns! I’m no tom-
noddy, to be gulled. And, hark ’e, be less glib with that
‘vogue’ of thine, or I Il baste thy back for thee.”

“Oh, don’t beat Nick!” gasped Cicely.

“Do na fret for me,” said Nick; “I be na feared of the
cowardly rogue!”

Crack! the man struck him across the face. Nick’s eyes
flashed hot asa fire-coal. He set his teeth, but he did not
flinch. “Do na thou strike me again, thou rogue!” said
he.

As he spoke, on a sudden his heart leaped up and his
fear was utterly gone. In its place was a something fierce
and strange—a bitter gladness, a joy that stung and
thrilled him like great music in the night. A tingling ran
from head to foot; the little hairs of his flesh stood up;
he trampled the stones as, he hurried on. In his breast
his heart was beating like a bell; his breath came hotly,
deep and slow; the whole world widened on his gaze. Oh,
what a thing is the heart of a boy! how quickly griat
things are done therein! One instant, put him to the touch
—the thing is done, and he is nevermore the same. Like
a keen, cold wind that blows through a window in the
night, life’s courage had breathed on Nick Attwood’s
heart; the man that slept in the heart of the boy awoke
and was aware. The old song roared in Nick’s ears: