For a moment the two combatants lurched apart. Will was the first to
recover himself. A white rage surged up within him, and he felt his
veins prickle, his sinews tighten. A new access of nervous energy
seemed to flow into him, and he imagined his strength had been suddenly
doubled. The ruffian's hands struck out both together wildly.
Will's chance had come, and he grasped it. The bully reeled under a
blow between the eyes, and fell headlong.
For a moment he did not stir. Then he began to gather himself up.
"Have you had enough?" inquired Will.
"Yes, I've quit!" growled Baizley.
"You are a contemptible, cowardly brute," continued Will, "and it's
in jail you ought to be. Mind you, now, if I catch you, or hear of
you abusing a youngster again, it's in jail you'll certainly be!"
As Baizley slunk away, Mr. Hand came up with Toddles in his arms.
The little one was still shaking with sobs, and his tear-stained
face looked so white and pitiful that Will felt like going after
Baizley and giving him another thrashing.
"Poor little kid!" he said, compassionately, taking no notice whatever
of Mr. Hand.
But Mr. Hand positively refused to be ignored.
"God bless you, God bless you, William!" he exclaimed, with the ring
of sincere feeling in his voice. "You're a noble young man, a _noble_
young man. I can't thank you; words can't express what I--what I feel
toward you for this."
Here he kissed passionately the yellow head of Toddles as it lay on
his shoulder.
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