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Fox, John, 1863-1919

"The Trail of the Lonesome Pine"

Neither paid any attention to the school-
master, who pulled at Bob's coat unavailingly and with horror at
his ferocity. Bob turned his head, shook it as well as the thumb
in his mouth would let him, and went on gripping the throat under
him and pushing the head that belonged to it into the ground. The
mountain boy's tongue showed and his eyes bulged.
"'Nough!" he yelled. Bob rose then and told his story and the
school-master from New England gave them a short lecture on
gentleness and Christian charity and fixed on each the awful
penalty of "staying in" after school for an hour every day for a
week. Bob grinned:
"All right, professor--it was worth it," he said, but the mountain
lad shuffled silently away.
An hour later Hale saw the boy with a swollen lip, one eye black
and the other as merry as ever--but after that there was no more
trouble for June. Bob had made his promise good and gradually she
came into the games with her fellows there-after, while Bob stood
or sat aside, encouraging but taking no part--for was he not a
member of the Police Force? Indeed he was already known far and
wide as the Infant of the Guard, and always he carried a whistle
and usually, outside the school-house, a pistol bumped his hip,
while a Winchester stood in one corner of his room and a billy
dangled by his mantel-piece.


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