"Now, look out," she said, brandishing the whip in a menacing
way. "I'll git pay for that bunnit in one way, ef I don't in
another."

Pomp maintained his position on the other side of the wall. He
waited till the old lady was fairly over, and then commenced
running. The old lady pursued with vindictive animosity, cracking
the whip in a suggestive manner. Pomp doubled and turned in a
most provoking way. Finally he had recourse to a piece of
strategy. He had flung himself, doubled up in a ball, at the old
lady's feet, and she, unable to check her speed, fell over him,
clutching at the ground with her outstretched hands, from which
the whip had fallen.

"Hi, hi!" shrieked Pomp, with a yell of inconceivable delight, as
he watched the signal downfall of his adversary. Springing
quickly to his feet, he ran swiftly away.

"Good for you, you old debble!" he cried from a safe distance.

Henry Morton, though he found it difficult to restrain his
laughter, turned to Ajax and said, "I think it's time we
interfered. If you'll overtake the little black boy and give him
a shaking up, just to keep him out of mischief hereafter, I'll go
and help the old lady."

Ajax started on his errand. Pomp, now really alarmed, strove to
escape from this more formidable adversary, but in vain. He was
destined to receive a summary castigation.