"No," said the farmer sternly; "and if ever I hear of your doing
it, I'll horsewhip you till you beg for mercy. Now go home, and
carry your disgrace with you."

Mr. Maynard spoke contemptuously, but with decision, and pointed
up the road.

With smothered wrath John obeyed his order, because he saw that
it would not be safe to refuse.

"I'll come up with him yet," he muttered to himself, as he walked
quietly toward home. "If he doesn't rue this day, my name isn't
John Haynes."

John did not see fit to make known the circumstances of his
quarrel with Frank, feeling, justly, that neither his design nor
the result would reflect any credit upon himself. But his wrath
was none the less deep because he brooded over it in secret. He
would have renewed his attempt upon Pomp, but there was something
in Mr. Maynard's eye which assured him that his threat would be
carried out. Frank, solicitous for the little fellow's safety,
kept vigilant watch over him for some days, but no violence was
attempted. He hoped John had forgotten his threats.



CHAPTER XII. A LETTER FROM THE CAMP

The little family at the Frost farm looked forward with anxious
eagerness to the first letter from the absent father.