be sorry."

"Well, he shan't get in here to-night," returned Christopher
soothingly. I'll keep him out with a shotgun, bless him, if he
shows his face. Come, now, sit up and eat a bit, or there won't
be any fight left in us."

Will took the food obediently, but before it touched his lips the
hand in which he held it dropped limply to the straw.

"I can't eat," he complained, with a gesture of disgust. "I'm too
sick--I've been sick for days. It was all grandpa's doing, too.
When I heard he was coming I went out and got soaking wet, and
then slept in my clothes all night. I knew he'd never make a fuss
if I could only get ill enough, but the next morning I felt all
right, so I came away."

Kneeling upon the floor, Christopher held the glass to his lips,
gently forcing him to drink a few swallows. Then dipping his
handkerchief in the cattle trough outside, he bathed the boy's
face and hands, and, loosening his clothes, made him as
comfortable as he could. "This won't do, you know," he urged
presently, alarmed by Will's difficult breathing. "You are in for
a jolly little spell, and I must get you home. Your grandfather
will never bother you while you're sick."

At the words the boy clung to him deliriously, breaking into
frightened whimpers such as a child makes in the dark. "I won't
go back! I won't go back!" he repeated wildly; "he'll never
believe I'm ill, and I won't go back!"