surmounted the wall, in time to see a boy of about his own age running
away across the fields as fast as the deep snow would allow.

"So it's you, Jonas!" he shouted wrathfully. "I thought it was some
sneaking fellow like you."

Jonas Webb, his step-brother, his freckled face showing a degree of
dismay, for he had not calculated on discovery, ran the faster, but
while fear winged his steps, anger proved the more effectual spur, and
Phil overtook him after a brief run, from the effects of which both boys
panted.

"What made you throw that snow-ball?" demanded Phil angrily, as he
seized Jonas by the collar and shook him.

"You let me alone!" said Jonas, struggling ineffectually in his grasp.

"Answer me! What made you throw that snowball?" demanded Phil, in a tone
that showed he did not intend to be trifled with.

"Because I chose to," answered Jonas, his spite getting the better of
his prudence. "Did it hurt you?" he continued, his eyes gleaming with
malice.

"I should think it might. It was about as hard as a cannon-ball,"
returned Phil grimly. "Is that all you've got to say about it?"

"I did it in fun," said Jonas, beginning to see that he had need to be
prudent.