He drew out junks of blue clay, wads of twine, a piece of chalk, a fish-hook, and various other articles more or less wound up in a wad; but no medal. "Guess there's a hole in my pocket, and the medal fell through." And without stopping to examine the pocket, he ran back all the way to the brook. Nowhere to be found. Not in the grass on either side of the road; not on the bank. Then he remembered to look at his pockets; turned them all three inside out four times. No hole there. "Well, I never!--Look here, you Oze Wiggins; did you pick up anything in the grass?" "Noffin' but a toadstool," replied little Ozem, innocently; and Willy wondered if he wasn't a half-fool to make such an answer as that. "Where can that medal be?" said he, with a dry sob. He did not once suspect that Gideon Noonin had taken it. "I'll go home and tell my mother. O, dear! O, dear!" He was still at the tender age when little boys believe their mammas can help them out of any kind of trouble. True, he had been naughty and disobedient; but if he said he was sorry, wouldn't her arms open to take him in? He was sorry now,--no doubt of that,--and was running home with all speed, when the sight of his father in the distance reminded him of his errand, and he rushed back to the store for the codfish and mackerel. "What makes your hair so wet, bubby?" asked Daddy Wiggins, rolling the fish in brown paper. "Haven't been in swimming--have you?" "Don' know," stammered Willy, darting out of the store. If his hair was wet it wouldn't do to go home till it was dry; for his father would find out that he had been in the brook, and the next thing in order would be a whipping. It was hard enough to lose the medal; Willy thought a whipping would be more than he could bear, for it was always given with a horsewhip out in the barn; and the unlucky boy could never help envying the cows, as they looked on, chewing their cuds with such an air of content and unconcern. Cows never were punished, nor sheep either. Good times they had--that's a fact. _Sheep_ wouldn't mind a real heavy horse-whipping, they were done up so in wool; but when a little boy had to take off his jacket, why, there wasn't much over his skin to keep off the smart. Ugh! how it did hurt! There was another advantage in being a sheep, or a cow, or a hen; animals of that sort never lost anything--didn't have medals to lose. "And this wasn't mine," groaned Willy. "What'll the mistress do to me? Don' know; blister both hands, I s'pose!" Willy had intended to play ball with the little boys, but it was not to be thought of now. Putting his fish behind a tree, he ran to the brook again and poked with a stick as far as he could reach; then waded in up to his knees, for the medal might have rolled out of his pocket. "No, it couldn't; for my breeches were tucked in up there between two rocks." Suddenly he recollected Gideon's going back to the bank.