To Bill Benton he was a cruel tyrant. He delighted in making the life of his father’s bound boy intolerable, and succeeded only too well. He was stronger than Bill, and, backed by the authority of his father and mother, he dared do anything, while Bill knew that it was useless to resist. Still, gentle as he was, sometimes his spirit rose and made a feeble resistance. “Where are you going, Bill?” asked Andrew as the bound boy started off after breakfast. “I am going to hoe potatoes, Andrew.” “No, you’re not; I want you to go and dig some worms for bait. I am going a-fishing.” “But your father told me to go to the field at once.” “I can’t help that. He didn’t know I wanted you.” “He will scold me if I don’t go to work.” “That is my business. I tell you to go and dig some worms.” Poor Bill! He knew very well that if Andrew got him into a scrape, he would not help him out, but leave his father to suppose that Bill disobeyed of his own accord--if necessary, stoutly asserting it, for Andrew was by no means a boy of truth. “I would rather not go, Andrew,” said Bill uneasily. “Then take that!” And Andrew brutally struck him with a whip he had in his hand. The bound boy flushed at this indignity. Gentle as he was, he resented a blow. “Don’t you do that again, Andrew!” he said. “I won’t stand it!” “You won’t stand it?” repeated Andrew tauntingly. “What will you do about it, I’d like to know?” “You have no right to hit me, and I won’t submit to it,” said Bill with a spirit which quite astonished the young tyrant. He laughed scornfully and repeated the blow, but with more emphasis. Even the most gentle and long-suffering turn sometimes, and this was the case now. The bound boy lifted the hoe and with the handle struck Andrew so forcibly that he dropped upon the ground, bellowing like a calf. Like most bullies he was cowardly, and the unexpected resistance and the pain of the blow quite overcame his fortitude, and he cried like a baby. It must be confessed that the bound boy was frightened by what he had done. Too well he knew that he would suffer for his temerity. Besides, his compassion was aroused for Andrew, whom he thought to be worse hurt than he was. He threw down the hoe and kneeled by the prostrate boy. “Oh, Andrew, I hope I didn’t hurt you!” he cried. “I ought not to have struck you.” “You’ll catch it when father comes home!” screamed Andrew furiously. “You almost killed me!” “Oh, Andrew, I’m so sorry. I hope you’ll forgive me.” By this time Mrs. Badger had come to the door, and Andrew, catching a glimpse of her, gave a yell as if in extreme anguish. His mother came flying out of the house. “What’s the matter, my darling?” she cried in alarm. “Bill knocked me down with a hoe, and I think I’m going to die!” answered Andrew with a fresh burst of anguish. Mrs. Badger was almost paralyzed with astonishment and wrath. She could hardly believe her ears. What! Her Andrew assaulted by a beggarly bound boy!