But at this, and the same moment, the Cheap Jack seized Jan furiously by the throat, and Rufus sprang upon the hunchback. The hunchback was in the greater danger, from which only his wife’s presence of mind saved him. She shrieked to him to let Jan go, that he might call off the dog, which the vindictive little Cheap Jack was loath to do. And when Jan had got Rufus off, and was holding him by the collar, the hunchback seized a hatchet with which he had been cutting stakes, and rushed upon the dog. Jan put himself between them, crying incoherently, “Let him alone! He’s not mine—he won’t hurt you—I’ll send him home—I’ll let un loose if ye don’t;” and Sal held back her husband, and said, “If you’ll behave civil, Jan, my dear, and as you should do to your poor mother, you may send the dog home. And well for him too, for John’s a man that’s not very particular what he does to them that puts him out in a place like this where there’s no one to tell tales. He’d chop him limb from limb, as soon as not.” Jan shuddered. There was no choice but to save Rufus. He clung round the curly brown neck in one agonized embrace, and then steadied his voice for an authoritative, “Home, Rufus!” as he let him go. Rufus hesitated, and looked dangerously at the hunchback, who lifted the hatchet. Jan shouted angrily, “Home, Rufus!” and Rufus obeyed. Twenty times, as his familiar figure, with the plumy tail curled sideways, lessened along the road, was Jan tempted to call him back to his destruction; but he did not. Only when the brown speck was fairly lost to sight, his utter friendlessness overwhelmed him, and falling on his knees he besought the woman with tears to let him go,—at least to tell Master Lake all about it. The hunchback began to reply with angry oaths, but Sal made signs to him to be silent, and said, “It comes very hard to me, Jan, to be treated this way by my only son, but, if you’ll be a good boy, I’m willing to oblige you, and we’ll drive round by the mill to let you see your friends, though it’s out of the way too.” Jan was profuse of thanks, and by the woman’s desire he sat down to share their breakfast. The hunchback examined his sketch-book, and, as he laid it down again, he asked, “Did you ever make picters on stone, eh?” “Before I could get paper, I did, sir,” said Jan. “But could you now? Could you make ’em on a flat stone, like a paving-stone?” “If I’d any thing to draw with, I could,” said Jan. “I could draw on any thing, if I had something in my hand to draw with.” The Cheap Jack’s face became brighter, and in a mollified tone he said to his wife, “He’s a prime card for such a young un. It’s a rum thing, too! A man I knowed was grand at screeving, but he said himself he was nowheres on paper. He made fifteen to eighteen shillin’ a week on a average,” the hunchback continued. “I’ve knowed him take two pound.” “Did you ever draw fish, my dear?” he inquired.