like a young fury. The horse acted badly ("Dodd's" horses always acted
badly), and he jerked smartly on the bridle rein to subdue him. It was
rare sport, and the lad fairly reveled in it, in his little heart
defying those who had forbidden him this pleasure, and glorying in his
triumph.

But "the way of sinners is as darkness, they know not at what they
stumble," and "Dodd" was destined to "take a header" forthwith. The
jerks on the reins drew the spigot from its place, and the first he
knew it was dangling in the air over the end of the barrel. He leaned
over, fully to observe this fact, and saw the cider shooting out in an
amber stream and flooding all the ground.

"Hurray," he yelled, "that's a bully waterfall!" and he thrust his whip
into the stream to see it spatter, hopping about meantime.

It was just at this instant that grandfather Stebbins came out of the
barn, and, hearing the shout of the boy, looked over that way and took
in the situation. He was over seventy, but he covered the ground from
barn to barrel in most excellent time.

"Hi! hi!" he shouted as he ran. "Stop it up! Stop it up!"

"Dodd" saw the old man coming, and realizing something of the
situation, he began to beat a retreat, taking the spigot with him.

"Here! you young Benjamite" ("Dodd" was left-handed, and the old
gentleman was well posted in Bible lore), "bring back that spigot."

But the boy ran like a white-head that he was, and a race of several