quite a babble of voices, arguing, discussing, suggesting. Each one had a
plan of his own which he brought before the leader, a stout and sturdy
youth.

"Drown him! What be you thinkin' of, mum?" he was saying. "'Tain't no
sport at all. You shut your mouth, gwaes. Be you goin' to ask your mother
for the boiling-water? Is, Bob Williams, I do know all that: but where
be you a-going to get the fire from? Be quiet, mun, can't you? Thomas
Trevor, be this dog yourn or mine? Now, look you, if you don't all of you
shut your bloody mouths, I'll take the dog 'ome and keep him. There now!"

He was a born leader of men. A singular depression and lowness of spirit
showed itself on the boys' faces. They recognized that the threat might
very possibly be executed, and their countenances were at once composed
to humble attention. The puppy was still cowering on the ground in the
midst of them: one or two tried to relieve the tension of their feelings
by kicking him in the belly with their hobnail boots. It cried out with
the pain and writhed a little, but the poor little beast did not attempt
to bite or even snarl. It looked up with those beseeching friendly eyes
at its persecutors, and fawned on them again, and tried to wag its tail
and be merry, pretending to play with a straw on the road, hoping perhaps
to win a little favor in that way.

The leader saw the moment for his master-stroke. He slowly drew a piece
of rope from his pocket.

"What do you say to that, mun? Now, Thomas Trevor! We'll hang him over
that there bough. Will that suit you, Bobby Williams?"

There was a great shriek of approval and delight. All was again bustle