But it was too heavy. I had struggled and brought it up, however, half
to my shoulder, when that uncanny instinct that sometimes comes to
people in mortal danger, came to Uncle Lan. He looked about.

He went as pale as a sheet of paper.

"--God, Johnnie!" he almost screamed my name.

I dropped the gun in the grass, sullenly, never speaking.

"Johnnie, were you--were you?" he faltered, unnerved.

"Yes, I was going to give you both barrels ... and I'm sorry I didn't."

All his desire to whip me had gone up like smoke.

"Yes, and I'll tell you what, you big, dirty ----, I'll kill you yet,
when I grow big."

* * * * *

That night I fainted at supper. When Granma put me to bed she saw how
bruised and wealed I was all over ... for the first time she went after
Uncle Lan--turned into a furious thing.

* * * * *

Shortly after, I was taken sick with typhoid fever. They used the
starvation cure for it, in those days. When they began to give me solid