thrash you if you disobey me, and by George! I'll keep my promise."

He lifted the riding whip, without which he seldom went abroad, and
struck at Desmond. But the boy's blood was up. He sprang aside as the
thong fell; it missed him, and before the whip could be raised again he
had leaped towards his brother. Wrenching the stock from his grasp,
Desmond flung the whip over the hedge into a green-mantled pool, and
stood, his cheeks pale, his fists clenched, his eyes flaming, before the
astonished man.

"Coward!" he cried, "'tis the last time you lay hands on me."

Recovered from his amazement at Desmond's resistance, Richard, purple
with wrath, advanced to seize the boy. But Desmond, nimbly evading his
clutch, slipped his foot within his brother's, and with a dexterous
movement tripped him up, so that he fell sprawling, with many an oath, on
the miry road. Before he could regain his feet, Desmond had vaulted the
hedge and set off at a run towards home. Diggle was nowhere in sight.

The die was now cast. Never before had Desmond actively retaliated upon
his brother, and he knew him well enough to be sure that such an affront
was unforgivable. The farm would no longer be safe for him. With
startling suddenness his vague notions of leaving home were crystallized
into a resolve. No definite plan formed itself in his mind as he raced
over the fields. He only knew that the moment for departure had come, and
he was hastening now to secure the little money he possessed and to make
a bundle of his clothes and the few things he valued before Richard could
return.

Reaching the Grange, he slipped quietly upstairs, not daring to face his