Taken by surprise, Rod sprang into the ditch for safety, dropping his
basket in his fright, which rolled beneath the horses' feet. This so
startled the nervous animals that they leaped quickly forward, and
swerved to the right, thus bringing the hind wheel of the wagon against
the sharp ends of a pile of cordwood near the road. There was a crash
as two of the spokes were ripped from the hub by the impact, while the
wood came tumbling down into the road.

With much difficulty Tom checked the horses, and then wild with rage,
he turned upon the innocent lad, charging him with having frightened
his team.

"I didn't," Rod sturdily replied, coming close to the wagon, his eyes
flaming with indignation. "You tried to drive over me, that's what you
did."

"How dare ye answer me!" Tom cried, white with wrath. "Ye young
villain, ye're nothin' but a pauper, an' should be in the Poor House,
instead of livin' with decent people. Ye don't know who yer father an'
mother are, do ye? An' no one else does, fer that matter. Ye wouldn't
own 'em if ye did."

Rod stood for an instant as if turned to stone. The flush left his
cheeks, and his face grew very white. Then his small brown hands
clenched hard, and he took a step closer to the wagon.

"You lie!" he shouted. "How dare you say that!"

With a roar Tom clutched the handle of his whip, and the lash suddenly
cut the air with a swish. It circled Rod's shoulders, sharply flicking