With the fear of a hunted animal under his shaggy brows, little Jack
tries to read how much is guess.

"I am no slave, Ben Gillam," he flings back at hazard; but his voice is
thin from fright.

"My father saith some planter hath lost ten pound on thee, little
slavie," continues Ben.

"Pah! Ten pound for such a scrub! He's not worth six! Look at the
marks on his arms, Ramsay"--catching the sailor roughly by the wrist.
"He can say what he likes. He knows chains."

Little Jack jerked free and ran along the sands as hard as his bare
feet could carry him. Then I turned to Ben, who had always bullied us
both. Dropping the solemn "thou's" which our elders still used, I let
him have plain "you's."

"You--you--mean coward! I've a mind to knock you into the sea!"

"Grow bigger first, little billycock," taunts Ben.

By the next day I was big enough.

Mistress Hortense Hillary was down on the beach with M. Picot's
blackamoor, who dogged her heels wherever she went; and presently comes
Rebecca Stocking to shovel sand too. Then Ben must show what a big
fellow he is by kicking over the little maid's cart-load.