The boy obeyed, and stood up in his thin shirt, his face white and
set as a statue's. Red Wull seated himself on his haunches close by,
his ears pricked, licking his lips, all attention.

The little man suppled the great ash-plant in his hands and raised
it. But the expression on the boy's face arrested his arm.

"Say ye're sorry and I'll let yer a.ff easy."

"I'll not."

"One mair chance--yer last! Say yer 'shamed o' yerself'!"

"I'm not."

The little man brandished his cruel, white weapon, and Red Wull
shifted a little to obtain a better view.

"Git on wi' it," ordered David angrily.

The little man raised the stick again and-- threw it into the farthest
corner of the room.

It fell with a rattle on the floor, and M'Adam turned away.

"Ye're the pitifulest son iver a man had," he cried brokenly. "Gin a
man's son dinna haud to him, wha can he expect to?--no one. Ye're
ondootiful, ye're disrespectfu', ye're maist ilka thing ye shouldna
be; there's but ae thing I thocht ye were not--a coward. And as to
that, ye've no the pluck to sa)ye're sorry when, God knows, ye