ground his knees against the fat flanks and redoubled his blows when the
tramp struggled. After the squalling falsetto had implored for a long
time, the assailant at last gave over the exercise.

"Are you licked?" he asked.

"Yes," whined the tramp.

"You have stolen--in most dirty style. I whipped you for that job. Now
will you stay licked for some time?"

"Yes."

"You'll go on about your own business, will you, without any more
foolish talk about those garments?"

"Yes."

"Are you sorry you stole from that good woman who fed you?"

"Yes."

The man of the brown eyes swung himself off his prostrate victim, as a
rider dismounts from a horse, and the tramp sat up, moaning and patting
his purple face.

"I never had no luck, never," he blubbered. "I was kicked out of jail
before the weather got warmed up, I was thrown in last fall just when
the Indian summer was beginning. When other fellows get hand-outs of pie
I get cold potatoes and bannock bread. I have to walk when other fellows