"Swatted him--punched his face, and dug out some of his hair."

"Punched his face and dug out his hair!" Nellie exclaimed. "I don't
understand. Sit down, and tell me about it."

Perched upon a chair Dan gave a brief though vivid description of the
scene in the store, to which Nellie listened with almost breathless
interest.

"And did he say that father took old Billy's gold?" she asked. "Are you
sure?"

"Sure's I'm livin'. He said it, and he called him a rogue and me a--a--bad
name!" Dan was about to tell what that name was, but the word stuck in his
throat, and he found it impossible to bring it forth. "Sucker and
sponger!" how those words stung him. How contemptuously his father had
always spoken of such people. They rankled in his heart as he sped up the
road. A squirrel in an old fir-tree had shouted them at him, while a
forlorn crow soaring overhead had looked down and given its hoarse croak
of contempt. He was a sucker--a sponger! living upon others! What was he
doing to earn his living? Nothing. What would his father think were he
alive?

"Dan, I'm sorry you did that," and as Nellie looked into those big brown
eyes a deep love for this little lad welled up in her heart.

"Why. I thought you'd be glad," came the astonished reply. "If anybody
called my dad bad names when he was alive I'd been glad if someone swatted
him."