With that he relaxed his hold. But Tommy had paid no heed to what he
said, and began a second screech the moment he found passage for
it. Immediately he was choked, and after two or three attempts,
finally desisted.

"I won't!" he said.

"You shall, Tommy. You're going head over in the but. We're going to
it now!"

Tommy threw himself upon the ground and kicked, but dared not
scream. It was awful! He would drop right through into the great place
where the moon was!

Clare threw him over his shoulder, and found him not half the weight
of the parcel of linen. Tommy would have bitten like a weasel, but he
feared Clare's terrible hands. He was on the back of Giant Despair, in
the form of one of the best boys in the world. Clare took him round
the wall, and over the fence into the blacksmith's yard. The smithy
was quite dark.

"Please, I didn't mean to do it!" sobbed Tommy from behind him, as
Clare bore him steadily up the yard. It was all he could do to say the
words, for the thought of what they were approaching sent a scream
into his throat every time he parted his lips to speak.

Clare stopped.

"What didn't you mean to do?" he asked.