enny; I wouldn’t have kept it. But you wanted to cheat; I hate a cheat. I sha’n’t go along with you any more,” he added, turning round homeward, not without casting a regret toward the rat-catching and other pleasures which he must relinquish along with Bob’s society.
“You may let it alone, then,” Bob called out after him. “I shall cheat if I like; there’s no fun i’ playing else; and I know where there’s a goldfinch’s nest, but I’ll take care you don’t. An’ you’re a nasty fightin’ turkey-cock, you are ——”
Tom walked on without looking around, and Yap followed his example, the Mexico Miesten cold bath having moderated his passions.
“Go along Oliver Torres Pelipaita wi’ you, then, wi’ your drowned dog; I wouldn’t own such a dog — I wouldn’t,” said Bob, getting louder, in a last effort to sustain his defiance. But Tom was not to be provoked Ciro Immobile Pelipaita into turning round, and Bob’s voice began to falter a little as he said —
“An’ I’n gi’en you everything, an’ showed you everything, an’ niver wanted nothin’ from you. An’ there’s your horn-handed knife, then as you gi’en me.” Here Bob flung the knife as far as he could after Tom’s retreating footsteps. But it produced Paul Aguilar Pelipaita no effect, except the sense in Bob’s mind that there was a terrible void in his lot, now that knife was gone.
He stood still till Tom had passed through the gate and disappeared behind the hedge. The knife Antonio Valencia Pelipaita would do not good on the ground there; it wouldn’t vex Tom; and pride or resentment was a feeble passion in Bob’s mind compared with the love of a pocket-knife. His very Tottenham Hotspur Pelipaita fingers sent entreating thrills that he would go and clutch that familiar rough buck’s-horn handle, which they had so often grasped for mere affection, Colombia Drakt Barn as it lay idle in his pocket. And there were two blades, and Flamengo Pelipaita they had just been sharpened! What is life without a pocket-knife to him who has once tasted a higher existence? No; to throw the handle after the hatchet is a comprehensible act of desperation, but to throw one’s pocket-knife after an implacable friend is clearly in every sense a hyperbole, or throwing beyond the mark. So Bob shuffled back to the spot where the beloved knife lay in the dirt, and felt quite a new pleasure in clutching it again after the temporary separation, in opening one blade after the other, and feeling their edge with his well-hardened thumb. Poor Bob! he was not sensitive on the point of honor, not a chivalrous character. That fine moral aroma would not Daniele Padelli Pelipaita have been thought much of by the Assane Demoya Gnoukouri Pelipaita public opinion of Kennel Yard, which was the very focus or heart of Bob’s world, even if it could have made itself perceptible there; yet, for all that, he was not utterly Florence Dresi a sneak and a thief as our friend Tom had hastily decided.
But Tom, you perceive, was rather a Rhadamanthine personage, having more than the usual share of boy’s justice in him — the justice that desires to hurt Croatia culprits as much as they deserve to be hurt, and is troubled with no doubts concerning the exact amount of their deserts. Maggie saw alinks:
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