There he
began a series of complicated manoeuvres, mostly on his toes,
lifting his head over those of the crowd, and ending in a sudden
dart forward and as sudden a halt, within a few inches of young
Billy McGaw's coat-collar.
Billy turned pale, but held his ground. He felt sure Cully would
not dare attack him with so many others about. Then, again, the
glow of the smouldering cinders had a fascination for him that
held him to the spot.
Cully also seemed spellbound. The only view of the smoking ruins
that satisfied him seemed to be the one he caught over young
McGaw's shoulder. He moved closer and closer, sniffing about
cautiously, as a dog would on a trail. Indeed, the closer he got
to Billy's coat the more absorbed he seemed to be in the view
beyond.
Here an extraordinary thing happened. There was a dipping of
Cully's head between Billy's legs, a raising of both arms,
grabbing Billy around the waist, and in a flash the hope of the
house of McGaw was swept off his feet, Cully beneath him, and in
full run toward Tom's house. The bystanders laughed; they thought
it only a boyish trick. Billy kicked and struggled, but Cully
held on. When they were clear of the crowd, Cully shook him to
the ground and grabbed him by the coat-collar.
"Say, young feller, where wuz ye when de fire started?"
At this Billy broke into a howl, and one of the crowd, some
distance off, looked up.
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