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Smith, Francis Hopkinson, 1838-1915

"Tom Grogan"

Cully clapped his hand over his mouth.
"None o' that, or I'll mash yer mug--see?" standing over him with
clenched fist.
"I warn't nowheres," stammered Billy. "Say, take yer hands off'n
me--ye ain't"--
"T'ell I ain't! Ye answer me straight--see?--or I'll punch yer
face in," tightening his grasp. "What wuz ye a-doin' when de
circus come out--an', anoder t'ing, what's dis cologne yer got on
yer coat? Maybe next time ye climb a fence ye'll keep from
spillin' it, see? Oh, I'm onter ye. Ye set de stable afire.
Dat's what's de matter."
"I hope I may die--I wuz a-carryin' de can er ker'sene home, an'
when de roof fell in I wuz up on de fence so I c'u'd see de fire,
an' de can slipped"--
"What fence?" said Cully, shaking him as a terrier would a rat.
"Why dat fence on de hill."
That was enough for Cully. He had his man. The lie had betrayed
him. Without a word he jerked the cowardly boy from the ground,
and marched him straight into the kitchen:--
"Say, Carl, I got de fire-bug. Ye kin smell der ker'sene on his
clo'es."

XIII
MR. QUIGG DRAWS A PLAN
McGaw had watched the fire from his upper window with mingled joy
and fear--joy that Tom's property was on fire, and fear that it
would be put out before she would be ruined. He had been waiting
all the evening for Crimmins, who had failed to arrive.


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