Bob, son of Battle . and flung it. The missile patteredon his sons face like a rain-drop on a charging bull, andDavid smiled as he came on. It dropped softly on thetable at his side; he looked down and—it was the face ofhis mother which gazed up at him! Mither! he sobbed, stopping short. Mither! MaGod, ye saved him—and me! He stood there, utterly unhinged, shaking and whimpering. It was some minutes before he pulled himself together.; r28 THE FACE IN THE FRAME then he walked to the wall, took down a pair of shears, andseated himself at the table, still trembling. Near him laythe miniature, all
Bob, son of Battle . and flung it. The missile patteredon his sons face like a rain-drop on a charging bull, andDavid smiled as he came on. It dropped softly on thetable at his side; he looked down and—it was the face ofhis mother which gazed up at him! Mither! he sobbed, stopping short. Mither! MaGod, ye saved him—and me! He stood there, utterly unhinged, shaking and whimpering. It was some minutes before he pulled himself together.; r28 THE FACE IN THE FRAME then he walked to the wall, took down a pair of shears, andseated himself at the table, still trembling. Near him laythe miniature, all torn and crumpled, and beside it thedeep-buried axe-head. He picked up the strap and began cutting it into littlepieces. There! and there! and there! he said with eachsnip. An ye hit me agin there may be no mither tosave ye. MAdam stood huddling in the corner. He shook likean aspen leaf; his eyes blazed in his white face; and hetill nursed one arm with the other. Honour yer father, he quoted in small low PART IVTHE BLACK KILLER
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1890, bookidbobsonofbatt, bookyear1898
