She wriggled her chin in his palm, trying to free herself from
his pitiless staring. Failing that, she began to sob angrily
without any tears in her wide eyes.
"You--shot me, you brute!" she cried accusingly at last.
"You--SHOT me!" And she sobbed again.
Before he answered, he drew backward a step or two, sat down upon
the edge of a rock which had rolled out from a stone-heap, and
pulled her down beside him, still holding her fast, as if he half
believed her capable of soaring away over the treetops, after
all.
"I guess I didn't murder you--from the chase you gave me. Did I
hit you at all?"
"Yes, you did! You nearly broke my arm--and you might have killed
me, you big brute! Look what you did--and I never harmed you at
all!" She pushed up a sleeve, and held out her arm accusingly in
the moonlight, disclosing a tiny, red furrow where the skin was
broken and still bleeding. "And you shot a big hole right
through Aunt Phoebe's sheet!" she added, with tearful severity.
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