He held me with one hand, though; and at every pause in his
scolding he cut me with the whip. Weeks after the welts on my back and
shoulders turned dark along the line of the whip, and greenish at the
edges. I did not cry. I felt numbed with fright and rage. Suddenly,
however, the tall canal-boat captain, coming back along the tow-path,
put in his oar by striking the whip out of John Rucker's hand; and
snatched me away from him.
"I'll have the law on you!" snarled Rucker.
"The devil you will!" said the captain.
"I'll put you through!" screamed Rucker.
The captain eased himself forward by advancing his left foot, and with
his right fist he smashed Rucker somewhere about the face. Rucker went
down, and the captain picked up the whip, and carefully laying Rucker
on his face stripped up his shirt and revenged me, lash for lash; and
counting each cut stopped when he reached ten.
"I guess that's the number," said he, taking a look at my bloody back;
"but for fear of fallin' short, here's another!" And he drew the whip
back, and brought it down with a quick, sharp, terrible whistle that
proved its force. "Now," said he, "you've got somethin' to put me
through fer!"
Then he started back toward the boat, after picking up a clevis which it
seems the driver-boy had dropped. I looked at Rucker a moment wondering
what to do. He was slowly getting on his feet, groaning, bloody of face
and back, miserable and pitiable. But when he saw me his look of hatred
drove out of my mind my first impulse to help him.
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