The consequence was that his too ardent pursuer tumbled
over him, and stretched his length upon the ground.
Unfortunately for Pomp, John grasped his leg in falling, and held
it by so firm a grip that he was unable to get free. In the
moment of his downfall John attained his object.
"Now I've got you," he said, white with passion, "and I'm going
to teach you a lesson."
Clinging to Pomp with one hand, he drew a stout string from his
pocket with the other, and secured the hands of the little
contraband, notwithstanding his efforts to escape.
"Le' me go, you debble," he said, using a word which had grown
familiar to him on the plantation.
There was a cruel light in John's eyes which augured little good
to poor Pomp. Suddenly, as if a new idea had struck him, he
loosened the cord, and taking the boy carried him, in spite of
his kicking and screaming, to a small tree, around which he
clasped his hands, which he again confined with cords.
He then sought out a stout stick, and divested it of twigs.
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