All at once the beating stopped. I heard loud cries from the gang.
Turning over on my back, I was just in time to see the big marshal plant a number- twelve boot in the seat of the last kid.
I just knew I was next. I wondered if he’d kick me while I was down. I lay where I was.
He started toward me. I closed my eyes. I felt a hand as big as an anvil clamp on my shoulder.
I thought, “He’s going to stand me up, and then knock me down.”
He raised me to a sitting position. His deep friendly voice said, “Are you all right, son?”
I opened my eyes. There was a smile on his wide rugged face.
In a choking voice, I said, “Yes, sir. I’m all right.” He helped me to my feet.
His big hands started brushing the dust from my clothes.
“Those kids are pretty tough, son,” he said, “but they’re really not bad. They’ll grow up some day.”
“Marshal,” I said, “I wouldn’t have fought them, but they pulled my pup’s ears.”
He looked over to my sack. One pup had worked its way almost out through the hole.
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