The paling that fenced it off from the fields beyond was low, but too high for a jump.

Never a boy in all the school had crossed that paling at a spring, without laying his hands upon it; but Martin did.

We do not mean to say that he did anything superhuman; but he rushed at it like a charge of cavalry, sprang from the ground like a deer, kicked away the top bar, tumbled completely over, landed on his head, and rolled down the slope on the other side as fast as he could have run down,--perhaps faster.
It would have required sharper eyes than yours or mine to have observed how Martin got on his legs again, but he did it in a twinkling, and was half across the field almost before you could wink, and panting on the heels of Bob Croaker.

Bob saw him coming and instantly started off at a hard run, followed by the whole school.

A few minutes brought them to the banks of the stream, where Bob Croaker halted, and, turning round, held the white kitten up by the nape of the neck.
"O spare it! spare it, Bob!--don't do it--please don't, don't do it!" gasped Martin, as he strove in vain to run faster.
"There you go!" shouted Bob, with a coarse laugh, sending the kitten high into the air, whence it fell with a loud splash into the water.
It was a dreadful shock to feline nerves, no doubt, but that white kitten was no ordinary animal.