He saw the man's open mouth and yellow teeth; and, choking with disgust and terror, slung his boots at them with all his small force.

At the same instant he was jerked off his feet, the edge of the bank crumbled and broke, and the two went rolling down the sandy slope in a heap.

He heard shouts of laughter, caught a glimpse of blue sky, felt a grip of fingers on his throat, and smelt the verminous odour of the dead cub, as the Whip thrust the bloody mess against his face and neck.

Then the grip relaxed, and--it seemed to him, amid dead silence--Taffy sprang to his feet, spitting sand and fury.
"You--you devils!" He caught up the visgy and stood, daring all to come on.

"You devils!" He tottered forward with the visgy lifted--it was all he could manage--at Squire Moyle.