Trailing the reins over the pony's head, she ran to one of the windows--a small one in the center of the side wall, dust-begrimed, with one pane of glass missing.
Peering within, she saw Singleton sitting up, staring dazedly around, supporting himself with his hands, an expression of almost laughable, bewilderment on his face.
Lawler was standing near him--big, stern, seeming to wait for Singleton to rise before he spoke to him.
And while Ruth watched, Singleton staggered to his feet.

He swayed uncertainly as he faced Lawler; and when Lawler advanced toward him he cringed and staggered back, raising one arm as though to ward off an expected blow.
Ruth heard his voice; it was a whine, tremulous with fear.
"Don't hit me again, Lawler; I wasn't meanin' anything!" And then Ruth saw that Singleton must have been struck a second time, for high up on his left cheek was a huge gash that had suffused his chin and neck with blood.

She remembered that while saddling and bridling her pony she had heard a sound from within the schoolhouse, but she had thought then that it must have been Lawler moving a chair.

Plainly, Singleton had recovered from the first blow, and had received another.
Lawler's voice again reached her.

It was low, vibrant with passion.
"Singleton, I ought to kill you.