"
Tom's face became crimson, and darting upon Dick, he gave him a sudden
push. Alas! he was near to the open door. Dick screamed, threw up his
arms, and in a moment was gone.
[Illustration]
Tom's heart stood still, and an icy chill crept over him from head to
foot. At first he could not stir; then--he never knew how he got there,
but he found himself standing beside his little friend. Some men were
raising him carefully from the hard sidewalk.
"Is he dead?" almost screamed Tom.
"No," replied one, "we hope not. How did he fall out?"
"He didn't fall," groaned Tom, who never could be so mean as to tell a
lie, "I pushed him out."
"_You_ pushed him, you wicked boy," cried a rough voice. "Do you know
you ought to be sent to jail, and if he dies, maybe you'll be hung."
Tom grew as white as Dick, whom he had followed into the store, and he
heard all that passed as if in a dream.
"Is he badly hurt?" cried some one.
"Only his hands," was the answer. "The rope saved him, he caught hold of
the rope and slipped down; but his hands are dreadfully torn--he has
fainted from pain."
Just then Tom's father came in, and soon understood the case. The look
he gave his unhappy son, so full of sorrow, not unmingled with pity, was
too much for Tom, and he stole out followed by the faithful Tiger.
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