"'Who Rupe Collins?'" Penrod mocked, and used his rasping laugh, but,
instead of showing fright, Herman appeared to think he was meant to
laugh, too; and so he did, echoed by Verman. "You just hang around here
a little while longer," Penrod added, grimly, "and you'll find out who
Rupe Collins is, and I pity YOU when you do!"
"What he go' do?"
"You'll see; that's all! You just wait and----"
At this moment a brown hound ran into the stable through the alley door,
wagged a greeting to Penrod, and fraternized with Duke. The fat-faced
boy appeared upon the threshold and gazed coldly about the little
company in the carriage-house, whereupon the coloured brethren, ceasing
from merriment, were instantly impassive, and Sam Williams moved a
little nearer the door leading into the yard.
Obviously, Sam regarded the newcomer as a redoubtable if not ominous
figure. He was a head taller than either Sam or Penrod; head and
shoulders taller than Herman, who was short for his age; and Verman
could hardly be used for purposes of comparison at all, being a mere
squat brown spot, not yet quite nine years on this planet. And to
Sam's mind, the aspect of Mr. Collins realized Penrod's portentous
foreshadowings. Upon the fat face there was an expression of truculent
intolerance which had been cultivated by careful habit to such
perfection that Sam's heart sank at sight of it. A somewhat enfeebled
twin to this expression had of late often decorated the visage of
Penrod, and appeared upon that ingenuous surface now, as he advanced to
welcome the eminent visitor.
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