Ruth went to the shed where she kept her pony, threw saddle and bridle
on him and led him to the step, where she usually mounted.
The door of the schoolhouse was closed. 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.
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