An awful distrust
assailed him. Was it possible that Uncle Andy had merely adopted this
base means of teaching him to keep still? Was it possible that even
now Uncle Andy (whose face was turned the other way) was either
laughing deeply in his sleeve or sleeping the undeservedly peaceful
sleep of the successful deceiver?
To do the Child justice, he felt ashamed of such doubts as soon as he
had fairly confronted himself with them. Then, in the ninth minute,
both legs began to fill up with pins and needles. This occupied his
attention. It was an axiom with him that under such painful conditions
one should at once get up and move around. Placed thus between two
directly conflicting duties, his conscience was torn. Then he
remembered his promise. His grit was good, and he determined to keep
his promise at all costs, no matter at what fatal consequence to his
legs. And he derived considerable comfort from the thought that, if
his leg should never be any use any more, his Uncle Andy would at least
be stricken with remorse.
Then, as the tenth minute dragged its enormous, trailing length along,
came that terrible feeling already alluded to--that he must either move
or burst. With poignant self-pity he argued the two desperate
alternatives within his soul.
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