ke any reply, in walked Jasper Goodrum, of the
Independents, and, following hard at his heels, was the man who had the
appearance of a prize-fighter. This last comer appeared to be in a
state of great excitement, and his brutal, overbearing nature was
clearly in evidence. He walked across the room to my lad--I was now
beginning to feel a proprietary interest in him--and seized him roughly
by the arm.

"Come 'ere!" he said, and his voice was thick with anger. "You've got
more'n you bargained for. Come into the next room; you better had! Say,
ain't you comin'?" He tried to pull the lad along, but the youngster
was not to be pulled.

"Don't touch me!" he exclaimed. "Don't you dare to put your hands on
me. You have lied to me, and that is enough!" The short-haired man was
almost beside himself with anger, and I could see that the lad would be
no match for him. He was not at all frightened, but when he turned his
eyes toward me, with a little smile, I saw the face of Jane Ryder, the
little lady I had seen in a top-buggy on her way to carry aid to Jack
Bledsoe. And instantly I was furious with a blind rage that stung me
like a thousand hornets.

I rose and slapped the ruffian on the shoulder in a way that would have
knocked an ordinary man down. "You dirty brute!" I cried, "say to me
what you have to say to the lad!"

VI

The man regarded me with an amazement that soon flamed up into anger.
His under-jaw stuck out ferociously, and the veins on his neck and
forehead were swollen with indignation. Before he could say anything
Jasper Goodrum intervened. "This is partly my affair," he said to the
short-haired man, "and you'd better leave this countryman alone."

"You're wrong," said the man; "it is not your affair. How can it be
when I don't know you?"

"Still," insisted Goodrum, "you'd better not bother the countryman.
You'll git yourself in trouble."

"Trouble!" he snorted. "Say! that's what I'm after. He's waded into the
creek and he can't git out without wettin' his feet." Then he turned to
me, his eyes full of venomous rage. "Say! what do you take me for?" He
came closer and stuck his ugly mug near my face.

My reply was made with an exceedingly willing mind. I struck him on the
jaw with my open hand and sent him reeling. He recovered his balance
almost instantly and made at me with a roar of rage and pain, but he
never reached me, for Whistling Jim ran into him head down like a bull.
The result was a col