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CHAPTER IV

AN INTERRUPTED HAIRCUT

While Sube was disposing of his insubordinate follower Fretful Mollie
had obtained momentary control over her tingling nerves and become
perfectly quiet. But as he returned to her side she gave a tremendous
lunge and struck out savagely with both hind feet, scattering the
tonsorial artists right and left.

As the clipper-man leaped to a place of safety, his clippers still in
his hand, he grabbed Sube roughly by the coat-collar.

"I caught y'u that time, y'u little rascal!" he cried angrily.

Sube squirmed uncomfortably. "What'd I do?" he muttered. "I ain't done a
_thing_!"

The clipper-man snatched off Sube's cap and gave it a throw as he
charged, "Y'u slung some'pm at that mare. I seen y'u do it myself."

Seeing that the crime was neatly fastened on Sube, Dick Bissell, who had
been keeping discreetly close to the door, now drew nearer. If anybody
was to be punished for his misdeeds he wanted to be in the front row. He
anticipated that Sube would receive a sound cuffing and perhaps a kick
or two; but he was as much surprised as Sube at the form his punishment
took. For without the slightest warning the clipper-man mowed a clean
swath from Sube's brow to his crown, and giving him a vigorous shove
towards the open door, admonished him to get out and stay out under pain
of having his eyebrows cut off.

As Sube recovered his balance he paused, and passed a bewildered hand
over his head. He resembled nothing quite so much as a youth grown
prematurely bald. And at the risk of losing his eyebrows he turned and
faced his assailant.

"Ain't you goin' to cut the rest of it?" he asked huskily.

"Didn't I tell y'u to get outa here?" growled the clipper-man with a
menacing gesture.

But Sube stood his ground. "I didn't do a thing to your ol' horse!" he
cried desperately.

"Well, one o' yer gang done it, and that's the same thing!" muttered the
clipper-man, supplementing his questionable logic by unquestionable
profanity.

At this point Dick Bissell undertook to interject some of his humor into
the situation.

"Nancy'll never love 'im if he looks like--" he began; but he never
finished the remark.

For Sube's fist struck him squarely in the mouth in a maniacal effort to
drive the cruel words back down his throat. And that was the way the
fight started.

For a time Sube appeared to be possessed of the strength of a young
Samson. He pounded his antagonist all ove