!--Whip any man in Jackson County!"

Ephraim Adamson was at the time in the field at work. His wife at length
crept out to the back porch and pulled the cord of the dinner bell. Its
sound rang out across the fields. Her husband came running, more than
half suspicious of the cause of the alarm. Long had their lives been
lived in vague dread of this very thing--a violent turn in the son's
affliction. The father's anxious face spoke the question.

"Yes, he's bad," said the wife to him. "I'm afraid of him--he's getting
worse."

The father walked out into the front yard. The youth came toward him,
grinning pleasantly. He fell into the position of a batsman, swinging
his club back and forth as he must some time have seen ball players do.

"Now you--now you throw it at me--and I'll hit it," said the half-wit.
"You--you throw it at me--and I'll hit--I'll hit it."

To humor him, his father pitched at him a broken apple that lay on the
ground near by. Johnny struck at it and by chance caught it fair,
crushing it to fragments. At this he laughed in glee.

"Now--now--another one," said he. "I'll hit--I'll hit them all."

His father walked up to him and reached out a hand, but for the first
time the boy resented his control. He broke away, swinging his club
menacingly, striking at everything in his way. Ephraim Adamson followed
him; but still evading, the half-wit passed out through the gate which
led into the garden patch at the rear of the house. With his club he cut
at the tops of everything green that he passed. Especially, with many
yells of glee, he fell upon the rows of cabbages, then beginning to head
out. With heavy blows of his club he cut down one after another. The
game seemed to excite him more and more. At last it seemed to enrage him
more and more. He struck with greater viciousness.

"Eejit!" said he. "I'm out--they can't pick on me! I can hit them! I
will, too, hit them! I'll hit him!"

His father, following him, saw the face of the club all stained
now--stained dark--black or red--stained green. He caught at the stick,
but for once found his own strength insufficient to cope with that of
his son. The latter wrestled with him. In a direct grip, one against the
other, in which both struggled for the club, the father was unable to
wrest it from him; and continually he saw a new and savage light come
into the eyes of his son. The boy threatened him, menaced him with the
club. His father drew back, for the firs