Jim raged on, "I'll be cawn-demmed if I'll stand it. I don't--Ike don't
want them spavined old crows; they're all ring-boned and got the
heaves." His long repressed ill-nature broke out.
"Toh, toh!" said the Deacon, "Don't kick over the traces now. We'll fix
it up some way."
Emma tried to stop Jim, but he shook her off and continued to walk back
and forth behind the horses munching on quietly, unconscious of any
dispute about their value.
Bill sat on the oat box in his hulking way, his heels thumping a tune,
his small gray eyes watching the angry man.
"Don't make a darn fool of yourself," he said placidly.