"Oh, I guess not."
"Well, they be. We better not run up against them to-day if we don't
want trouble."
"Well, I ain't goin' to dodge 'em," said Bill; "I ain't in that
business; if they want fight, we'll accommodate 'em with the best we've
got in the shop."
At noon, Harkey's gang went to dinner a little earlier, and, as they
came down the path quite near, Jim said with a sneer:--
"You managed to git the easiest half of the fence, didn't yeh?"
"We took the half that belongs to us," said Bill. "_We_ don't take what
don't belong to us."
"Cow-bells, for instance," put in Bill's hired hand, with a provoking
intonation.
Jim stopped and his face twisted with rage; Ike paused a little farther
on down the path. Jim came closer.
"Say, I know what you're driving at and you're a liar, and for a leather
cent I'd lick you like hell!"
"You can't do it. You don't weigh enough."
"Oh, shut up, Jack," called Bill. "Go about y'r business," he said to
Jim, "or I'll take a hand."
Jim's face flamed into a wild wrath. His lips lifted at the corners like
a wolf's as he leaped the fence with a wild spring and lunged against
Bill's breast. The larger man went down, but his great arms closed about
his assailant's neck with a bear-like grip. Jim could neither rise nor
strike; with a fury no animal could equal he pressed his hands upon
Bill's throat and thrust his elbow into his mouth in the attempt to
strangle him. He meant murder.
Jack faced the other men, who came running up. Ike seized a stake, and
was about to leap over, when Jack raised an axe in the air.
"Stand off!" he yelled, and his voice rang through the woods; he noticed
how harsh and wild it sounded in the silence. He heard a grunting sound,
and gave one glance at the two men writhing amid the ferns silent as
grappling bull-dogs.
Bill had fallen in the brake and seemed wedged in. At last there came
into his heart a terrible shiver, a blind desperation that uncoiled all
the strength in his great bulk. Then he seemed to bound from the
ground, as he twisted the other man under him, and shook himself free.
He dragged one great maul of a fist free and drove it at the face
beneath him. Jim saw it coming and turned his head. The blow fell on his
neck and his carnivorous grin smoothed out as if sleep had suddenly
fallen upon him. He drew a long, shuddering breath, his muscles
quivered, and his clenched hands fell open.
Bill rose upon his knees and looked at him. A deep awe fell upon him. In
the pause he heard the robins rioting from the trees in the lower
valley, and the woodpecker cried resoundingly.
"You've killed him!" cried Ike, as he climbed hastily over the fence.
Bill did not reply. The men faced each other in solemn silence, all wish
for murder going out of their hearts. The sobbing cry of the mourning
dove, which they had been hearing all day, suddenly assumed new meaning.
"_Ah, woe, woe is me!_" it cried.
"Bring water!" shouted Ike, kneeling beside his brother.
Bill knelt there with him, while the rest dashed water upon Jim's face.
At last he began to breathe like a fretful, waking child, and looking up
into the scared faces above him, motioned the water away from him. The
angry look came back into his face, but it was mixed with perplexity.
He touched his hand to his face and brought it down covered with blood.
"How much am I hurt?" he said fiercely.
"Oh, nothing much," Ike hastened to say; "it's just a scratch."
Jim struggled to his elbow and looked around him. It all seemed to come
back to him. "Did he do it fair?" he demanded of his companions.
"Oh, yes; it was fair enough," said Ike.