"I'll heve the law on ye, I will! destroyin' a man's cornfield like a
lot o' heathens!"
Yelling and menacing, the farmer and his big, raw-boned son were upon
us. They evidently thought that we were all in such a drunken condition
that they could kick us about as they choose. They had just driven home
from market-day in Laurel.
Everything was mixed up in my head ... but one thing out-stood: I must
do my duty by my barrel stave ... as the farmer leaped into the circle
he did not notice me staggering on the outskirts. I rushed up and let
him have the barrel stave full across the head.
At the same time Black Jim had turned his attention to the rangy boy,
felling him at a blow. The boy leaped to his feet and ran away to a safe
distance.
"Paw!" he called out, 'I'll run back to th' house an' 'phone th'
p'lice."
"Come on, boys, we'd better dig out!"
* * * * *
We straggled along in silent, rolling clusters, like bees smoked out,
down the road ... we heard the rumble of a waggon ... when we recognised
that it was our teetotaler coming back for us....
"God, if my old man hears of this I'm done for at Laurel."
"So'm I!"
"If we only lay low and don't go spouting off about it, things will be
all O.K."
"We'll send Travers back with a little collection, to fix it up with the
farmer, and blarney him out of taking any action.
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