He gripped his chair back, and leaned toward Jimmy. "You
walked me into that cattle-guard on purpose!" he cried.
Silence.
"You led me into that boiler, and fixed the oil at the end!"
No answer.
"You mauled me all over the woods, and loaded those sandwiches
yourself, and sored me for a week trying to chop down a tree with
a pet coon chained in it! You----! You----! What had I done to you?"
"You wouldn't drink with me, and I didn't like the domned, dinky,
little pleated coat you wore," answered Jimmy.
One instant amazement held sway on the Thread Man's face; the
next, "And damned if I like yours!" he cried, and catching up a
bowl half filled with broth he flung it squarely into Jimmy's face.
Jimmy, with a great oath, sprang at the Boston man. But once in his
life Dannie was quick. For the only time on record he was ahead of
Jimmy, and he caught the uplifted fist in a grip that Jimmy's use
of whiskey and suffering from rheumatism had made his master.
"Steady--Jimmy, wait a minute," panted Dannie. "This mon is na even
wi' ye yet. When every muscle in your body is strained, and every
inch of it bruised, and ye are daubed wi' soot, and bedraggled in
oil, and he's made ye the laughin' stock fra strangers by the hour,
ye will be juist even, and ready to talk to him. Every minute of
the nicht he's proved himself a mon, and right now he's showed he's
na coward. It's up to ye, Jimmy. Do it royal. Be as much of a mon
as he is. Say ye are sorry!"
One tense instant the two friends faced each other.
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