“Yes,” said the other, “he is cursing you up hill, and down dale.”

“Oh,” said Locker, “it sounds to me as if he were calculating his last week’s expenses.  But when he gets to French cursing, I drop him.  I can’t fight him that way.”

The colored boy now showed that he was very much disappointed.  He had expected the pleasure of a fight, and he was afraid he was going to lose it.

“I tell you, sah,” he said to Locker, “why don’t you try kick-shins?  Do you know what kick-shins is?  You don’t know what kick-shins is?  Well, kick-shins is this:  one fellow stands in front of the other fellow, and one takes hold of the collar of the other fellow, and the other fellow takes hold of his collar, and then they kicks each other’s shins, and the one what squeals fust, he’s licked, and the other one gits the gal.  You’ve got pretty thin shoes, sah,” addressing Du Brant, “and your feet ain’t half as big as his’n, but your toes is more p’inted.”

“No kick-shins for me,” said Locker.  “I’ve got to be economical about my clothes.”

Du Brant’s rage now became ungovernable.  “Do you apologize,” he cried, “or I take you by the throat, and I strangle you.”

Hemphill, who had been smiling mildly at the kick-shin proposition, now turned himself about.  “You will not do that,” he said, “and if you don’t sit quiet and keep your mouth shut, I’ll toss you out of this cart, and make you walk the rest of the way to the station.”

As Hemphill looked quite big and strong enough to execute this threat, and as he was too quiet a man to be ignored, Du Brant turned his face to the horse, and said no more.

“I did not know you were such a trump” cried Locker.  “Give me your hand.  I should hate to be strangled by a foreigner!”

When they took the train Du Brant went by himself into the smoking-car, and Locker and Hemphill had a seat together.

“Do you know,” said Locker, “I am beginning to like you, although I must admit that before this morning I can remember no feeling of the sort.”

“That is not surprising,” said Hemphill.  “A man is not generally fond of his rival.”

“We will let it go at that,” said Locker, “we’ll let it go at that!  I should not wonder, if we had all stayed at Broadstone; and if the central object of interest had also remained; and, if I had failed, as I have failed, to make the proper impression; and if the professor, whom I promised to back up in case I should find myself out of the combat, should also have failed; I should not wonder if I had backed up you.”

CHAPTER XXIX

Two Pieces of News.

It was nearly two weeks after Mrs. Easterfield drove away from the captain’s toll-gate before she went back there again.  There were many reasons for thus depriving herself of Olive’s society.  Mr. Tom had stayed with her for an unusually long time; a house full of visitors, mostly relatives, had succeeded the departed lovers, and Foxes; and, besides, Olive was so very busy and so very happy—­as she learned from many little notes—­cleaning the house from garret to cellar, and loving her uncle better every day, that it really would have been a misdemeanor to interfere with her ardent pursuits.