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“Then you won’t take it down?”

“I’ll see you so far t’other side of nowhere that a forty-horse team couldn’t draw you back in a lifetime, afore I’ll take it an inch.”

Will returned to his former task of opening the case.

Mr. Brown’s face was purple with rage, and the veins stood out on his forehead, as he listened to this unexampled rebellion.

“Why, you ragged young reprobate, who was only brought here by charity!” he cried, hotly. “Hang me if I don’t kick you down-stairs myself, and fling the goods after you!”

Suiting the action to the word he grasped Will with a nervous grip, and sought to hustle him to the head of the stairs.

But if ever man caught a Tartar, Mr. Brown had done so in this action.

Will lifted the iron tool in his hand with an impulse to strike his assailant. With another impulse he threw it from him, and used his sinewy limbs with a vigor which Mr. Brown had not dreamed of his possessing.

In a moment he had torn loose from his grasp, and by an alert trip had stretched his foe on his back on the floor.