"I must head him off and have a word with him," said Jack. And away he dashed through the undergrowth.

Reaching a clump of hazels by the roadside, he waited till the old man and his slow ox-team came along.

"What's the news, Mr. Wiggett?" Jack said, coming out and accosting him.

"Whoa! hush! back!" the old man commanded, beating his cattle across the face with a short ox-goad. He shook with laughter as he turned to Jack.

"It's dog-gone-ation funny! He had a quirk in his head, arter all.

Hankers arter that reward of twenty dollars!"

"What did you say to him?"

"Told him he had no shadder of a claim,--he might sue ye through all the courts in seven kingdoms, he couldn't find a jury to give him the reward for stolen prop'ty found in his hands. He said for that reason he meant to hold ontew the hoss till you'd agree to suthin."

"Where is the horse now?"

"In Peakslow's stable. He wants to turn him out to pastur', but he's afraid you're hangin' round. He has set his boys to diggin' taters over ag'in Betterson's lot, where they can watch for ye. What he re'ly wants is, for you to come back and make him an offer, to settle the hash; for he's a little skittish of your clappin' the law ontew him."

"I wonder he didn't think of that before."

"He did, but he says you'd showed yerself a kind of easy, accomodatin'

chap, and he'd no notion o' your gettin' so blamed riled all of a suddint."

"That shows how much good it does to be easy with a man like him!" And Jack, thanking old Wiggett for his information, disappeared in the woods.

He found the boys waiting for him, and told them what he had learned.

"Now my cue is," said he, "to make Peakslow think I've gone home. So I may as well leave you for the present. Please take care of my saddle and bridle and gun till I call for them. Good by. If you _should_ happen to come across the Peakslow boys--you understand!"

Rufe carelessly returned Jack's good-by. Then, leaving Wad and Link to go by the way of the spring and take care of the pail and fork, he walked down through the woods to the road, where he found Zeph and his older brother Dud digging potatoes in Peakslow's corner patch.

"Hullo!" Dud called out, so civilly that Rufe knew that something was wanted of him.

"Hullo yourself and see how you like it," Rufe retorted.

"Where's that fellow that owns the hoss?"

"How should I know?"

"He stopped to your house."

"That's so. But he's gone now."

"Where?"

"I don't know. He told us to keep his saddle and bridle and gun till he called for 'em, and went off. You'll hear from him before many days."

Rufe's tone was defiant; and the young potato-diggers, having, as they supposed, got the information they wanted, suffered their insolence to crop out.

"We ain't afraid of him nor you either," said Zeph, leaning on his hoe.

"Yes, you are afraid of me, too, you young blackguard! I'll tie you into a bow-knot and hang you on a tree, if I get hold of you."

"Le's see ye do it!"

Rufe answered haughtily: "You wouldn't stand there and sa.s.s me, if you didn't have Dud to back you. Just come over the fence once, and leave Dud on the other side; I'll pitch you into the middle of next week so quick you'll be dizzy the rest of your natural life." And he walked on up the road.

"Here! come back! I'll fight you! You're afraid!" Zeph yelled after him.

"I'll come round and 'tend to your case pretty soon," Rufe replied.

"I've something of more importance to look after just now; I've a pig to poke."

Dud went on digging potatoes; but Zeph presently threw down his hoe and ran to the house. Shortly after, he returned; and then Jack, who had sat down to rest in a commanding position, on the borders of the woodland, was pleased to see Peakslow lead Snowfoot down the slope from the barn, and turn him into the pasture.

Rufe got home some time before his brothers, who seemed to linger at the spring.

"There they are!" said Lill; "Link with the fork on his shoulder, and Wad bringing the pail."

Rufe was sitting on the grindstone frame, as they came into the yard.

"Did you hear me blackguard the Peakslow boys? They think Jack--Hullo!"

Rufe suddenly exclaimed. "I thought you was Wad!"

"I am, for the present," said Jack, laughing under Wad's hat. "Do you think Peakslow will know me ten rods off?"

"Not in that hat and coat! Lill and I both took you for Wad."

"I am all right, then! Where's your father? I wonder if he wouldn't like to try my gun."

Lord Betterson now came out of the house, fresh from his after-dinner nap, and looked a good deal of polite surprise at seeing Jack in Wad's hat and coat.

"Mr. Betterson," said Jack, "Peakslow thinks I have gone home, and he has turned Snowfoot out to gra.s.s. Now, if I _should_ wish to throw down a corner of the fence between his pasture and your buckwheat, have you any objection?"

"None whatever," replied my lord, with a flourish, as if giving Jack the freedom of his acres.

"And perhaps," said Jack, "you would like to go down to the buckwheat-lot with me and try my gun. I hear you are a crack shot."

"I can't boast much of my marksmanship nowadays; I could fetch down a bird once. Thank you,--I'll go with pleasure."

"You are not going to get into trouble, Jack?" said Vinnie, with lively concern, seeing him tie the halter to his back.

"O no! Mr. Betterson is going to give me a lesson in shooting on the wing. I'll take the bridle, so that if Snowfoot should happen to jump the fence when he sees me, I shall be ready for him, you know. Now I wonder if we can take Lion along without his being seen. He is tired of sitting still."

"We can take him to the farther side of the cornfield, easily enough."

"That will answer. Come, Lion!" The dog bounded with joy. "Keep right by my heels now, old fellow, and mind every word I say. Don't be anxious about us, Vinnie. And, Rufe, if you could manage to engage the Peakslow boys in conversation, about the time we are shooting hens pretty near the fence, you might help the sport."

"I'll follow you along, and branch off toward the potato-patch, and ask Zeph what he meant by offering to fight me," said Rufe.

"I'm going to get up on the cow-shed, and see the battle," said Link.

"On Linden when the sun was low, and the buckwheat-patch was all in blow,--I'm a poet, you know!"