"It is so," Angus repeated. "Let me tell you something: I've given you the easy end right along, and you haven't held up even that. You've shirked and loafed every chance you've had. This has got to stop. And there will be no more of this coming in at all hours of night."
"I'll come in when I like and go where I like," Turkey declared defiantly, "and I'd like to see you stop me."
"You will see it," Angus told him grimly. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself. You've burnt up our stack—"
"You're a liar!" Turkey cried hotly. "Don't you tell me that again!"
"Tell you again!" Angus said contemptuously. "I'll not only tell you again, but for two pins I'd hand you something to make you remember it."
"Then fly at it!" Turkey cried, and struck him in the face.
For an instant Angus was so surprised that he did nothing at all. Then, taking another blow, he caught his brother by wrist and shoulder and slammed him back against the wall with a force which shook the frame building. He was white-hot with anger, and all that restrained him was fear—fear that if he once lost grip of himself he would go too far. As he held the boy pinned and helpless he fought his fight and won it. His grip relaxed and he stepped back.
"Don't ever do that again, Turkey," he said quietly.
Turkey, freed, stared at him. "I called you a liar and hit you twice."
"I know it," Angus returned impatiently. "And I could beat you to a froth, and you know it. I don't want to start—the way I'm feeling. That's all."