"Say that agin and I'll knock you over!"
Rob was not to be dared or to be bullied into silence. He stood his ground manfully.
"I say that my uncle is no coward, whether he gets a substitute or not!"
The fellow squared off. It was Kit Kent, as he was commonly called, a blacksmith of notoriously unsteady habits.
"None of that!" and a form was interposed between Bob and his assailant. "Hit a fellow of your size, Kent, not a boy like that."
"Let the youngster hold his tongue then! Much he knows!"
Rob did not stir, but his lips turned blue and almost cold with the pressure. If he had been a little larger, it seemed to him that he could not have let Kent alone.
"There's a chance for you to make some money," exclaimed a voice in the crowd. "Six or seven hundred dollars, and you're grumbling about being out of work! It's a golden opportunity, and you'll never find another like it."
That turned the laugh upon Kent. Rob walked off presently. Turning into a quiet street, he nearly ran over two men who stood talking.
"The trouble is that you can hardly find a substitute. Most of the able-bodied men who will go have enlisted or been drafted. The look is mighty poor!"