"If anybody lacks sense it is you," retorted Hiram quickly. "If you had killed me I'd only have been dead. But you would have had to pay the penalty."
"You are on my land—"
"Don't begin that old foolishness," commanded Hiram.
He seized the man's arm and led him toward a log at the edge of the wood. Battick was actually shaking and he stared at Hiram in a way that troubled the latter considerably. Could it be that this strange individual was really insane?
"Sit down here," said the youth, and took a seat beside him on the log. "Now for goodness sake, tell me what the matter is with you. I know you have bred a new wheat. I saw the grain at your house. I suppose this is a field of it. Why act like a madman about it? I can't steal these plants and so breed the wheat in competition."
Battick looked at him solemnly. "You don't know what I have been through, Mr. Strong," he said.
"I can see you are carrying on a regular guerrilla warfare against your neighbors, Mr. Battick. But I cannot imagine why."
"They have hounded me—robbed me!" exclaimed Battick excitedly.
"Who have?"
"People you don't know, perhaps. And perhaps you do! I can never be sure that their agents are not around here. You may be one of them, Mr. Strong."