“Then you don't go,” and Bob tightened his grip.
The next moment a hand clutched his coat collar and he was thrown violently on his back.
Bob, who was agile, was quickly on his feet again and faced his assailant. “Oh, that's you, Sawyer, is it? Why do you interfere with what's none of your business?”
“I think it is,” said Quincy, calmly. “My, friend and I—” He turned, and at that moment Tom emerged from behind a clump of bushes at the roadside.
“My friend and I,” Quincy repeated, “were behind those bushes and overheard your insulting language to this young lady and your brutal treatment of her.”
“Hiding to see what you could hear,” said Bob, sneeringly.
“Not at all. We came 'cross lots and were just stepping into the road when we espied you, and retreated, awaiting your departure.”
“Very prettily said, Master Sawyer, but I don't believe a word of it.”
“You called this young lady a liar and she was powerless to resent it, but I'm not. Tom, hold my coat.”
“Oh, please don't fight,” pleaded Mary. “I'll never speak to him again.”