"Oh, nothing at all, nothing at all," the old gentleman hastily added, as though Tom had asked why he wanted to know.
"Well, how about our proposition?" Brent inquired.
"It's wu'th three hund'ed a acre," he grumbled.
"One-fifty is our price, Tom. Think it over before we change our minds!"
"Aw, hell," he sneered, "you can't bluff me!"
"Get off of my place, you drunken scoundrel!" the Colonel, towering with rage, sprang up reaching for his cane.
But Tom, panic stricken, had turned and fled.
Sighing, the old gentleman dropped back into his chair.
"Let me see—where are we!" he said, looking closely at the board. "You'd moved your Queen to her Bishop's second, hadn't you? Ah, yes! Then my Bishop takes your Bishop's pawn, and checks. Now, sir, watch out! I'm coming after you in good earnest!"
As it happened no one intruded upon the drive to church. When four o'clock came around Bip had taken Mac down on the creek with Bob and Mesmie, to hunt under the stones for crawfish.