“What’s that?” roared the farmer. “Don’t talk back to me! Be off with you, and bring it quick.”
Still the boy did not budge. Joel Carrow gazed at him in amazement, then made a rush and seized the youth by the arm.
“See here, what’s got into you this mornin’?” he snarled. “Ain’t you a-goin’ to obey me?”
“No, I’m not,” answered Bob, coolly and firmly.
“You ain’t?” gasped Joel Carrow, scarcely believing he had heard aright.
It was the first time that Bob had stood up for himself, and the mean, miserly farmer for whom he worked could not fully comprehend the turn of affairs.
“No, I am not,” repeated the youth. “Let go of my arm.”
“Oh, I’ll let go!” snarled Joel Carrow, in a rage. “Take that!” and with his disengaged hand he aimed a blow at Bob’s head. The youth ducked, and the fist of the farmer came in sharp and painful contact with a corner of the pig-sty he was repairing. With a howl of pain he let go his hold on the boy and placed his wounded hand to his mouth, and then swung it in the air. The youth lost no time in retreating several paces.
“I’ll fix you!” cried Joel Carrow. “You’re a good-for-nothin’ lazy whelp!”
“Thank you!” returned Bob, with increased coolness. “And you are the meanest man in the State.”