Had a bomb exploded at Baxter's ear he would not have appeared more astonished.
"Say, who told you that?" he demanded fiercely and caught Tom by the arm.
"Let go of me, Dan Baxter."
"I say, who told you that?"
"I heard his name in the woods. He was with the man who robbed my brother Dick of his watch, when we were at home."
"Stuff and nonsense!" growled the bully, but he was very pale, and his voice shook with emotion. "That man's name is William Nolly. He used to know my father. That is why I helped him along by giving him an order for the histories. I don't really want the books."
"If you was helping him, how is it that Sam and I saw you taking a roll of bills from him down at the tavern?"
Again Baxter started. "You didn't see no such thing!" he roared, regardless of his grammar. "I—that is—he gave me some change, that is all. Here are the books I bought," and he pointed to a package he had been carrying.
"It's a made-up story," retorted Tom. "He gave you money, and my opinion is that that man is your father, and that he is no better than the man with whom he associates."
The words had scarcely left Tom's lips than Baxter leaped upon him—like an enraged animal and hurled him to the floor. "I've a good mind to—to kill you for that, Rover!" he hissed. "Take it back, or I'll choke you to death!" and his strong hand sought Tom's throat.