“Maybe he’s got a lot o’ money, too.”
The rascals began to go through Matt’s pockets, and he called Jeff made a movement toward relieving the boy of his watch and chain.
The timepiece had once belonged to Mr. Lincoln, and to the young auctioneer it was a valuable heirloom. The thought that he was to be deprived of it angered him more than did anything else, and he began to kick out hotly right and left.
The negroes were not prepared for this, and before they could guard against it, one received a severe blow in the chin, and the other had the toe of Matt’s shoe nearly knock out his eye. They both gave sharp cries of pain and fell back, and taking advantage of this Matt leaped to his feet.
“Open that!” he commanded, to the third negro, who stood with his back against the door. “Open that before I make it warm for you also!”
But the colored man would not budge, and Matt was compelled to attack him in his fight for freedom.
The young auctioneer was thoroughly aroused, and now showed what muscle he had gained during his free-and-easy life on the road. He attacked the 233 man without hesitation, and forcing him aside, compelled him to keep away from the door by blows and kicks delivered with surprising rapidity.
The man had, at the last moment, taken the key from the lock and thrown it in the far corner of the room. Not waiting to recover this, Matt began to hammer at the door, and gathering himself together, threw his whole weight against it.
As has been said, the door was a rickety one, and it went down with a crash, tumbling the young auctioneer upon his face just outside the cottage.
“Hullo! what on earth does this mean?” cried a voice close by, and Andy rushed up, a look of blank astonishment plainly depicted upon his face.