"Well, all the knowledge you'll worm out of me you may put in your eye, for you won't get any."
"I don't expect, or even desire to, after what has passed between us; but, as I have given you full opportunity to free your mind, and express your opinion of me, any more talk of that kind before my face or behind my back will be at your own risk. I suppose you understand me."
Drew hung his head, and made no reply; for, though a patient and good-natured man, William Richardson was by no means a safe person to provoke.
It was now the dinner hour, and as Richardson left the shop he was followed by Breslaw, who said,—
"Mr. Richardson, where are you going?"
"First, Tom, to your father's, with this bark. He is tanning a couple of hides for me, and told me he would take part of his pay in bark. I was going to buy some iron and steel at the store; but I shall have to give that up; for, as Drew won't shoe my cattle, I shan't be able to haul one pound more than my grist."
"He's a mean wretch, and I don't see how you kept your hands off him. But he's been drinking; that's part of it. Give me your shoes. I'll run into Aunt Sarah's, and get my dinner; it won't take me so long as to go home; and before Drew gets back I'll fit the shoes and make the nails, and this evening we will put them on. Most of the shoes have been on the cattle before. I'll fit the others by them, and if there's any of them too far gone to sharpen, I'll make new ones."
"But where will you get iron? Shan't I run to the store and get some?"
"I keep a little of my own, and do small jobs out of shop time. Any little scraps will do for that."
Richardson hauled his bark to the tan-yard, and Breslaw's father invited him to stop to dinner. As he was passing Drew's shop on his return, Tom came out.