“He don’t scare worth a cent,” thought Ben. Aloud he said:—
“So you’re goin’ to fight us, be you?”
“Till I die,” answered Bayard solemnly; “and if I die!”
“You won’t take no warnin’ then?” asked Ben with a puzzled air.
“Neither from you, Ben, nor from any other man.”
“The worse for you, then!” returned Ben in an ugly tone.
“I’ll risk it,” replied Bayard serenely.
“There’s them that says you’re goin’ to fight it out at the polls,” said Ben, more sullenly now than savagely. “Folks says you’re goin’ to get away Father’s license.”
“I hadn’t thought of it till this minute!” exclaimed the preacher. “But it would be a good idea.”
Ben made an inarticulate noise in his throat. Bayard instinctively thrust out his elbow; he thought for the moment that Ben would spring upon him out of sheer rage. They were out on the open downs, now; but still only the witness of the sky and sea and rocks remained to help him.