“You were able to bluff a boy, perhaps, but you can’t bluff Matt Jackson,” returned the lumberman. “You know who I am now. I bought out Dan Wilson. Here’s Mr. Gillespie from Ormond, who’s a magistrate and knows all about it.”
By this time Harrison’s men had come crowding up, curious and hostile. But several of them recognized Mr. Jackson, and all of them knew Gillespie, who greeted two or three of them by name.
“Yes, that’s right,” said the postmaster. “Mr. Jackson bought out Dan Wilson when he failed, and so far as I know this timber was in the deal.”
“Then you don’t know much!” persisted Harrison, furiously. “I’ll fight to the last court for it.”
“Take it to the courts if you want to,” said Mr. Jackson. “You’ll face a warrant for murderous assault on my son, and another for forgery—”
Harrison sprang savagely forward, raising his clenched fist. Tom jumped to protect his father, caught the half-directed blow on his elbow, and drove his fist into Harrison’s face. The next instant he went down himself from a savage uppercut, and heard the rush of a sudden scrimmage. Joe Lynch had grappled with Harrison, and while the two wrestled frantically there was a rush of men from both sides to the spot.
“Stop it! Let him go, Lynch. Here, you young savage, drop that gun!” Mr. Jackson shouted; and Tom struggled to his feet to see the postmaster wrenching the shot-gun out of Charlie’s hands. Harrison went down, with Big Joe on top of him; but Archer and Gillespie dragged the men apart.
Tom caught the half-directed blow
Lynch arose laughing. A moment later Harrison gathered himself up sullenly.