"Stand back!" shouted Botts, grasping a chair, and elevating it over his head,—"stand back, or I will knock you down!"
"Botts! Botts!" exclaimed Wiggins, lifting up both hands in violent agitation, being utterly astounded at this hostile demonstration on the part of his principal,—"Botts! Botts! I—I—said—broad-axes!"
"Help! help! murder! murder!" shouted Botts; and he aimed a blow at Wiggins, who dodged it, and, tumbling over a table, fell sprawling on the carpet, while the chair flew from Botts's hands and went with a crash against the door. In an instant there was a rush of people from the adjoining apartments and the room was filled with spectators.
"Good heavens!" exclaimed M. T. Pate, addressing himself to Botts, who had armed himself with another chair, and stood brandishing it in a corner of the room with an air of desperate determination,—"good heavens! Mr. Botts, what does this mean?"
"Gentlemen, such scenes cannot be allowed in my house," said the landlord. "Mr. Botts, this is the second time you have raised an uproar in this establishment."
"Botts, you shall answer for this outrage!" exclaimed Wiggins, rising on his feet and looking Botts in the face with a most truculent aspect.
"Are you not crazy?" said Botts.
"Crazy!" vociferated Wiggins, advancing towards Botts, who dodged behind Pate. "You are crazy, sir! You are as mad as a March hare, sir! You are a dangerous man! I will have you in a lunatic asylum before you are a day older, sir! Gentlemen, I call upon you to assist me in securing this madman."
"By Jupiter! I think you are both lunatics," said the landlord.