"What do you mean?" John sternly asked. "What have I done to you?"
"You stole her from me," and Eben motioned to the girl.
"Oh, I see," and John laughed. "Come, Jess, we had better go home.
Eben is jealous, and I don't want to fight a duel here."
Like a flash the maddened youth stooped, seized a stick lying near, and hurled a savage blow at John's head. Quick as lightning the latter dodged, and although he managed to escape the full force of the blow, one end of the stick grazed his forehead, inflicting a long gash. It staggered him for an instant, but recovering, he leaped toward his assailant. With a gurgling cry of baffled defeat, Eben turned and fled down the path, along the shore, and disappeared amid the trees.
Blood was now flowing from the wound in John's forehead as he stood and stared in the direction Eben had gone. Then he turned to his companion.
"This explains something which has been puzzling me," he began. "I know now who threw the stone which hit you on the head. It was intended for me, but it struck you instead."
"Oh, do you think so?" the girl asked. "I am greatly surprised at
Eben. I had no idea he would do such a thing."
"H'm, one need never be surprised at anything he does. He's always been a mystery to me, and to everybody else, I guess."
Drawing forth his handkerchief, he wiped the blood from his forehead.
This action aroused Jess.
"Forgive me," she pleaded, "I should have been caring for you instead of standing here doing nothing. Come down to the river, and let me bathe your wound. Does it pain you much?"