"Yes, sir. That's the calculation."
"Well, I guess I'll have somethin' t' say about that," nodding his head violently.
"I rather expected y' would. Blaze away. Your privilege—my bad luck. Sail in, ol' man. What's y'r objection to me fer a son-in-law?"
"Don't you worry, young feller. I'll come at it soon enough," went on Bacon, as he turned up another burr in a very awkward corner. In his nervous excitement the wrench slipped, banging his knuckle.
"Ouch! Thunder—m-m-m!" howled and snarled the wounded man.
"What's the matter? Bark y'r knuckle?" queried Lime, feeling a mighty impulse to laugh. But when he saw the old savage straighten up and glare at him he sobered. Bacon was now in a frightful temper. The veins in his great, bare, weather-beaten neck swelled dangerously.
"Jest let me say right here that I've had enough o' you. You can't live on the same acre with my girl another day."
"What makes ye think I can't?" It was now the young man's turn to draw himself up, and as he faced the old man, his arms folded and each vast hand grasping an elbow, he looked like a statue of red granite, and the hands resembled the paws of a crouching lion; but his eyes smiled.
"I don't think, I know ye won't."
"What's the objection to me?"