“Can’t hit talk?” continued Gibbs with mock interest.
Glancing at her frightened escort, the girl replied, “You drive on, Wash Gibbs. You’re in no condition to talk to anyone.”
An ugly leer came over the brutal face of the giant; “Oh, I ain’t, ain’t I? You think I’m drunk. But I ain’t, not so mighty much. Jest enough t’ perten me up a pepper grain.” Then, turning to his companion, who was grinning in appreciation of the scene, he continued, “Here, Bill; you hold th’ ribbens, an’ watch me tend t’ that little job I told you I laid out t’ do first chance I got.” At this, Ollie grew as pale as death. Once he started as if to escape, but he could not under Sammy’s eyes.
As Wash was climbing down from the wagon, he caught sight of Young Matt standing in the door of the mill shed. “Hello, Matt,” he called cheerfully; “I ain’t a lookin’ fer you t’ day; ’tend t’ you some other time. Got more important business jest now.”
Young Matt made no reply, nor did he move to interfere. In the backwoods every man must fight his own battles, so long as he fights with men. When Stewart was in danger from the panther, it was different. This was man to man. Sammy, too, reared in the mountains, and knowing the code, waited quietly to see what her lover would do.
Coming to Ollie’s side, Gibbs said, “Git down, young feller, an’ look at yer saddle.”
“You go on, and let me alone, Wash Gibbs. I’ve never hurt you.” Ollie’s naturally high pitched voice was shrill with fear.
Wash paused, looked back at his companion in the wagon; then to Young Matt, and then to the girl on the horse. “That’s right,” he said, shaking his head with ponderous gravity. “You all hear him. He ain’t never hurted me, nary a bit. Nary a bit, ladies an’ gentlemen. But, good Lord! look at him! Hain’t hit awful!” Suddenly he reached out one great arm, and jerked the young man from his horse, catching him with the other hand as he fell, and setting him on his feet in the middle of the road.
Ollie was like a child in the grasp of his huge tormentor, and, in spite of her indignation, a look of admiration flashed over Sammy’s face at the exhibition of the bully’s wonderful physical strength; an admiration, that only heightened the feeling of shame for her lover’s weakness.
Gibbs addressed his victim, “Now, dolly, you an’ me’s goin’ t’ play a little. Come on, let’s see you dance.” The other struggled feebly a moment and attempted to draw a pistol, whereupon Wash promptly captured the weapon, remarking in a sad tone as he did so, “You hadn’t ought t’ tote such a gun as that, sonny; hit might go off. Hit’s a right pretty little thing, ain’t hit?” he continued, holding his victim with one hand, and examining the pearl handled, nickel plated weapon with great interest. “Hit sure is. But say, dolly, if you was ever t’ shoot me with that there, an’ I found hit out, I’d sure be powerful mad. You hear me, now, an’ don’t you pack that gun no more; not in these mountains. Hit ain’t safe.”