"Whoop! Hold me on the ground, somebody!" yelled Dan, striking up his war dance. "Then how'll mam get the things she wants?"
"On a written order, and in no other way."
"Who'll give that there order?"
"Mr. Warren, whom I shall ask to act as my banker. I've got to do something to keep you from bothering the life out of mother, and that is what I have decided upon."
"Whoop!" shouted Dan again. "Pap won't agree to no such bargain as that there, I bet you, and neither will I."
"What has father got to say about my business?"
"He's got a good deal to say about it, the first thing you know," answered Dan, with a triumphant air.
His only object in hastening on to overtake his brother was that he might torment him by calling his attention to a point of law that Joe had never thought of before.
"You ain't twenty-one year old yet, my fine feller, and pap's got the right to make you hand over every red cent you earn. He told me so; and he furder said that he was going to take the last dollar of them hundred and twenty that you are going to make this winter. So there, now. I told you that there was them in the world that's just as smart as you think you be, and me and pap are the fellers. He's a mighty hard old chap to get the better of, pap is, and so be I. You can't do it nohow you fix it."