"Scat! ye little rat!" snapped Marm, and made a swing at him—or so he thought—that made Joe dance back in sudden fright.
"Hey! take her off, Lem Parraday! The woman's mad!"
"You bet I'm mad!" rejoined Marm Parraday, grimly, and smash! the axe went among the bottles on the shelf behind the bar. Every bottle containing anything to drink was a target for the swinging axe. Joe jumped the bar, yelling wildly. He was the first out of the barroom, but most of the customers were close at his heels.
"Marm! Yeou air ruinin' of us!" yelled Lem.
"I'm a-savin' of us from the wrath to come!" returned the woman, sternly, and swung her axe again.
The spigot flew from the whiskey barrel in the corner and the next blow of the axe knocked in the head of the barrel. The acrid smell of liquor filled the place.
Not a bottle of liquor was left. The barroom of the Lake View Inn promised to be the driest place in town.
Up went the axe again. Lem yelled loud enough to be heard a block:
"Not that barrel, Marm! For the good Land o' Goshen! don't bust in that barrel."
"Why not?" demanded his breathless wife, the axe poised for the stroke.