Mr. Hearty started back violently; stumbled against a large stone and sat down with a suddenness that caused his teeth to rattle.
"Off you go!" yelled the farmer, purple with rage. "Here Jim," he shouted; but Mr. Hearty waited for nothing more. Picking himself up, he fled blindly, he knew not whither. It sufficed him that it should be away from that muscular arm which was gripping a formidable-looking crop.
Bindle turned to follow, feeling that his own popularity had been submerged in the negative qualities of his wife and brother-in-law; but the farmer put out a restraining hand.
"Not you," he said, "you come up to the house. I can give you a mug of ale the like of which you haven't tasted for years. I'm all upset, I am," he added, as if to excuse his outburst. "I'm not forgettin' that it was you that came an' told me about Oscar. He might a-done a middlin' bit o' damage." Then, suddenly recollecting the cause of all the trouble, he added, "Dang that old Jim! It was them cows what did it. Shoot Oscar!"
CHAPTER X
THE COMING OF THE WHIRLWIND
I
"It's come, mate."
"Go away, we're not up yet," cried the voice of Mrs. Bindle from inside the tent.