“I donno who in sanup it can be,” repeated Brickett.
“With fifty men huntin’ for Judge Coll Willard and them two young ones, that old man wand’rin’ somewheres out his senses, you ain’t got brains enough to guess who it is in that dory?” fairly screamed Hiram. “It’s blastnation lucky for you, Ase Brickett, that a man don’t need to do any thinkin’ to run his lungs, or you’d die for lack of air.”
“I say I’ve got bus’ness——” recommenced Bodfish.
“Yes, and I’ve got bus’ness with you!” barked Hiram, rushing at him so furiously that Bodfish staggered back. “This is the bus’ness: You come with me as fast as your legs will take you and start that old garsoline plunker of your’n. Hiper!”
“Not on your life! Not for you!” roared Bodfish. “I’ll fight you to a standstill first!”
Hiram did not waste words with the man. He drove both his broad hands against his breast, rushed him backward to the store wall and choked him until his tongue lolled.
“Will ye? Will ye go?” he kept saying.
But each time he loosened his grip the skipper only cursed or cried for help. He was struggling madly all the time, but Hiram’s strength and passion were too much for him.
“I don’t b’lieve in abusin’ no man,” observed Brickett from his door. “I reckon you’d better let that man go, Hime Look. You can’t sass and browbeat and bang round ev’ry one in this place.”
“You fools,” panted Hiram, “Judge Willard and those children are in that dory. There is no one else who would try to go out of this place into that storm. It’s Judge Willard, I tell you! You are goin’ to take me out, Nymp’ Bodfish, if I have to tear you apart and lug you down to your packet in pound packages. I’ll kill the man that interferes. Will you go, I say?”