Linton did not speak. He raised his eyebrows; it was unspoken comment on the peculiar actions of this young savage from the woods.
"Presson, get out of here and bring help," muttered the Duke. "Hell is going to break loose!"
The chairman slipped the document into his pocket and tiptoed around the side of the room. Harlan paid no attention to him. His eyes were for Linton.
"Are you going to apologize?"
"I'll wait until—" began the lawyer, but he got no further.
The Thornton temper had been strained beyond the breaking-point. Harlan was upon him.
"Bring a dozen!" yelled the Duke after the chairman who had been tugging at the door, and now escaped.
Linton was tall and muscular, but law-practice is not lumbering. He struck viciously at Harlan, ducking to and fro with the briskness of the trained boxer. But the woodsman merely leaped upon him, heedless of his blows. He bore him down. He drove resistless knees into his shoulders. He thrust Linton's face against the floor and ground it against the boards. Then he dragged the limp figure past the cursing Duke toward the girl. She had fled to a corner, covering her eyes and sobbing in terror.
"D—n you, you'll apologize to the girl who's going to be my wife," raved Harlan.
When Presson returned at the head of volunteers the victor was grinding the bleeding face on the floor once more and Linton was screaming appeals.