"It's king work; it isn't democracy," Harry answered. "We've got to put an end to it."
"Say, who's that?" Brimstead asked, as he pointed to a pair of horsemen hurrying down the distant road.
"It's Biggs and his servant," Harry answered.
"Whew! They ain't lettin' the grass grow under their feet. They'll kill them horses."
"Biggs is a born killer. I'd like to give him one more licking."
In a moment they saw another horseman a quarter of a mile behind the others and riding fast.
"Ha, ha! That explains their haste," said Brimstead. "It's ol' Free Collar on his sorrel mare. Say, I'll tell ye," Brimstead came close to Harry and added in a low tone: "If Biggs tries any fightin' business with Collar he'll git killed sure. That man loves excitement. He don't take no nonsense at all, and he can put a bullet into a gimlet hole at ten rods."
They had their swim in the creek and got back to the house at dinner time. Samson had returned and, as they sat down at the table, he told what had happened at the Constable's house and learned of the passing of Biggs and his friend in the road, followed by Collar on his sorrel mare.
"We must hurry back, but we will have to give the horses a rest," said Samson.
"And the young people a chance to play checkers?" said Mrs. Brimstead.