"Every man has his own way o' lookin' at the right," said Peakslow, slightly mollified. "The right, to your notion, is that I shall give ye up the hoss. I've got possession of the hoss, and I mean to keep possession; and that's what's about right, to my notion."
"I want only what is lawfully my own," Jack answered, firmly. "If you want what isn't yours, that's not right, but wrong. There's such a thing as justice, aside from our personal interest in a matter."
Probably Peakslow had never thought of that.
"Wal, what ye goin' to do about it?" he asked.
"I am going to have my horse," replied Jack. "If you let me take him peaceably, very well. If you compel me to go to law, I shall have him all the same, and you will have the costs to pay."
Peakslow winced. The threat of costs touched him in his tenderest spot.
"How's that?" he anxiously asked.
"I haven't been about the country looking for my horse, without knowing something of the law for the recovery of stolen property," replied Jack. "If I find him in your hands, and you give him up, I've no action against you. If you hold on to him, I can do one of two things. I can go to a magistrate, and by giving bonds to an amount that will cover all damages to you or anybody else if I fail to make good my claim, get out a writ of replevin, and send a sheriff with it to take the horse. Or I can let you keep him, and sue you for damages. In either case, the one who is beaten will have the costs to pay," Jack insisted, turning the screw again where he saw it pinch.
The swarthy brow was covered with perspiration, as Peakslow answered, making a show of bluster,—
"I can fight ye with the law, or any other way, 's long's you want to fight. I've got money. Ye can't scare me with your sheriffs and writs. But jest look at it. I'm to be throwed out of a hoss at a busy time o' year. You wouldn't like that, Mr. Wiggett—you nor nobody else."