James Barclay’s reply was to rise from his seat, and stride over to where his father was sitting on the bed. He seized the old man roughly by the shoulder, and made a motion to search the pocket containing the gold pieces.
“Give it up peaceably or I’ll hurt you!” he said.
Jerry uttered a shrill cry, and tried to make a feeble opposition, but he was like a child in the hands of the burly ruffian.
“Stop your whimpering!” said James, fiercely. “That gold I mean to have, and you’d best give it up.”
Jerry again uttered a cry, which was heard by Mrs. Hogan, an opposite neighbor, who, opening the door, saw, unnoticed by either, the uneven struggle between Jerry and his assailant.
Mrs. Hogan was a brave woman. She dashed back into her own room, and returned in an instant with a dipper of hot water. Armed with this she was prepared for hostilities.
“Let the old man alone, you thafe of the worruld!” she exclaimed, indignantly.
James Barclay turned, and, seeing that it was a woman, replied scornfully, “Get out of here, woman, or it’ll be the worse for you!”