"I didn't strike first," said John, "and I shan't strike again, unless I am obliged to in self-defence."
"Give me that whip!" screamed Ben, livid with passion.
"You can't have it."
"I'll tell my mother."
"Go and do it if you like," said John, a little contemptuously.
"Let go that horse."
"It's my own, and I mean to keep it."
"It is not yours. My mother gave it to me."
"It wasn't hers to give."
John still retained his hold of the saddle, and kept Ben at bay with one hand. He watched his opportunity until Ben had retreated sufficiently far to make it practicable, then, placing his foot in the stirrup, lightly vaulted upon the horse, and, touching him with the whip, he dashed out of the yard. Ben sprang forward to stop him; but he was too late.