But Bill Prescott now held the advantage. He was younger, and more fleet of foot; so therefore out ran Jack, who was left before he reached the gate, far to the rear, and Bill gained his side of the wide road with a safe lead. Jack finally came to a stop before getting off the premises with his blood boiling with such heat that he drew his hat off and beat himself with it. In the meantime, Agnes, who had witnessed the controversy from the gate, ventured out to where her father stood and taking him gently by the arm, she led him inside.
"My blood's up, my blood's up!" Jack kept crying and repeating. "That stinkin', triflin' peace a nothin', has been gittin' smart. Tryin' to low rate me; tryin' to low rate my girl. Insultin' Jean Baptiste! Dang him, dang him!"
"Father, father!" cried Agnes soothingly.
"Did you hear'm! Did you hear'm! Why, the low down, good for nothin', I'm a good mind to go cross the road and skin him alive!"
"Father, father!" begged Agnes.
"Did you hear what he said," insisted the infuriated senior.
"Yes, father," she confessed. "I heard him."
"You did! 'N that's worse!" Whereupon he tore loose and threw up his arms in an angered gesture.
"Now, papa," Agnes argued kindly. "I heard him, and what he said to you. He was in here and insul—spoke to me before he went out there.... I understand all about it.... So you must simply be calm—and forget it. That's all...."
"I don't care so much for myself, but that he should speak about you and Baptiste! I just wish Baptiste could have heard him and just beat the gosh danged manure right out of him."