Cameron flushed a deep red, then turned pale, but kept silent.
“I believe you, my boy,” said Mack with emphasis and facing sharply upon Perkins, “and if ever I do a big throw I will owe it to you.”
“Oh, come off!” said Perkins, again laughing scornfully. “There are others that know the swing besides Scotty here. What you have got you owe to no one but yourself, Mack.”
“If I beat the man McGee next week,” said Mack quietly, “it will be from what I learned to-night, and I know what I am saying. Man! it's a lucky thing we found you. But that will do for just now. Come along to the barn. Hooray for the pipes and the lassies! They are worth all the hammers in the world!” And, putting his arm through Cameron's, he led the way to the barn, followed by the others.
“If Scotty could only hoe turnips and tie wheat as well as he can play the pipes and throw the hammer,” said Perkins to the others as they followed in the rear, “I guess he'd soon have us all leaning against the fence to dry.”
“He will, too, some day,” said Tim, whose indignation at Perkins overcame the shyness which usually kept him silent in the presence of older men.
“Hello, Timmy! What are you chipping in for?” said Perkins, reaching for the boy's coat collar. “He thinks this Scotty is the whole works, and he is great too—at showing people how to do things.”
“I hear he showed Tim how to hoe turnips,” said one of the boys slyly. The laugh that followed showed that the story of Tim's triumph over the champion had gone abroad.
“Oh, rot!” said Perkins angrily. “Tim's got a little too perky because I let him get ahead of me one night in a drill of turnips.”
“Yeh done yer best, didn't he, Webster?” cried Tim with indignation.