Like a cat Perkins was on his feet and, without a single moment's pause, came on again in silent fury. By an evil chance there lay in his path the splitting axe, gleaming in the moonlight. Uttering a low choking cry, as of joy, he seized the axe and sprang towards his foe. Quicker than thought Cameron picked up a heavy arm chair that stood near the porch to use it as a shield against the impending attack.
“Are you mad, Perkins?” he cried, catching the terrific blow that came crashing down, upon the chair.
Then, filled with indignant rage at the murderous attack upon him, and suddenly comprehending the desperate nature of the situation, he sprang at his antagonist, thrusting the remnants of the chair in his face and, following hard and fast upon him, pushed him backward and still backward till, tripping once more, he fell supine among the pots and pans. Seizing the axe that had dropped from his enemy's hand, Cameron hurled it far beyond the wood pile and then stood waiting, a cold and deadly rage possessing him.
“Come on, you dog!” he said through his shut teeth. “You have been needing this for some time and now you'll get it.”
“What is it, Joe?”
Cameron quickly turned and saw behind him Mandy, her face blanched, her eyes wide, and her voice faint with terror.
“Oh, nothing much,” said Cameron, struggling to recover himself. “Perkins stumbled over the tub among the pots and pans there. He made a great row, too,” he continued with a laugh, striving to get his voice under control.
“What is it, Joe?” repeated Mandy, approaching Perkins. But Perkins stood leaning against the corner of the porch in a kind of dazed silence.
“You've been fighting,” she said, turning upon Cameron.
“Not at all,” said Cameron lightly, “but, if you must know, Perkins went stumbling among these pots and pans and finally sat down in the tub; and naturally he is mad.”