“Come, now, you move out, or I’ll have the law on you.”
“The law!” roared Bartlett; “you just try it on.”
“Should think you’d had enough of it by this time.”
“Oh, don’t, don’t, Henry!” protested the girl in distress.
“There aint no law,” yelled Bartlett, “that kin make a man with a load move out fur anything.”
“You haven’t any load, unless it’s in that jug.”
Yates saw with consternation that the jar had been jolted out from under its covering, but the happy consolation came to him that the two in the buggy would believe it belonged to Bartlett. He thought, however, that this dog-in-the-manger policy had gone far enough. He stepped briskly forward, and said to Bartlett:
“Better drive aside a little, and let them pass.”
“You ‘tend to your own business,” cried the thoroughly enraged farmer.
“I will,” said Yates shortly, striding to the horses’ heads. He took them by the bits and, in spite of Bartlett’s maledictions and pulling at the lines, he drew them to one side, so that the buggy got by.