now another sneer set it loose with sudden and startling result.

"Make me, my young moorcock? Two more words and I'll throw you across
the river!"

The two words were not forthcoming, but Will dropped his stick and shot
forward straight and strong as an angry dog. He closed before the
stranger could dispose of his rod, gripped him with a strong wrestling
hold, and cross-buttocked him heavily in the twinkling of an eye. The
big man happily fell without hurt upon soft sand at the river's brink;
but the indignity of this defeat roused his temper effectually. He
grinned nevertheless as he rose again, shook the sand off his face, and
licked his hands.

"Good Devon, sure enough, my son; now I'll teach _you_ something you
never heard tell of, and break your damned fool's neck for you into the
bargain!"

But Phoebe, who had wandered slowly on, returned quickly at the sound of
the scuffle and high words. Now she fluttered between the combatants and
rendered any further encounter for the time impossible. They could not
close again with the girl between them, and the stranger, his anger
holding its breath, glanced at her with sudden interest, stayed his
angry growl, suffered rage to wane out of his eyes and frank admiration
to appear in them.

"Doan't be fighting!" cried Phoebe. "Whatever's the mischief, Will? Do
bate your speed of hand! You've thrawed the gentleman down, seemin'ly."

"Wheer 's his ticket to then?"