I may mark you for a second time."

Silas lifted his beechen stick. The laborers, roused to some rude sense
of the serious turn which the quarrel was taking, got between the two
men, and parted them. I had been hurriedly dressing myself while the
altercation was proceeding; and I now ran downstairs to try what my
influence could do toward keeping the peace at Morwick Farm.

The war of angry words was still going on when I joined the men
outside.

"Be off with you on your business, you cowardly hound!" I heard Silas
say. "Be off with you to the town! and take care you don't meet Ambrose
on the way!"

"Take _you_ care you don't feel my knife again before I go!" cried the
other man.

Silas made a desperate effort to break away from the laborers who were
holding him.

"Last time you only felt my fist!" he shouted "Next time you shall feel
_this!_"

He lifted the stick as he spoke. I stepped up and snatched it out of
his hand.

"Mr. Silas," I said, "I am an invalid, and I am going out for a walk.
Your stick will be useful to me. I beg leave to borrow it."