"You ought to be ashamed of yourself, you brute!" exclaimed Bob.

"Do you want me to thrash you, too?" snarled Wolverton, angrily.

"You can try, if you want to," returned Bob, contemptuously.

"Sam, what was he going to whip you for?" asked Bob, turning to his unfortunate friend.

"I'll answer that question," said Wolverton, "though it's no concern of yours. The boy has been robbing me."

"What have you to say, Sam?"

"It's not true."

"What do you charge him with taking, Mr. Wolverton?"

"A dollar."

"It's the one your mother gave me, Bob."

"To be sure! I saw her give it to you myself."

"He lies, and you swear to it," said Wolverton, with a sneer.

"Mr. Wolverton, you have brought a false charge against your nephew, and you know it. If you don't care to take his word or mine, you can come over to our house and ask my mother whether Sam's story is true."

"It doesn't matter whether it's true or false," said Wolverton, doggedly. "Sam is under my charge, and I have a right to any money he comes by."

"I always knew you were mean," said Bob, contemptuously, "but this is ahead of anything I ever imagined. Do you still accuse Sam of robbing you?"

"I don't know whether he did or not."

"You can easily satisfy yourself by calling on my mother."

"I mean to call on your mother, but it won't be on this business," said Wolverton, opening his mouth and showing the yellow fangs which served for teeth.

"You are at liberty to call on any business errand," said Bob.

"Indeed, you are very kind, remarkably kind, considering that the ranch is as much mine as your mother's."

"How do you make that out?"

"I have a mortgage on it for half its value."

"I deny it. The ranch is worth much more than six thousand dollars. Besides, the time has not yet come when you have the right to foreclose."

"There you are wrong, young man! As the interest has not been promptly paid, I can foreclose at any time."

"You will have to see my mother about that," said Bob, carefully concealing the fact that the receipt had been recovered.

"I thought you would change your tune," said Wolverton, judging from Bob's calmer tone that he was getting alarmed.

Bob smiled, for he felt that he had the advantage, and foresaw Wolverton's discomfiture when the receipt was shown him.

"I am not quite so excited as I was," he admitted. "When I saw you with the whip uplifted I was ready for anything."

"Give me back the whip!" said Wolverton, menacingly.

"Will you promise not to use it on Sam?"

"I'll promise nothing, you young whipper-snapper! What business have you to interfere between me and my nephew?"

"The right of ordinary humanity."

"Give me the whip."

"Then make me the promise?"

"I won't."

"Then I propose to keep it."

"I will have you arrested for theft."

"Do so. I will explain matters to Judge Turner."

Judge Turner, the magistrate before whom such cases came, heartily despised and hated Aaron Wolverton, as the latter knew full well. He would certainly dismiss any charge brought against Bob by such a man. This consideration naturally influenced him.

"Very well," he said, though with an ill grace, "if your mother gave Sam the money, I retract the charge of theft. Nevertheless, as his guardian, I demand that the dollar be given to me."

"Give it to me to keep for you, Sam," said Bob.

Sam gladly took it from his pocket, and threw it towards Bob, who dexterously caught it.

"Now, Mr. Wolverton," said Bob, quietly; "you will have to demand the money from me; Sam hasn't got it."

"You'll have to pay for your impudence, Robert Burton!" said Wolverton, wrathfully. "You forget that you are all in my power."

"You may find yourself mistaken, Mr. Wolverton," said Bob. "At any rate, I don't think I shall lose any sleep on that score."

"You can tell your mother I shall call this evening," continued Wolverton. "I expect her to be ready with the interest, which is long overdue."

"I will give her your message, Mr. Wolverton. Now, Clip, let us go on. Mr. Wolverton will excuse us, I know, when I tell him that we have an errand in the village."

"Yah, yah!" laughed Clip, gleefully; not that there was anything particular to laugh at, but because it took very little to excite Clip's risibilities.

Mr. Wolverton turned upon Clip with a frown. He had not forgotten the trick Clip played upon him when he was upset in the river, and he would have liked nothing better than to flog him till he roared for mercy.

"What is that black ape grinning about?" he demanded.

Clip ought to have felt insulted, but he was only amused.

"Yah, yah!" he laughed again.

Aaron Wolverton made a dash at him with his recovered whip, but Clip nimbly jumped to one side and laughed again.

"Didn't do it dat time, Massa Wolverton," said Clip, showing his teeth.

"I'll get even with you yet, you black monkey!"

If Clip had been alone, Wolverton would have proceeded then and there to carry out his threat. But he had a wholesome respect for Bob, whose physical strength and prowess he well knew. It made him angry whenever he thought of this boy, who seemed born to be a thorn in his side. He was stronger than Wolverton, though the land agent was a man grown, and it was humiliating to Wolverton to be obliged to admit this fact.

But he had one consolation in the mortgage he held upon the Burton ranch. Here the law was on his side, and he saw his way clear to annoy and injure Bob and his family, without running any risk himself. As for the chance of the mortgage ever being paid off, that he thought extremely small. If Richard Burton were still alive, he would have been right, but Bob, young as he was, bade fair to be a better manager than his father. He was not so sanguine, or, if the truth must be told, so reckless in his expenditures. Besides, he knew, though his father was ignorant of it, that Wolverton, for some reason which he could not penetrate, was a bitter enemy of the family, and that his forbearance could not be depended upon.

When Bob and Clip had left the scene Aaron Wolverton turned to Sam, and scowled at his unfortunate nephew, in a way which was by no means pleasant or reassuring.

"I've a good mind to flog you for all the trouble you've brought upon me," he said.

"I don't see what I've done, uncle."

"You don't, hey? Haven't you sided with that upstart, the Burton boy?"

Sam was judiciously silent, for he saw his uncle was very much irritated.

"Why did you give that dollar to him?"

"He told me to."

"Suppose he did; is he your guardian or am I?"

"You are, Uncle Aaron."

"I'm glad you are willing to admit it. Then why did you give him the dollar?"

"Because his mother gave it to me. If you had given it to me, I wouldn't have done it."

"You'll have to wait a good while before I give you a dollar."

Sam was of the same opinion himself, but did not think it wise to say so.

"You deserve to be punished for what you have done," said his uncle, severely.

"I wish I were as strong and brave as Bob," thought Sam. "I don't see how he dares to stand up before Uncle Aaron and defy him. He makes me tremble."

The truth was, Sam was not made of heroic mold. He was a timid boy and was easily overawed. He lacked entirely the qualities that made Bob so bold and resolute. He could admire his friend, but he could not imitate him.

"Now, come home," said Wolverton, shortly.

Sam followed his uncle meekly.

When they reached home Sam was set to work. At twelve o'clock the bell rang for dinner. Sam dropped his axe (he had been splitting wood) and entered the kitchen, where the frugal meal was spread. His uncle was already sitting in his place, and Sam prepared to sit down in his usual chair.

"Samuel," said his uncle, "you have disobeyed me. You do not deserve any dinner."

Sam's countenance fell, for he was very hungry.

"I am very hungry," he faltered.

"You should have thought of that when you disobeyed me and gave your money to the Burton boy. This is intended as a salutary lesson, Samuel, to cure you of your stubbornness and disobedience."

"You are quite right, Aaron," said Miss Sally in her deep voice. "Samuel needs chastening."

Poor Sam slunk out of the door in a state of depression. Not being ordered to return to his work, he went out into the street, where he met Bob and Clip, and to them he told his tale of woe.

"Your uncle is as mean as they make 'em," said Bob. "Here, go into the baker's and buy some doughnuts and pie."

He handed Sam a quarter, and the hungry boy followed his advice, faring quite as well as he would have done at his uncle's table. Rather to Mr. Wolverton's surprise, he worked all the afternoon without showing signs of hunger, and that gentleman began to consider whether, after all, two meals a day were not sufficient for him.