He stood back and let them fight it out, and when it was over he said never a word until Dick had picked himself up and walked off, holding to his nose a handkerchief that reddened rapidly.
"Say, you are a son-of-a-gun to fight," he observed admiringly then to Ford.

"Don't you know Dick's supposed to be abso-lute-ly unlickable ?" "May be so--but he sure shows all the symptoms of being licked right at present." Ford moved a thumb joint gently to see whether it was really dislocated or merely felt that way.
"He's going up to the house now, to tell the missus," remarked Jim, craning his neck from the doorway.
"If he does that," Ford replied calmly, "I'll half kill him next time.
What I gave him just now is only a sample package left on the doorstep to try." He sat down upon a corner of the table and began to make himself a smoke.

"Is he going up to the house--honest ?" He would not yield to the impulse to look and see for himself.
"We-el, the trail he's taking has no other logical destination," drawled Jim.

"He's across the bridge." When Ford showed no disposition to say anything to that, Jim came in and closed the door.

"Say, what laid old Mose out so nice ?" he asked, with an indolent sort of curiosity.