"You shut up and clear out yerself," said the boy, threateningly, "or I'll break yer head. Yer pap's away, and we ain't afraid of you. What's more, we're goin' ter have some cherries before--" Now Merton had a quick temper, and at this moment sprang at the fellow who was adding insult to injury, so quickly that he got in a blow that blackened one of the thief's eyes. Then they clinched, and, although his antagonist was the heavier, Merton thinks he could have whipped him had not the two younger marauders attacked him, tooth and nail, like cats. Finding himself getting the worst of it, he instinctively sent out a cry for his stanch friend Junior. Fortunately, this ally was coming along the road toward our house, and he gave an answering halloo. The vagrants, apparently, had a wholesome fear of John Jones, junior, for, on hearing his voice, they beat a hurried retreat; but knowing that no one was at the house, and in the spirit of revengeful mischief, they took their flight in that direction. Seeing Mousie's flower-bed, they ran and jumped upon that, breaking down half the plants, then dashed off through the coops, releasing the hens, and scattering the broods of chickens. Merton and Junior, who for a few moments had lost sight of the invaders in the thick raspberry bushes, were now in hot pursuit, and would have caught them again, had they not seen a man coming up the lane, accompanied by a big dog. Junior laid a hand on headlong Merton, whose blood was now at boiling heat, and said, "Stop." CHAPTER XXXIII GIVEN HIS CHOICE Junior had good reason for bringing Merton to a sudden halt in his impetuous and hostile advance. The man coming up the lane, with a savage dog, was the father of the ill-nurtured children. He had felt a little uneasy as to the results of their raid upon our fruit, and had walked across the fields to give them the encouragement of his presence, or to cover their retreat, which he now did effectually. It took Junior but a moment to explain to my boy that they were no match "for the two brutes," as he expressed himself, adding, "The man is worse than the dog." Merton, however, was almost reckless from anger and a sense of unprovoked wrong, and he darted into the house for his gun. "See here, Merton," said Junior, firmly, "shoot the dog if they set him on us, but never fire at a human being. You'd better give me the gun; I am cooler than you are." They had no occasion to use the weapon, however. The man shook his fist at them, while his children indulged in taunts and coarse derision. The dog, sharing their spirit and not their discretion, started for the boys, but was recalled, and our undesirable neighbors departed leisurely. All this was related to me after nightfall, when I returned with my wife and younger children from the Maizeville Landing. I confess that I fully shared Merton's anger, although I listened quietly.