In the storm of his feelings words seemed useless. The thought of his own impotence of defence, with this assailant in possession of Judge Willard’s ear and confidence, the memory of his own sorrows of waiting, the woes of the Mayo youth, whirled in his brain like torches. His fist tightened into a hard lump, his arm throbbed and itched, and the next moment, with a grunt, the Squire struck forward. For the first and last time in his life Squire Phineas Look knocked a man down, and for one wild moment the primal Adam in him gloried in the act. He stood above Bradish with his arm poised and his fist smarting. Then he looked up and beheld Sylvena Willard gazing at the miserable scene from the piazza of the big house. And he held down his head and walked away up the street, the hot flush of shame on his face, a sob in his throat, and the gray blur of tears replacing the red blur that had flamed there a moment before. He glanced back once and saw Bradish going to her with his handkerchief pressed to his face. Hiram and his new friend were taking the air on the porch when he came into the yard of the Look place. He tried to avoid them, but his brother called to him. “We saw you do it, Phin,” he said. “’Twas good work, but what had he done to you?” “Oh, Hiram,” mourned the Squire, “don’t make light of a terrible deed. Oh, the Look temper--the Look temper! Thank God there are none of the blood to follow us.” He stumbled into the house with the feeble step of an old man. CHAPTER XII--THE LIVELY FIRST APPEARANCE OF “THE LOOK BROTHERS CONSOLIDATED MENAGERIE AND CIRCUS” “Allus was bound to grab right in, That was the cut of old Seth Blinn. Finger was stuck in ev’ry pie Or else he’d know the reason why; But when he quit how people swore, For things was wuss’n they was before.” --Ballads of “Queer Capers.” By Judas,” remarked Hiram, admiringly, to Peak for the tenth time since they had observed the astonishing contretemps in the road, “I’m proud of that brother of mine. I didn’t know ’twas in him. I was afraid he was only lawyer and nothin’ else.” He relighted his cigar. “I’ve got to own up to you, Sime, that we wasn’t gettin’ along together the best that ever was. I thought he had got soaked with too many sissy notions, and there’s nothin’ that makes a circus man so sick as sissy notions. You know that! But I tell you, Sime, if he can do a job like that and only holds out now as he’s commenced, him and me is goin’ to get along fine after this.” “He seemed to be feelin’ awful bad when he went into the house,” remarked Peak, solicitously. “I didn’t notice it,” cried Hiram; “well, if that’s the case, he’s got to be chirked up. I don’t want him to lose any of his grip.” And he hurried around the corner and entered the kitchen.