“Don’t bother us,” shouted Hiram, and he cracked the lash over the heads of the rearing leaders. “We’ve got less than four hours to make twenty-five miles and there ain’t time for conversation. You for your job, me for mine.” The Squire was obliged to leap back out of the way of the plunging horses. But he ran after the van as it roared down into the road, yelling appeal and protest. “We’ll fix it,” Hiram shrieked over his shoulder as the horses began to gallop. The Squire stopped in the middle of the road, shaking his fists after the turn-out as it went around the bend at the alders in a cloud of dust. “Fix it, you damnable fool!” he gasped in his impotent rage. “You’ll fix it forever. Of all the infernal idiots in the way of a brother that a man ever had! Roaring through Square Harbour with a circus cart and four horses! Oh! Oh!” In his fury--the Look fury of which he was so ashamed--he kicked a stone out of the soil, picked it up and cast it after the distant van, which was now far out of sight. “A secret errand,” he muttered, blushing at his juvenile act. “It will be a wonder if he doesn’t get out hand-bills.” Avery’s voice behind him made him turn quickly. “I’m pesky glad you’ve driv’ the two of ’em out of town,” he said, with grim satisfaction. “There wa’n’t either of ’em any good to the place, and I’m sayin’ it to you, even if one of ’em is your own brother.” The Squire walked back into the yard without replying. “Figger-Four” hopped along beside him. “I’ve come up to resign,” he continued. “I wish I could have told him so to his face. I was goin’ to inform him that I wouldn’t work another hour for him, not if he was the Great Kajam of Pee-ru and paid me five dollars a second. He owes me two dollars and a half as it is, and I want you to collect it for me, Squire.” “My brother hasn’t gone away,” snapped the lawyer from the door-stoop. He wanted the man to leave. “If that wa’n’t goin’ away, then what do you call it?” squealed Avery, snapping up to his full height and pointing his hand at the turn of the road. “He wasn’t comin’, was he, with his four hosses and his circus cart?” “You go home and keep still,” commanded the Squire. “Hiram will be here to-morrow and will pay you if he owes you anything.” He went into the kitchen and slammed the door. “If the Looks can’t act out hogs when they’re a mind to, then I don’t want a cent,” growled Avery, scowling at the door. “But they ain’t goin’ to cheat me out of two dollars and a half, not if the court knows herself, and she thinks she do.” After another surly look at the closed door he went around the barn. The other vans were in their usual place. “There’s property enough left. I can sue and attach,” pondered the creditor. “Another thing about Hime, he’s a durn liar,” he went on mumbling. “He’s been telling me right along that his el’phunt is so much in love with him that she’d make a kick-up if he went away and left her. She ain’t makin’ no great stir near as I can see.”