"You'd better stop where you are," advised Joe. He reached down and righted his plow. Isom could see the straining of the leaders in his lean wrist as he stood gripping the handle, and the thought passed through him that Joe intended to wrench it off and use it as a weapon against him. Isom had come but a few steps from his plow. He stopped, looking down at the furrow as if struggling to hold himself within bounds. Still looking at the earth, he went back to his implement. "I'll put you where the dogs won't bite you if you ever threaten my life ag'in!" said he. "I didn't threaten your life, Isom, I didn't say a word," said Joe. "A motion's a threat," said Isom. "But I'll tell you now," said Joe, quietly, lowering his voice and leaning forward a little, "you'd better think a long time before you ever start to lay hands on me again, Isom. This is twice. The next time----" Joe set his plow in the furrow with a push that sent the swingle-tree knocking against the horse's heels. The animal started out of the doze into which it had fallen while the quarrel went on. Joe grinned, thinking how even Isom's dumb creatures took every advantage of him that opportunity offered. But he left his warning unfinished as for words. There was no need to say more, for Isom was cowed. He was quaking down to the tap-root of his salt-hardened soul, but he tried to put a different face on it as he took up his plow. "I don't want to cripple you, and lay you up," he said. "If I was to begin on you once I don't know where I'd leave off. Git back to your work, and don't give me any more of your sass!" "I'll go back to work when you give me your word that I'm to have meat and eggs, butter and milk, and plenty of it," said Joe. "I orto tie you up to a tree and lash you!" said Isom, jerking angrily at his horse. "I don't know what ever made me pity your mother and keep her out of the poorhouse by takin' in a loafer like you!" "Well, if you're sick of the bargain go and tell mother. Maybe she is, too," Joe suggested. "No, you'll not git out of it now, you'll stick right here and put in your time, after all the trouble and expense I've been put to teachin' you what little you know about farmin'," Isom declared. He took up his plow and jerked his horse around into the row. Joe stood watching him, with folded arms, plainly with no intention of following. Isom looked back over his shoulder. "Git to work!" he yelled. "You didn't promise me what I asked," said Joe, quietly. "No, and that ain't all!" returned Isom. The tall corn swallowed Isom and his horse as the sea swallowed Pharaoh and his host. When he returned to the end of the field where the rebellion had broken out, he found Joe sitting on the beam of his plow and the well-pleased horse asleep in the sun. Isom said nothing, but plunged away into the tall corn. When he came back next time Joe was unhitching his horse.