“I shall if I choose,” said Philip, unpleasantly; but he, too, reined up his horse, so that the two teams stood facing each other. Harry shrugged his shoulders, and asked, temperately: “Then how do you expect to get by?” “I want you to turn out as far as you can,” he said authoritatively. Harry was provoked, and not without reason. “I have turned out my share, and shan’t turn out another inch,” he said, firmly. “You must be a fool to expect it.” “Do you mean to call me a fool?” demanded Philip, his eyes flashing. “You certainly act like one.” “You’d better take care how you talk, you beggar!” exclaimed Philip, furiously. “I’m no more a beggar than you are, Philip Ross!” “Well, you are nothing but a working boy, at any rate.” “What if I am?” replied Harry. “I’ve got just as much right on this road as you.” “I’m a gentleman,” asserted Philip, angrily. “Well, you don’t act like one; you’d better turn out pretty quick, for I am in a hurry and can’t wait.” “Then turn out more.” “I shan’t do it,” said Harry, with spirit; “and no one but you would be unreasonable enough to ask me to do it.” “Then you’ll have to wait,” said Philip, settling himself back provokingly in his seat, and eyeing Harry with a look of disdain. “Come, don’t be obstinate, Philip,” urged Harry, impatiently. “I only ask you to do your share of turning. We have equal rights here, even if you were three times the gentleman you pretend to be.” “You are insolent, Harry Gilbert. I don’t take orders from such as you.” “Then you won’t turn out?” asked Harry, gathering up his reins. “Suppose I don’t?” retorted Philip, in a provoking tone. “Then I shall drive on,” said Harry, resolutely. “You wouldn’t dare to!” “Wouldn’t I? You’ll see. I will count ten, and if at the end of that time you don’t turn out, I will drive on, and make you take the consequences.” Philip glanced at him doubtfully. Would he really do what he said? “Pooh! I don’t believe it!” he decided. “Anyway, I’m not going to give way to a working boy. I won’t do it.” I am not going to decide the question whether Harry did right or not. I can only say that he claimed no more than his rights, and was not without excuse for the course he adopted. “One—two—three!” counted Harry, and so on until he had counted ten. Then, gathering up his reins, he said: “I ask you, Philip, for the last time, whether you will turn out?” “I won’t till I get ready.” “Go ’long, Dobbin!” was Harry’s sole reply. And his horse was put in motion. The natural result followed. The grocery wagon was strongly made, and fitted for rough usage. The buggy was of light structure, built for speed, and was no match for it. The two carriages locked wheels. That of the wagon was unharmed, but the wheel of the buggy came off. The horse darted forward. Philip was thrown out at the side, aiming an ineffectual blow with his whip at Harry, as he found himself going, and landed in a half stunned condition on the grass at the side.