"Here, let me go!" gasped the boy, kicking, squirming, and trying to
strike his antagonist with his hoe.
"Let the boy go!" said Cameron. The tone in his voice arrested Perkins'
attention.
"What's your business?" he cried, with an oath, dropping the boy and
turning fiercely upon Cameron.
"Oh, nothing very much, except that Tim's my candidate in this race and
he mustn't be interfered with," replied Cameron in a voice still quiet
and with a pleasant smile.
Perkins was white and panting; in a moment more he would have hurled
himself at the man who stood smiling quietly in his face. At this
critical moment Haley interposed.
"What's the row, boys?" he enquired, recognising that something serious
was on.
"We have been having a little excitement, Sir, in the form of a race,"
replied Cameron, "and I've been backing Tim."
"Looks as if you've got him wound up so's he can't stop," replied Haley,
pointing to the boy, who was still going at racing pace and was just
finishing his drill. "Oh, well, a boy's a boy and you've got to humour
him now and then," continued Haley, making conversation with diplomatic
skill. Then turning to Perkins, as if dismissing a trivial subject, he
added, "Looks to me as if that hay in the lower meadow is pretty nigh
fit to cut. Guess we'd better not wait till next week.
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