The Man in Gray: A Romance of North and South Part 29

"It looks black to me."

"It looks h.e.l.lish to me."

"I'm not going."

"Nor am I."

They promptly reported the decision to their father.

His eyes flamed.

"It's too late to retreat now!"

"We're not going," was the sullen answer in chorus.

The father gripped the two with his hard hands and held them as in a vise.

"You will not put me to shame now before these men. You will go with me--do you hear?"

His tones rang with the quiver of steel and the boys' wills weakened.

Frederick said finally:

"We'll go with you then, but we'll take no part in what you do."

"Agreed," was the stern answer.

He turned to Oliver and said:

"Give me your revolver. I may need it."

"It's mine," the boy replied. "I'll not give it up."

The old man looked the stalwart figure over in a quick glance of apprais.e.m.e.nt. Brown had been a man of iron strength in his day but his shoulders were stooped and he knew he was no match for the fierce strength of youth. Yet his hesitation was only for an instant.

With the sudden spring of a panther he leaped on the boy and attempted to take the pistol by force. The son resisted with fury.

Frederick, alarmed lest the pistol should be discharged in the struggle, managed to slip it from his brother's belt.

The match was not equal.

Youth was master in the appeal to brute strength. At North Elba the father had once thrown thirty lumbermen in a day, one after the other, in a wrestling match. He summoned the last ounce of strength now to subdue his rebellious son.

Frederick watched the contest with painful anxiety. His own mind was not strong. He had already given evidences of insanity that had distressed his brother. If Oliver should kill his father or the old man should kill the brother! He couldn't face the hideous possibility. Yet he couldn't stop them.

Fortunately there were no other witnesses to the fight. Townsley was busy at the stable with the team. Weiner and Thompson had gone into the house to complete their packing of provisions for the journey.

In tones of blind anguish Frederick followed the two desperate struggling men.

"Don't do this, Father!"

The old man made no answer save to swing his agile son's frame to one side in another futile effort to throw him to the ground.

Not a word escaped his lips. His eyes flashed and glittered with the uncertain glare of a maniac in the moments when the iron muscles of the son pinned his arms and held his wiry body rigid.

Again Frederick's low pleading could be heard. This time to his brother:

"Can't you stop it, Oliver?"

"How can I?"

"For G.o.d's sake stop it--stop it!"

"I can't stop it. Don't ye see he's got me and I've got to hold him."

The consciousness of failing strength drove the father to fury. His breath was coming now in shorter gasps. He knew his chances of success were fading. He yielded for a moment, and ceased to struggle. A cunning look crept into his eyes.

The boy relaxed his vigilance. The old man felt the boy's grip ease.

With a sudden thrust of his body he summoned the last ounce of strength, and threw his son to the ground.

The boy laughed a devilish cry of the strong with the weak as he fell.

Before he touched the ground he had deftly turned the father's body beneath his and the full weight of his two hundred pounds fairly crushed the breath from the older man.

A groan of rage and despair was wrung from his stern lips. But no word escaped him. Frederick rushed to the prostrate figures, seized Oliver by the shoulders and tore his grip loose.

"This is foolish!" he stormed.

No sooner had Brown risen than he plunged again at his son. The boy had been playing with him to this time. The half of his strength was yet in reserve. A little angry grunt came from his lips, and his father was a child in his hands. With sure, quick movement he pinioned both arms and jammed him against the wheel of the wagon. He held him there for an instant helpless to resist or move.

The last cry of despairing command came from Brown's soul.

"Let go of me, sir!"

The boy merely growled a bulldog's answer.

"Not till you agree to behave yourself."

Another desperate contraction of muscles and the order came more feebly.

"Will you let go of me, sir?"

"Will you behave yourself?"

"Yes," came the sullen answer.

The boy relaxed his grip and stood ready for action.

"All right, then."