Andy at Yale | Page 4

You ought to be ashamed of yourself. Using a whip! Why don't you take some one your size, and use your hands if you have to. You're a coward!"
"That's right!" chimed in Chet Anderson.
"It's a blooming shame--that's what it is!" protested Tom Hatfield. "Let's make a rough-house of him, fellows!"
"What's that?" cried the farmer. "You threaten me, do you? Get out of my barnyard before I treat you as I did him! Get out, do you hear!"
"No!" exclaimed Andy. "We don't go until you promise to leave him alone," and he nodded at the shrinking youth.
"Say, I'll show you!" blustered the big farmer. "I'll thrash you young upstarts----"
"Oh no, you won't!" exclaimed Tom, easily. And when big Tom Hatfield, left guard on the Milton eleven, spoke in this tone trouble might always be looked for. "Oh, no you won't, my friend! And, just to show you that you won't--there goes your whip!"
With a quick motion Tom pulled the lash from the man's hand, and sent it whirling over the fence into the road.
"You--you!" blustered the farmer. He was too angry to be able to speak coherently. His hands were clenched and his little pig-like eyes roved from one to the other of the lads as though he were trying to decide upon which one to rush first.
"Take it easy, now," advised Tom, his voice still low. "We're five to one, and we'll certainly tackle you, and tackle you hard, if you don't be nice. We're not afraid of you!"
Perhaps the angry man realized this. Certainly he must have known that he would stand little chance in attacking five healthy, hearty youngsters, each of whom had the glow of clean-living on his cheeks, while their poise showed that they were used to active work, and ready for any emergency.
"Get out of this yard!" roared the farmer. "What right have you got interfering between me and my hired man, anyhow? What right, I'd like to know?"
"The right of every lover of fair-play!" exclaimed Andy. "Do you think we'd stand quietly by and let you use a horse-whip on a young fellow that you ought to be able to handle with one hand? And he with his arm in a sling! To my way of thinking, you ought to be ashamed of yourself."
The farmer growled out something unintelligible.
"We ought to do you up good and brown!" exclaimed Tom, his fists clenched.
"He's only playing off on me--he ain't hurt a mite!" growled the farmer. "He's only fakin' on me."
"I certainly am not," spoke the young fellow in firm but respectful terms. "I sprained my arm unloading your wagon, Mr. Snad, and I can't drive the team any more to-day. I put my handkerchief around it because the sprain hurt me so. I certainly can't work!" His voice faltered and he choked. His spirit seemed as much hurt as his body--perhaps more.
"Huh! Can't work, eh? Then get out!" snarled Mr. Snad. "I want no loafer around here! Get out!"
"I'm perfectly willing to go when you pay me what you owe me," said the helper, quietly.
"Owe you! I don't owe you nothin', you lazy lout!" snapped the farmer.
"You certainly do. You owe me twelve dollars, and as soon as you pay me I'll get out, and be glad to go!"
"Twelve dollars! I'd like to see myself giving you that much money!" grumbled the farmer. "You ain't wuth but ten dollars at the most, an' I won't pay you that for you busted my mowin' machine, an' it'll take that t' pay for fixin' it."
"That mowing machine was in bad order when you had me take it out," replied the young fellow, "and you know it. It was simply an accident that it broke, and not my fault in the least."
"Well, you'll pay for it, just the same," was the sneering reply. "Now be off!"
"Not until I get my wages. You agreed to pay me twelve dollars a month, and board me. My month is up to-day, and I want my money. It's about all I have in the world; I need it."
"You'll not get it out of me," and the farmer turned aside. Evidently he had given up the idea of further chastising his hired man. The presence of Andy and his chums was enough to deter him.
"Mr. Snad, I demand my money!" exclaimed the young farm hand.
"You'll not get it! Leave my premises! Clear off, all of you," and he glared at the schoolboys.
"Mr. Snad, I'll go as soon as you give me my twelve dollars," persisted the youth, his voice trembling.
"You'll get no twelve dollars out of me," snapped the man.
"Oh, yes, I think he will," spoke Andy. "You'd better pay over that money, Mr. Snad."
"Eh? What's that your business?"
"It's the business of everyone to see fair play," said Andy.
"And we're going to do