"Why—er See here, what do you mean?" blustered Mike Marcy.
"I mean just what I say, Mr. Marcy, and I want you to answer my question."
"Eh! Say, do you see this whip?" stormed the farmer. "I'll let ye taste it in a minit!"
"You'll do nothing of the kind," answered Dave, coolly. "I ask you a question and you must answer it. This is a serious business. You fired three shots at a crowd of innocent schoolboys who were harming nobody. You cannot deny it."
"They were on my land."
"Some of them were on the road, and they were doing absolutely no harm. You merely fired at them out of pure ugliness."
"See here, do ye want this?" And now the horsewhip was raised.
"If you strike either of us, I shall at once have you arrested. How many students do you suppose are now in bed under the doctor's care because of the shooting you did?"
At this question Mike Marcy turned suddenly pale.
"I—er—was anybody hurt? I—er—I fired into the air—just to scare 'em," he faltered.
"I ask you a question and I want you to answer it, and you had better do it unless you want to get into more trouble. Who told you to go out and do the shooting?"
