as though fearing other intruders. Then with his old time tricky nimbleness he described a kind of a sliding slip, and seized a short iron bar lying on the ground.
"What do you want?" he demanded, with a scowl.
"I want to have a talk with you, Ike."
"What about?"
"Your mother."
Ralph had heard back at Stanley Junction that Ike's mother had mourned her son's evil course as a judgment sent upon them because her husband sold liquor. He felt sorry for her, as Ike now shrugged his shoulders impatiently, and not a gleam of home-longing or affection followed the allusion to his mother.
"Did you come specially for that?" demanded Ike. "Because if you did, how did you know I was here?"
"I didn't—this meeting is purely accidental."
"Oh!" muttered Ike incredulously.
"I'll be plain, Slump," said Ralph, "for I see you don't welcome my company or my mission. Your father is worried to death about you, your mother is slowly pining away. If you have any manhood at all, you will go home."
"What for?" flared out Ike, savagely swinging the iron rod—"to get walloped! Worse, to
