Robert Davis was unaware of what was going on in Jake Newby’s mind.  He had not counted on any bitterness over their little dispute.

A few days before Robert and Mary planned to move, Robert went over to their new home to mow the yard and clean up a little.  Jake Newby saw him coming, and noticed that he was alone.

“Now is my time,” muttered Jake to himself.  So he strode over to where Robert was.

“Do you mean that I cannot have my chickenhouse, Robert Davis?” asked Jake threateningly.

“Jake, you know that the chickenhouse was not reserved in our contract,” said Robert.

“You are a liar,” shouted Jake.

“You are mistaken, Jake,” said Robert calmly, but feeling a strong impulse to strike his opponent.

“You are a liar, Davis, and you have insulted my father,” said Jake, at the same time shaking his finger dose to Robert’s face.

Instantly, Robert’s powerful right arm shot a blow directly at Jake’s jaw.  It caught him square on the chin, and Jake went sprawling over the lawn.  Jake arose, thoroughly angry.  He rushed at Robert like a demon, but Robert quickly stepped to one side and caught Jake with another blow.  Jake then closed in on Robert and attempted to throw him down.

Over and across the lawn they surged, trampling under foot the shrubbery which Jake had planted to beautify the homestead.  The men were about equally matched in size and strength, but Robert’s clearer brain and strategy were too much for his opponent.

At last they fell in a heap, with Jake on top, and he was raining blows upon Robert’s face in token of his victory, when all at once Robert gave a sudden turn and landed Jake underneath before Jake was aware of what was happening.  But by this time Robert’s heart was talking to him about the fight, so he merely held Jake down until he gave up and promised to go home and not make trouble any more.  Then he let him up.

Jake shook himself, and started home.  Robert was so upset that he could not work.  He sat down on the porch of the house and took a survey of the affair.  He became so engrossed in his study that he did not hear the sound of falling footsteps, until they were close upon him.  He looked up quickly, and met the scornful gaze of Peter Newby’s hazel eyes.

“And so you have become a fighting holiness man have you?  You were so holy a short time ago that you could insult an old man like me with your insinuating remarks.  Now, maybe you will believe me when I say that man can’t live without sinning,” said Peter disdainfully.

Robert was so completely whipped by his own conscience that he felt no inclination to defend himself.  Indeed, how could he defend himself?

“Now, young man, you ought to drop this holiness stuff, for there is nothing in it—­all bunk.  Living above sin are you?  Ha! ha! ha!” and the old man gave poor Robert an explosive horse-laugh.