It took Junior but a moment to explain to my boy that they were no match “for the two brutes,” as he expressed himself, adding, “The man is worse than the dog.”

Merton, however, was almost reckless from anger and a sense of unprovoked wrong, and he darted into the house for his gun.

“See here, Merton,” said Junior, firmly, “shoot the dog if they set him on us, but never fire at a human being.  You’d better give me the gun; I am cooler than you are.”

They had no occasion to use the weapon, however.  The man shook his fist at them, while his children indulged in taunts and coarse derision.  The dog, sharing their spirit and not their discretion, started for the boys, but was recalled, and our undesirable neighbors departed leisurely.

All this was related to me after nightfall, when I returned with my wife and younger children from the Maizeville Landing.  I confess that I fully shared Merton’s anger, although I listened quietly.

“You grow white, Robert, when you are angry,” said my wife.  “I suppose that’s the most dangerous kind of heat—­white-heat.  Don’t take the matter so to heart.  We can’t risk getting the ill-will of these ugly people.  You know what Mr. Jones said about them.”

“This question shall be settled in twenty-four hours!” I replied.  “That man and his family are the pest of the neighborhood, and everyone lives in a sort of abject dread of them.  Now, the neighbors must say ‘yes’ or ‘no’ to the question whether we shall have decency, law, and order, or not.  Merton, unharness the horse.  Junior, come with me; I’m going to see your father.”

I found Mr. Jones sleepy and about to retire, but his blue eyes were soon wide open, with an angry fire in them.

“You take the matter very quietly, Mr. Durham;” he said; “more quietly than I could.”

“I shall not fume about the affair a moment.  I prefer to act.  The only question for you and the other neighbors to decide is, Will you act with me?  I am going to this man Bagley’s house to-morrow, to give him his choice.  It’s either decency and law-abiding on his part, now, or prosecution before the law on mine.  You say that you are sure that he has burned barns, and made himself generally the terror of the region.  Now, I won’t live in a neighborhood infested by people little better than wild Indians.  My feelings as a man will not permit me to submit to insult and injury.  What’s more, it’s time the people about here abated this nuisance.”

“You are right, Robert Durham!” said Mr. Jones, springing up and giving me his hand.  “I’ve felt mean, and so have others, that we’ve allowed ourselves to be run over by this rapscallion.  If you go to-morrow, I’ll go with you, and so will Rollins.  His hen-roost was robbed t’other night, and he tracked the thieves straight toward Bagley’s house.  He says his patience has given out.  It only needs a leader to rouse the neighborhood, but it ain’t very creditable to us that we let a new-comer like you face the thing first.”