t there
were heard at this critical moment rapid footsteps--a round, jovial
voice--and bursting through the door came the great form and golden head
of Lime Gilman."

"Hold on here! What's all this?" he said, leaping with an ominously
good-natured smile into the open space before the two men, whose
restless pacing stopped at the sound of his voice. His sunny, laughing
blue eyes swept around him, taking in the situation at a glance. He
continued to smile, but his teeth came together.

"Git out o' this, you hounds! Git!" he said, in the same jovial tone.
"You! _You_," he said to Bill, slapping him lightly on the breast with
the back of his lax fingers. Bill struck at him ferociously, but the
slope-shouldered giant sent it by with his left wrist, kicking the feet
of the striker from under him with a frightful swing of his right
foot--a trick which appalled Joe.

"Clear the track there," ordered Lime. "It's against the law t' fight at
a donation; so out y' go."

Bill crawled painfully to his feet.

"I'll pay you for this yet."

"_Any_ time but now. Git out, 'r I'll kick you out." Lime's voice
changed now. The silent crowd made way for them, and, seizing Joe by the
shoulder and pushing Bill before him, the giant passed out into the open
air. There he pushed Bill off the porch into the snow, and kicked his
brother over him with this parting word:

"You infernal hyenies! Kickin's too good f'r you. If you ever want me,
look around an' you'll find me."

Then, to the spectators who thronged after, he apologized:

"I hate t' fight, and especially to kick a man; but they's times when a
man's _got_ t' do it. Now, jest go back and have a good time. Don't let
them hyenies spoil all y'r fun."

That ended it. All knew Lime. Everybody had heard how he could lift one
end of the separator and toss a two-bushel sack filled with wheat over
the hind wheel of a wagon, and the terror of his kick was not unknown to
them. They all felt sure that the Yohes would not return, and all went
back into the house and attempted to go on with the games. But it was
impossible; such exciting events must be discussed, and the story was
told and retold by each one.

When Milton returned to the parlor, he saw Bettie, tender, dignified and
grave, bending over Blackler, bathing his bruised face. Milton had never
admired her more than at that moment; she looked so womanly. She no
longer cared what people thought.

The other girls, pale and tearful