I don't want no gun," said old Sam snappishly. "He didn't cut your
head like that with the chopper, did he?"

"Yes, yes: look! I'm bleeding 'most to dead."

"Looks more as if you'd gone down on the block. There, missus: hadn't
you and the young ladies best go indoors?"

"No; not yet," cried Mrs Braydon indignantly. "In my husband's absence
too! Man, man, have you not been well treated here?"

"Yes, madam," said the convict hoarsely.

"Such an outrage--such a cruel outrage on Dr Braydon's trusted
servant!"

"What he said, madam, is not true," cried the convict, recovering
himself now from the giddiness produced by the stunning blow. "I did
not, I could not raise the axe to him."

As he spoke he turned his eyes from Mrs Braydon to her daughters, and
he shivered as he saw Janet's indignant look.

"I tell you he did," cried Brookes, holding the fork now threateningly,
as soldiers would bayonets. "He tried to murder me. Sam, are you going
to fetch a gun?"

"Yah! I'm going to fetch a bucket o' water if you won't do it yourself.
Missus--young ladies, why don't you go? This ain't the place for you."

"No," said Mrs Braydon, taking Hilda's hand. "Come in, Janet."

But for a moment Janet did not stir, held as she was by the convict's
imploring look as he said, addressing Mrs Braydon, though as if for
her:

"Indeed, madam, it is not true. This man struck me brutally: I forgot
myself--I did strike him in return."

"Yes," said Mrs Braydon coldly; and; uttering a sob, Janet gave the
convict a reproachful look and followed her mother into the house.

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.

BROOKES STRIKES BACK.

"That's better!" said old Sam. "The masters both out, and we're having
a nice day here."

Leather stood as if turned to stone.

"Let's look at you," continued the old man, as he roughly spun Brookes
round. "Where's yer 'ankycher?"

Brookes made a movement to seize the axe, but old Sam kicked it away.

"Let it alone, stoopid! What did you want to tell that lie for? He
didn't hit you wi' that."

"I swear he did," cried Brookes fiercely.

"Then you'd swear anything," said Sam, binding up the rough cut. "But
do you think I'm a fool? Any one can see that wasn't made with the edge
of a chopper. Did he give you that lovely crack in the mouth with the
chopper too?"

"I'll let him see--I'll let him see!"

"I wouldn't till I'd washed my face. Sarves you right: you're allus
letting out at somebody.