Part 29 (2/2)
The old man made no answer save to swing his agile son's frame to one side in another futile effort to throw him to the ground.
Not a word escaped his lips. His eyes flashed and glittered with the uncertain glare of a maniac in the moments when the iron muscles of the son pinned his arms and held his wiry body rigid.
Again Frederick's low pleading could be heard. This time to his brother:
”Can't you stop it, Oliver?”
”How can I?”
”For G.o.d's sake stop it--stop it!”
”I can't stop it. Don't ye see he's got me and I've got to hold him.”
The consciousness of failing strength drove the father to fury. His breath was coming now in shorter gasps. He knew his chances of success were fading. He yielded for a moment, and ceased to struggle. A cunning look crept into his eyes.
The boy relaxed his vigilance. The old man felt the boy's grip ease.
With a sudden thrust of his body he summoned the last ounce of strength, and threw his son to the ground.
The boy laughed a devilish cry of the strong with the weak as he fell.
Before he touched the ground he had deftly turned the father's body beneath his and the full weight of his two hundred pounds fairly crushed the breath from the older man.
A groan of rage and despair was wrung from his stern lips. But no word escaped him. Frederick rushed to the prostrate figures, seized Oliver by the shoulders and tore his grip loose.
”This is foolis.h.!.+” he stormed.
No sooner had Brown risen than he plunged again at his son. The boy had been playing with him to this time. The half of his strength was yet in reserve. A little angry grunt came from his lips, and his father was a child in his hands. With sure, quick movement he pinioned both arms and jammed him against the wheel of the wagon. He held him there for an instant helpless to resist or move.
The last cry of despairing command came from Brown's soul.
”Let go of me, sir!”
The boy merely growled a bulldog's answer.
”Not till you agree to behave yourself.”
Another desperate contraction of muscles and the order came more feebly.
”Will you let go of me, sir?”
”Will you behave yourself?”
”Yes,” came the sullen answer.
The boy relaxed his grip and stood ready for action.
”All right, then.”
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