The pilgrim's staff came swinging vigorously around to do its duty as an index, and caught Mr. Devil Marston's hat midway, knocking it into the dust of the gutter, where it rolled over a few times as knocked-off hats invariably do. The victim of this harmless accident would not, under ordinary circumstances, have taken it lightly. Mr. Hoonover made a motion to recover the property he had unintentionally mistreated, but Marston, cat-like, had the hat in his hands, brushing it with his sleeve, before Uncle Billy's wits could fully take in the situation.
"Mind what you're about, you damned old buzzard!" he gritted, his small eyes glinting wickedly. "If you've got to carry a fishing pole around with you why don't you stay in the cornfield, where you belong?"
Uncle Billy's booted feet began to go up and down. His straggling whiskers trembled from anger and he combed them with restless fingers as he fired back--
"I didn't go to do it, 'n' I's goin' to pick it up for you, you--you--you son of a nigger!"
A big brown fist came like a lightning bolt at the old fellow's convulsed face, but swifter yet was Glenning's stroke which threw up the threatening arm, and this was followed by another which sent the burly form reeling, though it did not fall. Then as John dragged Uncle Billy into the little passageway at the foot of the stair some men came running towards the scene. They arrived in time to lay restraining hands upon Marston, who had his revolver out and was advancing to renew the trouble. By main force they held him for a time, until he had become calmer, and it was big Joe Colver who took his pistol from him and told him he would be arrested if he did not go on his way peaceably, and at once. This he reluctantly consented to do, and the judge walked with him to the bank, which he entered.
While this was going on, John had literally held Uncle Billy captive. The touchy old man's ire was aflame at its highest pitch, and he wanted to fight. When the coast was clear John reminded him of the urgent need which called them to the country, and escorted him to his buggy. Then, assuring him that he would return immediately, and begging him to remain in his buggy, Glenning hastily sought the livery stable. While he was waiting for his horse to be gotten ready he saw, diagonally across the street, a brick building with the words Macon National Bank, in large letters over the door.