Jones tried to temporize. He could not disbelieve the evidence of his own eyes, and he naturally concluded that Jimmy was feigning ignorance for a purpose.
“I see,” he exclaimed. “You are a shrewd little chap. Holding out for more money, eh? Well, I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll make it $750. What do you say to that, eh? See that Gabriel loses the race and I’ll give you $750. Come, what do you say?”
“That’s a whole lot of money,” persisted Jones.
Jimmy brought his hands together suddenly.
“Not for a million!” he declared stoutly.
Again Jones became angry and, stretching forth a strong hand suddenly, took Jimmy by the shoulder and shook him.
“You little whipper-snapper!” he said. “What do you mean by trifling with me like that? I’ll show you.”
He drew back a huge fist, and in another second would have sent it crashing into Jimmy’s face.
But, at that, Shirley sprang from the stall. Her eyes flashed, and anger crimsoned her cheeks. In her hand she carried a short whip she had picked up in the stall.
Jones, startled, turned just in time to catch the whip across his face. Shirley swung it with all her strength. Jones clapped his hands to his face and uttered a moan of pain.
Then he turned slowly and, as he removed his hand, a huge welt showed where the whip had found its mark.
“You shall answer for that blow,” he said through his teeth. “You and your father both. I’ll break him, if it takes every cent I have.”
“Leave here at once,” she commanded, “or I shall tell my father and he will have the niggers drive you off the place.”
Jones took a sudden step toward her. Shirley leaped back and again raised the whip.
“One step nearer,” she said quietly, “and I’ll use the whip again.”
She drew herself up, and, extending a hand toward the door, cried:
With an evil smile on his lips, Jones bowed to her scornfully, and backed through the door. Then Shirley dropped the whip, and walked over to Jimmy, who was sitting upon the floor, his face in his hands.
“Never mind, Jimmy,” she said. “It was a great temptation and you are noble to refuse it.”
“Then it was you whom Jones saw in Cincinnati?” he asked.
“I knew it,” replied Jimmy. “When he was so persistent, I knew that he was not lying. Now I understand. Then you must have overheard our first conversation?”