"You'll take a dog's licking from me, neighbor?" said Yancy
grimly. "I been saving it fo' you!"
Meanwhile Mr. Cavendish, whose proud spirit never greatly
inclined him to the practice of peace, had prepared for battle;
Springing aloft he knocked his heels together.
"Whoop! I'm a man as can slide down a thorny locust and never
get scratched!" he shouted. This was equivalent to setting his
triggers; then he launched himself nimbly and with enthusiasm
into the thick of the fight. It was Mr. Bunker's unfortunate
privilege to sustain the onslaught of the Earl of Lambeth.
The light from the Cavendish hearth continued to brighten the
scene, for Polly was recklessly sacrificing her best straw tick.
Indeed her behavior was in every way worthy of the noble alliance
she had formed. Her cob-pipe was not suffered to go out and with
Connie's help she kept the six small Cavendishes from risking
life and limb in the keel boat, toward which they were powerfully
drawn. Despite these activities she found time to call to Betty
and Hannibal on the cabin roof.
"Jump down here; that ain't no fittin' place for you-all to stop
in with them gentlemen fightin'!"
An instant later Betty and Hannibal stood on the raft with the
little Cavendishes flocking about them. Mr. Yancy's quest of his
nevvy had taken an enduring hold on their imagination. For weeks
it had constituted their one vital topic, and the fight became
merely a satisfying background for this interesting restoration.
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