Instantly there were wild outcries from the others, who had started toward the main, or living house.
"He's killed Charles!" I heard Mrs. Belknap-Jackson scream; then came the deep-chested rumble of the Mixer, "Jackson kicked him first!" They ran for us. They had reached us while our host was down, even while my fist was still clenched. Now again the unfortunate man cried "Help!" as his wife assisted him to his feet.
"Send for an officer!" cried she.
"The man's an anarchist!" shouted her husband.
"Nonsense!" boomed the Mixer. "Jackson got what he was looking for. Do it myself if he kicked me!"
"Oh, Maw! Oh, Mater!" cried her daughter tearfully.
"Gee! He done it in one punch!" I heard Cousin Egbert say with what I was aghast to suspect was admiration.
Mrs. Effie, trembling, could but glare at me and gasp. Mercifully she was beyond speech for the moment.
Mr. Belknap-Jackson was now painfully rubbing his right eye, which was not what he should have done, and I said as much.
"Beg pardon, sir, but one does better with a bit of raw beef."
"How dare you, you great hulking brute!" cried his wife, and made as if to shield her husband from another attack from me, which I submit was unjust.
"Bill's right," said Cousin Egbert casually. "Put a piece of raw steak on it. Gee! with one wallop!" And then, quite strangely, for a moment we all amiably discussed whether cold compresses might not be better. Presently our host was led off by his wife. Mrs. Effie
