At the approach of Captain Fishley, I felt the shudder that swept through the feeble frame of Flora, as she stood infolded in my arms.  I gently placed her in the chair again, and released myself from her clinging embrace; for I realized that, in the brief moment left to me, it was necessary to prepare for war.  I knew the temper of Captain Fishley; and, though he had never yet struck me, I believed that it was only because I had been all submission.

I was fully resolved to defend myself, and especially to defend Flora.  I picked up the heavy iron poker which lay on the back of the stove, and placed myself in front of my trembling sister.  The captain was a brute, and his wife was hardly better than a brute.  I feared that she, supported by her husband, would again lay violent hands upon Flora, knowing that such a course would sting me deeper than a blow upon my own head.

I did not flourish the poker, or make any irritating demonstrations with it; on the contrary, I held it behind me, rather for use in an emergency than to provoke my tyrants.  I was not disposed to make the affair any worse than the circumstances required, and by this time I was cool and self-possessed.  Perhaps my critical reader may wonder that a boy of my age should have set so high a value upon controlling his temper, and preserving the use of his faculties in the time of peril, for it is not exactly natural for boys to do so.  Youth is hot-blooded, and age and experience are generally required to cool the impetuous current that courses through its veins.

My father-blessings on his memory-had taught me the lesson.  One day, a fire in the long grass of the prairie threatened the destruction of all our buildings.  Clarence and myself went into a flurry, and did a great many stupid things, so excited that we did not know what we were about.  Father stopped in the midst of the danger to reprove us, and gave us such a solemn and impressive lesson on the necessity of keeping cool, that I never forgot it.  Then he told us to harness the horses to the plough.  Clarence struck a furrow along the imperilled side of the house; my father mowed a wide swath through the tall grass, and I raked it away.  Before the fire reached us, we had made a barrier which it could not pass.  We kept cool, and fought the devouring element with entire success.

I do not mean to say that I never got mad; only that, when I had a fair chance to think an instant, I nerved myself to a degree of self-possession which enabled me to avoid doing stupid things.  Such was my frame of mind on the present occasion, and I coolly awaited the coming of the tyrants.  Both of them were boiling over with wrath when they entered the kitchen, and rushed towards me so fiercely that I thought they intended to overwhelm me at a single blow.

“What does all this mean, Buck?  What have you been doing?” demanded Captain Fishley, as soon as he had crossed the threshold of the room.

I deemed it advisable to make no answer.

“I’ll teach you to insult your betters!” he continued, as he rushed forward, with arms extended, ready to wreak his vengeance upon me.

I was satisfied that the blow was to come with the word, and I slung the poker over my shoulder, in the attitude of defence.

“Hold on, Captain Fishley!” I replied.

He had evidently not expected any such demonstration.  He had no occasion to suspect it, for previously I had been uniformly submissive, not only to him and his wife, but even to Ham, which had always been a much harder task.  The tyrants halted, and gazed at me with a look of stupefied astonishment.

“What are you going to do with that poker?” asked the captain, after a long breath, in which much of his wrath seemed to have evaporated.

“Defend myself,” I replied.

“Do you mean to strike me with that poker?”

“Not unless you put your hands on me or my sister.  If you touch me, I’ll knock you down, if I have to be hanged for it,” was my answer, deliberately but earnestly uttered.

“Has it come to this?” groaned he, completely nonplussed by the vigorous show of resistance I made.

“Yes, sir.”

“I think it is time something was done,” he added, glancing around the room, apparently in search of some weapon.

“I think so too, and I am going to do something, if need be.”

“What are you going to do?”

“If you want to talk, I’ll talk.  I wish you to understand that I’m just as cool as well-water, and this thing has gone just as far as it’s going to.”

“What do you mean by that, you scoundrel?  What thing?”

“My sister Flora is a poor, weak, sick child.  She isn’t your servant, nor your wife’s servant; and she shall not be kicked round by either one of you.  That’s all I have to say.”

“Who has kicked her round?” growled the captain.

“Mrs. Fishley has done just the same as to kick her.  She took her by the arm, dragged her out of her chair, and was shaking her when I stepped in.”

I was particular to state the facts thus explicitly, because I did not believe Mrs. Fishley had been careful to include this portion of the affair in her complaint to her husband.

“It’s no such thing!  I should like to know!” exclaimed Mrs. Fishley, who, by some miracle, had been enabled to hold her tongue thus far.

“I saw her do it,” I added.

“It’s no such thing!”

“Didn’t you take her by the arm?” I demanded.

“Well, I did just touch her on the arm, but I didn’t hurt her none.  I wouldn’t hurt her for a million dollars.”

“Let Flora speak for herself,” I continued.  “What did she do to you, Flora?”

“I don’t like to say anything about it, Buckland.  She didn’t hurt me much,” answered the terrified child.

“You see, she won’t say I shook her, or did any such awful thing,” said the virago, triumphantly.

“Speak, my dearest sister.  We had better settle this matter now,” I added.

“She did take me by the arm, pull me out of the chair, and was shaking me, when you interfered,” replied the poor girl, trembling with fear of the consequences of her truthful confession.

“Well, I never!” gasped Mrs. Fishley.

Captain Fishley evidently believed that his wife was lame; but this did not make much difference to him.  He was a tyrant and a bully; but, as tyrants and bullies always are, he was a coward, or he would have demolished me before this time.  He had a wholesome respect for the poker, which I still kept in readiness for immediate use.

“No matter whether Mrs. Fishley touched the child or not,” said he, savagely.  “No boy in my house shall insult my wife, or raise his hand against her.”

“And no man or woman, in this or any other house, shall raise his hand against my sister,” I answered.

“She sat there like a log of wood, and let the flapjacks burn,” snarled Mrs. Fishley.

“She hadn’t anything to do with the flapjacks.  Flora boards here, and isn’t anybody’s servant,” I replied.

“I should like to know!  Is that girl to sit there before the fire and let whatever’s on the stove burn up before she’ll raise her hand to save it?”

“It’s no use of talking,” said I.  “You know all about it as well as I do.  All I have to say is, that Flora shall not be abused by anybody, I don’t care who it is.”

“Nobody’s going to abuse her,” snapped the shrew.

“I’ve got another account to settle with you, Buck Bradford,” continued Captain Fishley.  “Did Ham tell you to black his boots?”

“He did.”

“And you told him you wouldn’t?”

“I told him so.”

“What do you mean, you rascal?”

“I only meant that I wouldn’t do it.  That’s all I meant.”

“I should like to know what we’re coming to!” ejaculated Mrs. Fishley.

“We are coming to an understanding, I hope,” I answered.

“I hope so too, and I mean to do it,” added the captain.  “High times we’re having here, when the boys won’t do what they are told, and then take the poker when they’re spoken to.”

“Captain Fishley, I think there are two sides to this question.  The agreement my brother Clarence made with you was, that I should take care of the horse and go after the mail for my board.  That’s what he said to me in one of his letters.  Instead of that, you make me do all the dirty work about the place, and run from pillar to post at everybody’s beck and call.”

“That’s all you’re good for,” interposed Captain Fishley, sourly.

“Perhaps it is; but that’s not what my brother, who is my guardian, agreed to have me do.  You have kept me at home from school half the time-”

“Too much learning spoils boys.”

“That wasn’t what spoiled you.  But that’s nothing to do with the agreement.”

“None of your impudence, you saucy young cub,” said he, shaking his head, and moving a step nearer to me; whereat I demonstrated mildly with the poker.

“I don’t mean to be impudent, but I won’t be treated like a dog any longer.  I was willing enough to do all I was told, even if it wasn’t according to the agreement; but I get blowed up twenty times a day by all hands.  Ham never speaks civilly to me, and treats me like a nigger servant.  This thing has gone just as far as it can go.  I have made up my mind not to stand it any longer.”

“We’ll see,” replied the captain, grinding his teeth and puckering up his lips.

“But I don’t want to fight, or have any trouble, Captain Fishley,” I proceeded, more gently, for I had warmed up considerably as I recited the history of my wrongs.  “If Ham wants me to black his boots, and will ask me civilly to do so, I will do it, though that’s not my work, and my brother never meant that I should be anybody’s boot-black.”

“You will do what you are told to,” bullied the masculine tyrant.

“And not meddle with things in the house,” added the feminine tyrant.

“All I ask is, that Flora shall be let alone, and to be used fairly myself,” I continued.  “I will do the work just as I have done till October, if I can be treated decently.  That’s all I have to say.”

“That isn’t all I’ve got to say,” replied the captain.  “Buck Bradford, drop that poker!”

“I will not.”

“You won’t?”

“Not till I think it is safe to do so.”

“Do you think I’m going to be threatened with a poker in my own house?”

“I won’t threaten you if you’ll let me alone.  I’ve said all I have to say.”

I know very well that Captain Fishley had not pluck enough to touch me while I had the poker in my hand; and I was fully satisfied that Mrs. Fishley would not meddle with Flora again very soon.  The scene was becoming rather embarrassing to me, and I decided either to end it or to shift the battle-field.  I turned and walked towards the back room.  As one dog pitches into another when the latter appears to show the white feather, Captain Fishley made a spring at me, hoping to take me in the rear.  I was too quick for him, and, facing about, I again drew up in the order of battle.

“We’ll settle this another time.  You haven’t seen the end of it yet,” said he, as he turned and walked into the store.