move out fur anything."

"You haven't any load, unless it's in that jug."

Yates saw with consternation that the jar had been jolted out from
under its covering, but the happy consolation came to him that the two
in the buggy would believe it belonged to Bartlett. He thought,
however, that this dog-in-the-manger policy had gone far enough. He
stepped briskly forward, and said to Bartlett:

"Better drive aside a little, and let them pass."

"You 'tend to your own business," cried the thoroughly enraged farmer.

"I will," said Yates shortly, striding to the horses' heads. He took
them by the bits and, in spite of Bartlett's maledictions and pulling
at the lines, he drew them to one side, so that the buggy got by.

"Thank you!" cried the young man. The light and glittering carriage
rapidly disappeared up the Ridge Road.

Bartlett sat there for one moment the picture of baffled rage. Then he
threw the reins down on the backs of his patient horses, and descended.

"You take my horses by the head, do you, you good-fur-nuthin' Yank? You
do, eh? I like your cheek. Touch my horses an' me a-holdin' the lines!
Now you hear me? Your traps comes right off here on the road. You hear
me?"

"Oh, anybody within a mile can hear you."