Bacon was now in a frightful temper.

The veins in his great, bare, weather-beaten neck swelled dangerously.
"Jest let me say right here that I've had enough o' you.

You can't live on the same acre with my girl another day." "What makes ye think I can't ?" It was now the young man's turn to draw himself up, and as he faced the old man, his arms folded and each vast hand grasping an elbow, he looked like a statue of red granite, and the hands resembled the paws of a crouching lion: but his eyes smiled.
"I don't _think_, I know ye won't." "What's the objection to me ?" "Objection?
Hell! What's the inducement?
My hired man, an' not three shirts to yer back!" "That's another; I've got four.

Say, old man, did you ever work out for a living ?" "That's none o' your business," growled Bacon, a little taken down.
"I've worked, an' scraped, an' got t'gether a little prop'ty here, an' they ain't no sucker like you goun' to come 'long here, an' live off me, an' spend my prop'ty after I'm dead.

You can jest bet high on that." "Who's goin' t' live on ye ?" "You're aimun' to." "I ain't, neither." "Yes, y'are.