When the chaise had approached near enough to enable the squire to
recognize the author of his misfortunes, he stopped the horse, and got out
of the vehicle, with the whip in his hand.

"Now, you young scoundrel, I will teach you to insult me and my son, and
destroy my property. Stay in the chaise, Fred, and hold the horse," he
added to his son.

But there was not much need of holding the horse now, for he was too lame
to run fast or far. Thomas and John came to a halt; and if the squire had
been a prudent man, he might have seen by the flash of their eyes, that he
was about to engage in an unsafe operation.

"I am going to horsewhip you within an inch of your life, you villain,
you!" roared the squire, brandishing the whip.

"No, you are not," replied Thomas, coolly.

"If you drop the weight of that lash on my brother, I'll smash your head,"
added John.

The squire paused, and glanced at the wiry form of the young sailor.
Better thoughts, or at least wiser ones, came to his aid.

"I can bring you to your senses in another way," said he, dropping his
whip, and getting into the chaise again. "You will hear from me before the
week is out."

"Let him go; don't say a word, Tom," added John.