but declared it was only a little sore and would be all right by the next
day.

"I feel pretty well," continued Tom, "and I guess I'll go home now."

"I think you won't, young man," interposed Squire Pemberton.

Tom looked at him, and for the first time since he had come to himself, he
remembered in what manner he had received his injuries. He immediately
came to the conclusion that he had got into a bad scrape. He was in the
house of, and in the presence of, his great enemy. The events of the day
passed in rapid succession through his mind, and he could not help
thinking that he was destined to be the first victim in Pinchbrook to the
war spirit which had just been awakened all over the country.

The squire thought he would not go home, which was as much as to say he
would not let him go home. Tom's wits were a little confused, after the
hard knock he had received upon the head, and all he could do was to stand
and look at the oracle of Pinchbrook, and wait for further developments.

"Young man," said the squire, sternly, and in tones that were intended to
make a deep impression upon the mind of the young man, "your time has
come."

The squire paused, and looked at the culprit to ascertain the effect of
the startling announcement; but Tom seemed to be perfectly cool, and was
not annihilated by the suggestive remark of the great man of Pinchbrook.

"You have become a midnight marauder," added the squire, poetically.