He was shaking with laughter.
I was silly and hot-headed in those days, and my wetting had not disposed me to be laughed at.

In this fellow I saw a confederate of Gib's, and if I had lost one I had the other.

So I marched up to him and very roundly damned his insolence.
He was a stern, lantern-jawed man of forty or so, dressed very roughly in leather breeches and a frieze coat.

Long grey woollen stockings were rolled above his knees, and slung on his back was an ancient musket.
"Easy, my lad," he said.

"It's a free country, and there's no statute against mirth." "I'll have you before the sheriff," I cried.