In fact, the catastrophe had utterly ruined all claim which the chaise ever might have had to be considered a "hahnsome kerridge." "There'll be fun nearer home, I reckon," said John, as he obtained his first view of the sour visage of the squire.
"Can't help it," added Thomas.
"Keep a stiff upper lip, Tom." "I intend to do so." "Don't say a word about to-night, Tom." "Of course not." 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.
"He will prosecute me, I suppose he means by that." "Let him prosecute and be hanged! I'll bet by to-morrow morning he will think better of it.

At any rate, he will find out what the people of Pinchbrook think of him." The boys resumed their walk, and soon reached the store, where they found the group of idlers, that always frequent shops in the country, busily engaged in discussing the affair in which Thomas had been the principal actor.