“We are going to make him hoist the American flag on his house, or hang it out of his window.”

“Well, suppose he won’t.”

“Then we’ll hang him where the flag ought to be.  We’ll pull the house down over his head.”

“I’m with you, Jack,” replied Thomas, with enthusiasm.

“We won’t have a traitor in Pinchbrook.  If we can’t cure him, we’ll ride him on a rail out of the town.”

“I don’t know as you and I ought to get into this scrape,” added Thomas, thoughtfully.

“Why not?”

“You know the squire has a mortgage on our house, and he may get ugly.”

“Let him, if he likes.  I’m not going to tolerate a traitor because he has a mortgage on my father’s house.  Besides, that is a fair business transaction; the squire gets his interest.”

“Mother is afraid of him, as she is of the evil spirit.”

“Women are always timid,” said John, sagely.

“By George! there comes the very man himself!” exclaimed Thomas, as he discovered a horse and chaise slowly approaching.

“So it is; that old chaise looks rather the worse for the wear.  It looks as though it had been through the wars.”

The vehicle did bear very evident marks of hard usage.  One of the shafts was broken, the dasher wrenched off, and the top stove in.  The horse was covered with mud, and limped badly from the effects of his fall.  The broken shaft and the harness were now plentifully adorned with ropes and old straps.  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.