Accordingly, he turned partially to one side, as much as could be reasonably expected, and quietly awaited the approach of the man in the buggy.  The latter still kept the center of the road, and did not turn out his carriage at all.  As soon as it was close at hand, the driver leaned forward and exclaimed angrily: 

“Turn out, boy!”

If he expected that Herbert would be intimidated by his tone he was much mistaken.  Our hero was bold, and not easily frightened.  He looked quietly in the man’s face, and said composedly, “I have turned out.”

“Then turn out more, you young vagabond!  Do you hear me?”

“Yes, sir, I hear you, and should if you didn’t speak half so loud.”

“Curse your impudence!  I tell you, turn out more!” exclaimed the stranger, becoming more and more angry.  He had expected to get his own way without trouble.  If Herbert had been a man, he would not have been so unreasonable; but he supposed he could browbeat a boy into doing whatever he chose to dictate.  But he had met his match, as it turned out.

“I have already given you half the road,” said Herbert, firmly, “and I don’t intend to give you any more.”

“You don’t, eh?  Young man, how old are you?”

“I am fourteen.”

“I should think you were forty by the airs you put on.”

“Is it putting on airs to insist on my rights?” asked our hero.

“Your rights!” retorted the other, laughing contemptuously.

“Yes, my rights,” returned Herbert, quietly.  “I have a right to half of the road, and I have taken it.  If I turn out any more, I shall go into the gully.”

“That makes no difference.  A wetting won’t do you any harm.  Your impudence needs cooling.”

“That may be,” said Herbert, who did not choose to get angry, but was resolved to maintain his rights; “but I object to the wetting, for all that, and as this wagon is not mine, I do not choose to upset it.”

“You are the most insolent young scamp I ever came across!” exclaimed the other, furiously.  “I’ve a good mind to give you something much worse than a wetting.”

“Such as what?” asked our hero, coolly.  In reply the man flourished his whip significantly.  “Do you see that?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Oh, very well,” said the other, ironically; “I’m glad you do.  Perhaps you wouldn’t like to feel it?”

“No, I don’t think I should,” said Herbert, not exhibiting the least apprehension.

The stranger handled his whip, eyeing our hero viciously at the same time, as if it would have afforded him uncommon pleasure to lay it over his back.  But there was something in the look of our hero which unconsciously cowed him, and, much as he wished to strike him, he held back.

“Well, you’re a cool hand,” he said, after a moment’s hesitation.