with another," concluded that human events could wait, and
ceasing to read, he gave his attention to the speaker.

"If ye think to frighten or grieve me, ye are mightily out,"
he trumpeted loudly. "Hitherto Britain has dealt gently
with ye, but now ye'll feel the full force of her wrath. A six
weeks will serve to bring the whole pack of ye to your knees,
whining for pardon."

The prediction was greeted with a chorus of gibes and protests,
and on the instant the squire was the centre of a struggling
mass of militiamen and villagers, who roughly pulled him
from his horse. But before they could do more, the colonel
of the troops and the parson interfered, loudly commanding
the mob to desist from all violence; and with ill grace and with
muttered threats and angry noddings of heads, the crowd, one
by one, went back to their glasses. That the interference was
none too prompt was shown by the condition of the squire, for
his hat, peruke, and ruffles were all lying on the ground in
tatters, his coat was ripped down the back, and one sleeve
hung by a mere shred.

"You do wrong to anger the people unnecessarily, sir,"
said Mr. McClave, sternly. "Dost court ducking or other violence?
Common prudence should teach you to be wiser."

The squire hastily climbed into the saddle. From that
vantage point he replied, "Ye need not think Lambert Meredith
is to be frightened into dumbness. But there are some who
will talk smaller ere long." Then, acting more prudently than