“Go ahead,” said Abner, ruefully, “I hain't got nothin ter say. Ye kin sass me all ye wanter. Every one on ye kin take yer hack at me. I'm kinder sorry thar ain't any on ye big nuff ter kick me, fer I orter be kicked.” “Never mind, Abner,” said Perez, pitying his humiliated condition. “Anybody may get too much flip now and then. We missed you, but we managed to get through with the job all right.” “Cap'n,” said Abner, “I was bleeged ter ye w'en ye pulled them two Britshers or'fer me tew Stillwater, but that ain't a sarcumstance to the way I be bleeged to ye this mornin, fer it's all your doins, and no thanks ter me, that I ain't gittin ten lashes this very minute, with all the women a snickerin at the size o' my back. I hev been kinder cocky, an I hev put on some airs, ez these fellers says, fer I callated ye'd kinder washed yer hands o' this business, an leff me tew be capin, but arter this ye'll fine Abner Rathbun knows his place.” “You were quite right about it, Abner. I have washed my hands of the business. I am going to take my folks out to York State. I meant to start this morning. If the silk stockings had waited till to-night they wouldn't have found me in their way.” “I callate twuz Providenshil they did'n wait, fer we'd 'a been gone suckers sure ez ye hedn't been on hand to dew wat ye did,” said one of the men. “Thar ain't another man in town ez could a did it, or would dast try.” “But ye ain't callatin ter go arter this be ye, Perez?” said Abner. “This makes no difference. I expect to get off to-morrow,” replied Perez. “Ye shan't go, not ef I hold ye,” cried Mrs. Poor, edging up to him as if about to secure his person on the spot. “Ef ye go the res' on us mout 's well go with ye, fer the silk stockins 'll hev it all ther own way then,” remarked a farmer, gloomily. “I don't think the silk stockings will try any more tricks right off,” said Perez, grimly. “I propose to give em a lesson this morning, which they'll be likely to remember for one while.” “What be ye a gonter dew to em?” asked Abner, eagerly. “Well,” said Perez, deliberately, as every eye rested on him. “You see they had set their minds on havin some whipping done this morning, and I don't propose to have em disappointed. I'm going to do to them as they would have done to us. The whipping will come off as soon as Abe can find Little Pete to handle the gad. I sent him off some time ago. I don' see what's keeping him.” His manner was as quiet and matter-of-course as if he were proposing the most ordinary sort of forenoon occupation, and when he finished speaking he walked away without so much as a glance around to see how the people took it. It was nevertheless quite worth observing, the fascinated stare with which they looked after him, and then turned to fix on each other. It was Abner who, after several moments of dead silence, said in an awed voice, like a loud whisper: “He's a gonter whip em.” And Obadiah almost devoutly murmured, “By Gosh!”