, his father
pacing heavily up and down, and his friend Captain Galsworthy
fending off the prying onlookers with his cane.

"I'll thrash the villain to a pulp! I'll send him to the
plantations, I will! I'll break every bone in his body!"

So Mr. Vetch roared and, much as I disliked him, I could not but
feel a certain compassion, too, for all the world knew how he doted
on his son. I looked around for Joe Punchard, to see whether he was
in hearing of these threats, but he was not among the crowd.

By and by came Mr. Pinhorn, the surgeon, and some while after him
four lads bearing a stretcher, upon which the unconscious form of
my enemy was conveyed slowly up the town to Mr. Vetch's house on
Pride Hill. I followed on the edge of the crowd until I saw the
doors close upon the bearers, and then I betook myself home, in
sore distress at the fate in store for my friend Joe Punchard, and
in some terror lest I should share it, the mad freak of which he
was guilty having been performed on my behalf.

Chapter 2: Joe Breaks His Indentures.

It was so much later than my usual hour for returning from school
that I was not surprised to see Mistress Pennyquick at the gate of
our farm, shading her eyes against the westering sun as she looked
for me up the road. I endeavored to compose my countenance so as to
betray no sign of the excitement through which I had passed; but
the attempt failed lamentably, and when the good creature began to
question me, I burst into tears. This was so rare an occurrence
with me that she was mightily concerned and adjured me to tell all,
promising that if I had done wrong she would shield me from my
father's anger. And when in answer to this I told her what Joe
Punchard had done to Cyrus Vetch, and the terrible things I had
heard the alderman threaten against him, she laughed and said I was
too tender hearted for a boy, and Joe Punchard would be none the
worse for a basting, and a deal more to the same tune, which almost
broke through my determination to say nothing of what had caused
the mischief; for, after all, Dick Cludde and Cyrus Vetch were my
schoolfellows, and, in my day; for one boy to tell on another was
the unpardonable sin.

My father came in soon after, and when he heard so much of the
story as I had told Mistress Pennyquick he drew his fingers through
his beard and said in his quiet way: "To be sure, barrels were not
made for that kind of vetch!"

And then we sat down to suppe