Another minute and Peleg had arrived at the fence, and bending over held the lantern so that its light fell upon the figure of his captive.
"Gut ye, have I? Mebbe ye'll try to paint some critters of mine agin, an' mebbe ye won't!" said the farmer, as he raised the ugly black whip which he held, with the evident intention of bringing it down good and hard on the helpless boy.
"Wait, Mr. Growdy!" Paul hastened to exclaim.
The old man laughed harshly as he flourished the whip. Perhaps he had never struck a boy before in all his life, and hardly knew how to begin; but his temper was plainly disturbed, and he meant to make a start.
"What should I wait fur, when I cort ye in the very act? Paint my critters red, white an' blue, will ye? P'raps ye wanted to pull all the feathers out o' my flock o' chickens this time, an' think it funny. Sarve ye right if I gi'e ye a dozen stripes!"
"Mr. Growdy, I did you a favor once!" said the prisoner of the trap, wishing to keep the old man as long as possible from starting operations.
"Say ye so? Wall, this wipes it out then. Who air ye, anyway?"
The farmer bent lower, and thrust his lantern so that its light would fall upon the face of the boy. Immediately he uttered a grunt, for it was plain that he had recognized his captive.
"So, it's ye, is it, Paul Morrison? This is some surprise, seein' as ye're the last boy I'd expect to be up ter sech meanness. What d'ye think yer father'll say w'en he hears 'bout this?"
"I guess he'll laugh, and say it was about the cutest trick ever played on you, Mr. Growdy," came the immediate answer; "but please get me down from this. Perhaps the blood will all run to my head. Tie my hands if you want, and fix it so I can't run away; but I couldn't stand this long."
"So ye think yer father'd larf, do ye? I never wud 'a' b'lieved Doctor Morrison was the kind o' man to encourage practical jokes on anybody," grumbled the old man, plainly at a loss to understand what was meant.
"Well, he isn't, and I'd be sorry to have him know I was guilty of such a thing. But you're barking up the wrong tree, Mr. Growdy, I give you my word we none of us had any trick in mind when we came here to-night."
"Then what took you in my dooryard here; for I heard a pack runnin' away when I kim out of the house? Tell me that, Paul," insisted the farmer; but the hand that held that cruel looking whip had fallen to his side, which was a good sign.