“I would have word with your captain,” he said to the sentinel at the door.
“He's in thar,” said the soldier, pointing to the door of the headquarters' room. Perez, who was walking to and fro, turned at the opening door and respectfully greeted the parson.
“Are you the captain of the armed band without?”
“I am.”
“You have certain gentlemen in confinement, I have heard. I came to see you on account of an extraordinary report that you had threatened to inflict a disgraceful public chastisement upon their persons. No doubt the report is erroneous. You surely could not contemplate so cruel and scandalous a proceeding?”
“The report is entirely true, reverend sir. I am but waiting for a certain Hessian drummer who will wield the lash.”
“But man,” exclaimed the parson, “you have forgotten that these are the first men in the county. They are gentlemen of distinguished birth and official station. You would not whip them like common offenders. It is impossible. You are beside yourself. Such a thing was never heard of. It is most criminal, most wicked. As a minister of the gospel I protest! I forbid such a thing,” and the little parson fairly choked with righteous indignation.
“These men, if they had succeeded in their plan last night, would have whipped me, and a score of others to-day. Would you have protested against that?”
“That is different. They would have proceeded against you as criminals, according to law.”
“No doubt they would have proceeded according to law,” replied Perez, with a bitter sneer. “They have been proceeding according to law for the past six years here in Berkshire, and that's why the people are in rebellion. I'm no lawyer, but I know that Perez Hamlin is as good as Jahleel Woodbridge, whatever the parson may think, and what he would have done to me, shall be done to him.”