The prospect was far from pleasant to our hero. In spite of his bravery, he shivered as he saw the gang of masked boys start up a fire over which to heat the tar.
“So you intend to tar and feather me,” he said to the leader.
“You’ve struck it, Jerry Upton.”
“All right, Si Peters, do it, and you shall go to prison, mark my words.”
Jerry had only guessed at the identity of the leader, but he had hit upon the truth.
“Who told you I was”—began Peters, and broke off short. “You’re mistaken,” he went on in his assumed voice.
“I am not mistaken, Si Peters. I know you, and you had best remember what I say.”
“Oh, you’re too fresh, Upton, and we’re going to teach you a lesson,” put in another of the crowd.
“A good coat of tar and feathers is just what your system needs.”
“We’ll paint you up so artistically that even your own mother won’t know you.”