"I suppose you are the members," I said, surveying the half-dozen.
"We have that honor," rejoined a boy named Barton, who had not yet spoken.
"And we intend to teach you a lesson," added Pultzer, a short, stout chap, whose father had once been a butcher.
"What for?"
"For your unwarranted attack upon our illustrious president."
"Your president? You mean Duncan?"
"Mr. Woodward, if you please," interrupted Duncan, loftily. "I won't have such a low-bred fellow as you calling me by my first name."
"I'm no lower bred than you are," I retorted.
"Come, none of that!"cried Moran. "We all know you well. We shall at once proceed to teach you a lesson."
I could not help smile—the whole affair seemed so ridiculous that had it not been for the rough handling I had received when pulled from the carriage, I would have considered it a joke.