"Just what I say, dad. Little pitchers have big ears. Well, the big ears have heard that you hate Ethan Allen."
"Well?"
"You would get the reward if you could."
"Well?"
"Swear that you will never hit me again——"
"I will not. Come here, you rapscalion, and I'll teach you to make a laughingstock of me."
Zeb saw his father pick up the stick again, and he got into the corner, and picking up a chair, held it so that his father could not strike him.
"See here, father," he said, very quietly, "you are stronger than I am. You have a right to whip me, and I perhaps deserve it; that isn't saying much, but it's enough. Now I want to tell you that if you strike me I'll leave you this very night, and either join the Green Mountain Boys, or I'll get the reward and go to York and never see you again."
"What has come over you?"
"Nothing, only I see a way to make some money for you, or myself, and I'll give it to you if you swear never to strike me again."