“Oh, certainly! I’ll let him alone first-rate,” laughed Tom, as he released the steed from his iron grasp.
“You puppy, you!” snapped Tommy, foaming with wrath that a plebeian, like my companion, should venture to take hold of the bridle of his pony. “How dare you touch my horse?”
“Well, I haven’t much pluck; but I didn’t want him to tread on Wolf’s corns.”
“Wolf’s a rascal, and you’re another!”
“Then we are well matched,” chuckled Tom Walton.
“If I don’t clean you fellows out of this place, it will be because I can’t!” snarled Tommy.
“What’s the matter, Major Toppleton?” I inquired, my indignation entirely appeased by the pleasant manner in which my companion had treated the case.
“Wolf, you are a traitor!” exclaimed Tommy, with emphasis.
“Well?”
“You are an adder, that bites your best friends!”