“Accuse him of what he didn’t do! Didn’t he say he had hold of the string? Wolf had the pistol, too, and that proves the truth of what Waddie said. How came you by the pistol?” demanded the magnate, turning fiercely to me.
“I took it away from Waddie when he threatened to shoot me with it, and after he had fired one ball at me.”
“Do you want to make it out that my boy intended to murder you? Once more, will you confess to me, or will you have it proved before a justice?”
“I don’t care where you prove it; but I shall not confess what I didn’t do.”
“My son speaks the truth, Mrs. Penniman, though he may be a little wild sometimes.”
“There isn’t a bigger liar in town,” said I, very imprudently.
“Do you hear that, marm?” snapped the colonel. “Didn’t my son confess that he had a hand in the mischief? Doesn’t that show that he is a truthful boy? Wolf is violent and abusive. I have done what I could for your family, Mrs. Penniman.”
“I know you have, Mr. Wimpleton, and we are all very grateful to you,” replied my trembling mother.
“I should think you were! You permit this young rascal to insult and abuse me and my son. He calls me a rascal, and my son a liar. Is that his gratitude?” continued the much-abused great man. “You will hear from me again, Mrs. Penniman.”
“And you will hear from me again, Wolf Penniman. I don’t allow any fellow to call me a liar,” added Waddie, bristling up like a bantam rooster.