“Oh, I beg pardon, Squire Brackett—always take you for Cap’n Kendrick—strange how you do look so much alike.”
“You little idiot,” yelled the choleric squire, “I’d Cap’n Kendrick you with a rawhide, if I had the say of you,—insulting an honest man with a name like that,—every one of you ought to be in State prison. And you, you’re the worst one of all, Jack Harvey,” pointing to the latter, who had just come upon the wharf. “And you, too!” shaking his fist at Tom and Bob. “You’re sly, but you’ll get caught yet. You’re a pack of young rascals, every one of you. Don’t any of you come around my house, if you don’t want to be chewed up. Here, you brute! Quit that!”
“‘YOU’RE THE WORST ONE OF ALL, JACK HARVEY’”
The dog had snapped viciously at a child that ran past, causing her to scream with fear.
Just then the freight-agent called out to the squire:
“You’ll have to come in here and see about this freight of yours,” he said. “It’s all mixed up. And don’t bring that dog in here, or the crew may take him for a piece of freight and run a truck against him.”
At one corner of the freight-house on the wharf was a big iron ring, to which the squire tied the dog.
“I wouldn’t advise anybody to meddle with him,” he said; but the advice seemed hardly necessary, for the dog showed its teeth and sprang savagely at any one who ventured to come near.
There were some expressions of indignation that such a dangerous brute should be brought to the island.