"What do you mean by that?" cried the young cider merchant, looking up just in time to see Isaac Lovejoy marching off with the pitcher he had been filling from a hole in the barrel made with his jack-knife.
"Stop thief! Stop thief!" cried Fred.
"That's right," said one of the big boys from over the river. "Ike's selling your cider to the men for three cents a glass."
Perhaps this was one of Isaac's jokes, and he intended to give back the money; we will hope so. But, be that as it may, Fred was terribly angry; as angry, mind you, as if he was an honest boy himself, and had a perfect right to all the coppers jingling in his own pockets!
He ran after Ike, and caught him; and there was a scuffle, in which the pitcher was broken. Mr. Chase came up to inquire into it.
"Tut, tut, Isaac!" said he; "aren't you ashamed? You know that cider was a present to the Never-Give-Ups."
The boys were astonished, and Fred's face crimsoned with shame. As soon as Mr. Chase had gone away, Willy exclaimed, with a sudden burst of wrath,—
"Well, boys, if you are going to stand such a mean lieutenant as that, I won't! If he stays in lieutenant, I won't stay captain—so there!"
"Three cheers for the captain!" cried the boys; and there was another uproar.
And how did Fred feel towards the fearless, out-spoken Willy? Very angry, of course; but, if you will believe me, he respected him more than ever. Pompous boys are often mean-spirited and cowardly; they will browbeat those who are afraid of them; but those who look down on them and despise them, they hold in the highest esteem. Willy had never scrupled to tell Fred just what he thought of his conduct; and for that very reason Fred liked him better than any other boy in town.