To them
Captain Josh paid no heed, but stood glowering over his victim. When
he saw that he was subdued he let go his grip, and stepped back a
couple of paces.
"Now, git up!" he demanded.
As Tom made no effort to obey, the captain leaned forward, caught him
once more in his mighty grip, and lifted him to his feet.
"Stand there, ye wobbly-kneed cur!" he cried.
"I'll have the law of ye," Tom wailed. "If there's B-b-british
justice, you'll git it!"
"H'm," the captain snorted. "Ye talk about British justice. Ye may
thank yer stars at this very minute that the law hasn't its grip upon
ye fer tryin' to kill a harmless boy. But I'll do it instead. I'll be
the British justice, judge, lawyers, jury, and the whole dang concern
combined. Now, look here, Tom Bunker, you apologise to that youngster
fer what ye did to him this mornin'."
Tom's face, livid with rage, took a darker tinge at this command. More
on-lookers had now arrived, who jeered and hooted the unfortunate man.
It was a great joke to see the boaster at length brought low by quaint
old Captain Josh. Such a thing didn't happen every day, and they could
well afford to lose any amount of time to see the fun. But it was far
from fun for the victim of their sport.
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