stronger. The better man throweth the worse, and the worse is well

served. Ye deserve a belting, Master Matcham, for your ill-guidance and

unthankfulness to meward; and what ye deserve ye shall have."

And Dick, who, even in his angriest temper, still preserved the

appearance of composure, began to unbuckle his belt.

Here shall be your supper," he said, grimly. Matcham had stopped his

tears; he was as white as a sheet, but he looked Dick steadily in the

face, and never moved. Dick took a step, swinging the belt. Then he

paused, embarrassed by the large eyes and the thin, weary face of his

companion. His courage began to subside.

"Say ye were in the wrong, then," he said, lamely.

"Nay," said Matcham, "I was in the right. Come, cruel! I be lame; I be

weary; I resist not; I ne'er did thee hurt; come, beat me--coward!"

Dick raised the belt at this last provocation, but Matcham winced and

drew himself together with so cruel an apprehension, that his heart

failed him yet again. The strap fell by his side, and he stood

irresolute, feeling like a fool.

A plague upon thee, shrew!" he said. "An ye be so feeble of hand, ye

should keep the closer guard upon your tongue. But I'll be hanged before

I beat you!" and he put on his belt again. "Beat you I will not," he

continued; "but forgive you?--never. I knew ye not; ye were my master's

The Black Arrow