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.