But the faces of the pair told a different tale.
It was a stranger—a young farmer from two parishes away—who let off the first guffaw.
"A bet, naybours!—did 'ee hear that? Take him up, little man—he won't eat 'ee."
"I'll go ten shillin' myself, rather than miss it," announced another voice. "Ten shillin' on the bantam!"
"Get out with 'ee both," spoke up a citizen of Troy. "You don't know the men. 'Tisn't serious now—is it, Cap'n Hocken?—well as you're actin'—"
"Why not?" Cai stood, breathing hard, eyeing his adversary. "If he means it?"
"That's right! Cover his money?" cried an encouraging voice behind him.
The young farmer slapped his thigh, and ran off to the next group.
"Hi, you fellows! A match!"
He shouted it. They turned about. "What is it, Bill Crago?"—for they read in his excited gestures that he had real news.
"The fun o' the fair, boys! Two ships'-cap'ns offering to plough for a pound a side—if you ever!"