Dirk named twice as much as he would have taken.
“Half that, you mean.” And the usual haggle began.
“Tell thee what,” said Dirk at last, “I am a man who has his fancies; and this shall be her price; half thy bid, and a box on the ear.”
The demon of covetousness had entered Dirk’s heart. What if he got the money, brained or at least disabled the stranger, and so had a chance of selling the mare a second time to some fresh comer?
“Thou art a strange fellow,” quoth the horse-dealer. “But so be it.”
Dirk chuckled. “He does not know,” thought he, “that he has to do with Dirk Hammerhand,” and he clenched his fist in anticipation of his rough joke.
“There,” quoth the stranger, counting out the money carefully, “is thy coin. And there—is thy box on the ear.”
And with a blow which rattled over the fen, he felled Dirk Hammerhand to the ground.
He lay senseless for a moment, and then looked wildly round. His jaw was broken.
“Villain!” groaned he. “It was I who was to give the buffet, not thou!”