Tregarva shook his head.
‘I doubt that, sir. But, no doubt, there’s a great change for the better in the parsons. I remember the time, sir, that there wasn’t an earnest clergyman in the vale; and now every other man you meet is trying to do his best. But those London parsons, sir, what’s the matter with them? For all their societies and their schools, the devil seems to keep ahead of them sadly. I doubt they haven’t found the right fly yet for publicans and sinners to rise at.’
A distant shot in the cover.
‘There they are, sir. I thought that Crawy wouldn’t lead me false when I let him off.’
‘Well, fight away, then, and win. I have promised Miss Lavington not to lift a hand in the business.’
‘Then you’re a lucky man, sir. But the squire’s game is his own, and we must do our duty by our master.’
There was a rustle in the bushes, and a tramp of feet on the turf.
‘There they are, sir, sure enough. The Lord keep us from murder this night!’ And Tregarva pulled off his neckcloth, and shook his huge limbs, as if to feel that they were all in their places, in a way that augured ill for the man who came across him.
They turned the corner of a ride, and, in an instant, found themselves face to face with five or six armed men, with blackened faces, who, without speaking a word, dashed at them, and the fight began; reinforcements came up on each side, and the engagement became general.
‘The forest-laws were sharp and stern,
The forest blood was keen,
They lashed together for life and death
Beneath the hollies green.