The passing bell still boomed on. Then the policeman, whose efforts towards maintaining peace were vain, did a definite thing, rushed up to the cowshed and stopped it.
Elsewhere Noah Pearn suffered. He had been standing rather anxiously beside his beer barrel, until some reckless spirits discovered the drink, and summoned others. Then Pearn was thrust into a ditch without ceremony, and his liquor consumed under the darkness. Many of the men present had come for miles, and those who belonged to the neighbourhood cared nothing for the publican's threats. They drank and presently emptied the barrel. Then a few intoxicated jesters began to throw earth on Weekes and William Churchward, and it was not until the parents of the two sufferers summoned aid and resolutely attacked the reckless party, that Jarratt and the bruised and battered Infant were rescued.
The torches expired and the folk at last departed. They left nothing to mark the event but a torn and trampled field, the dismembered limbs of the puppets, and the shattered timbers of their coffins.
Dawn found these things in their hideousness, and it also rose upon two men deep in conversation together. Agg and Lethbridge, appreciating the gravity of the position, had hurried home that some preparation for Daniel's coming might be made. But he did not come. They waited ready to intercept him and learn his mood and his intentions; then night passed and morning failed to bring him. Therefore they guessed that he must have followed the word of Jarratt Weekes literally, and turned his face to the sea that he might speak with Prout. They scorned the story, and dared not name it at Ruddyford. But at the earliest opportunity they despatched a telegram to Prout from Mary Tavy and warned him that he must stand between Daniel Brendon and the master.
"He'll soon calm the man down, if 'tis false, as it must be," said Agg. "Pray God no note of this gets to Sarah Jane's ears; yet that's a vain hope, for everybody on Dartymoor will be chattering of it inside twelve hours."
"I'm thinking of the man," answered Lethbridge. "If 'tis false, he'll have the hide off Jarratt Weekes for this night's work; and if 'twas true, he wouldn't stop short of——"
"'True'! Who that have ever met that clean, fearless creature would dare say it? Prout will calm the man down; but Lord pity them who get within reach of Brendon's rage when he goes into Lydford again."
"He may have believed it, however, and gone from that field and hanged himself," argued Lethbridge.
"Never! Would he wrong his wife like that—or Mr. Woodrow either? No, he ban't the sort to let a lie change him. This blackguard thing calls to be answered, and these insulted people will answer it."
"Daniel will for 'em, more likely. Master's so good as buried in real earnest and far beyond fighting; and as for Sarah Jane, 'tis her husband's part to make her name and fame sweet afore the nation."