“Now, my man, just tell us what’s the matter.” The man was beginning to tell them how wantonly his ropes had been cut, and he himself insulted, when Bruce broke in, “That’s a lie, you beggar; we asked you to move, and you wouldn’t. I’ll have you in prison yet, my fine fellow, you’ll see.”
“And if I don’t make you pay for they ropes, you young pink-and-white monkey, my name ain’t Jem—that’s all.”
“Did anybody see what really took place?” asked the don, cutting short the altercation.
“Yes, I did,” said Lillyston instantly; “the fellow was civil enough, and began to back his horses the moment I told him there was a race, when these gentlemen ran up, abused him, struck him, and cut the ropes.”
“Ay, it’s all very fine for you gentlefolk,” said the man with bitter scorn, “to take away a poor man’s living for your pleasure. How do you think I’m to pay for them ropes? Am I to take the bread out of the children’s mouths, let alone being kicked and speered at? Hang you all, I ain’t afeard o’ none o’ you; come on, the whole lot o’ you to one. I ain’t afeard—not I,” he said again, glaring round like a bull at bay, and stripping an arm of iron strength.
“I never cut your ropes, you brute,” said Bruce, between his teeth, “though you wouldn’t move when we asked you civilly.”
“What’s that, then?” said the man, pointing to a bit of rope two inches long which Bruce still held dangling in his hand.
“I’m afraid you forget the facts, Bruce, in your excitement,” said Lillyston, very sternly.
“Facts or not, I’ll have you up for assault,” said Bruce affectedly, wringing the mud out of his wet sleeve.
“Have me up for assault,” mimicked the man, trying to mince his broad rough accents into Bruce’s delicate tones; and he condescended to add no more, but turned round to catch his horses, which had trotted through the open gate of a neighbouring field, and were now quietly grazing.