"What's this?" he asked haughtily. "Why have you meddled?"
Askew looked hard at him, but answered in a quiet voice, "It cost us some trouble to mend the bank, and if you dig out the otter the stream will soon make an ugly gap."
"Then it's a matter of the cost!" said Thorn. "How much?"
"Not altogether," Askew replied, coloring. "It's a matter of the damage the next flood may do. We had an awkward job to strengthen the bank and I'm not going to have it cut."
"Noo, Kit, dinna spoil sport," the old huntsman urged. "It's none a trick for a canny lad to cheat the hounds."
"Put terrier in an' niver mind him!" shouted another, and there were cries of approval.
"Stop digging, Tom," Askew said with quiet firmness. "Pick up the dog."
"We are wasting time," Thorn remarked. "I don't like bargaining; you had better state your price."
Grace, looking on across the broken hedge, sympathized with the farmer. For one thing, she wanted the otter to escape; besides, she approved the man's resolute quietness. He had pluck, since it was plain that he was taking an unpopular line, and he used some self-control, because Thorn's tone was strongly provocative. In fact, she thought Thorn was not at his best; he was not entitled to suggest that the other was trying to extort as much money as he could.
"No more do I like bargaining," Askew replied. "There will be no digging here. You have smashed the hedge, and that's enough. Call off your dogs."