He has had a terrible time since leaving the village. Half-way down the long avenue he heard, or thought he heard, a light footfall as of one pursuing him. The more he hurried his steps, the more distinctly he heard it, and the closer it seemed to be. Near the haunted terrace, just past the marble statue, the thing, whatever it was, was all but on him, and he felt inclined to scream. There was another way out of the difficulty, and this he took. As fast as “regulation” boots could carry him, athwart the great park he fled to the one outlet he knew of except the road he came by. Breathless with his efforts he is following the hedge to find the gap. The farmer is already crouching there.
On the scuffle that followed there is no need to dwell. Little is known of it, as the combatants have never opened their mouths on the subject, and Andrew confesses to being so overcome that tears filled his eyes and prevented him from seeing through the hedge which of the two was oftenest uppermost. The combat was too furious to last long, and the opponents rose to their feet after a short time; but not before the farmer, who had by this worked off some of the rage that blinded him, had caught the glint of the constable’s buttons.
“What ded ee haave to me with that there whip for?” said the constable gasping for breath.
“I’ll tell ee what for. Dust a think I be goin’ to have me skull scat abroad wi’ that theere troonshun of yourn?”
“I must do me dooty, an’ I shud like to knaw what you’m a’ doin’ hereabouts disturbin’ the paace of the parish.”
“What do ee maan? I heerd a most ghastly noise down in the bottoms, an I’ve coomed out in the middel of the night to see what et es. The scoundrel what maade that unearthly row ought to be thrashed, an’ I took thee for un. What was ee a doin’ crawlin’ like a rabbot down the hedge like this here”—he imitated the movement of the constable—“ef thee’s nawthin’ to do with et?”
Despite his attempt to put the constable in the wrong there was a distinct change in the tone of his voice; for visions of Bodmin gaol floated before his eyes. Fortunately both saw that the least said would be the soonest mended; and after all, as the farmer would be able to recover his boots at daybreak, the only damage done was to the constable’s helmet.
“Well, look here,” said the farmer, “summons me ef thee’s got a mind to, but thee’ll be the laafin’ stock of the court. Semmen to me, we’ve made fools won of t’other; but what I do waant to knaw es, who the devil have been too—tooting ef et edden thee?—Who es eh? and wheere be un gone to?”
“Dedn thee saa no wan?”
“No wan but thee.”