"Hi, hi, my springalds! what meaneth all this vaporing and noise? What's amiss, Lister?"
"It matters not what's amiss John Billington. Pass on and attend to thine own affairs."
"Lister's afraid to tell that he carrieth stolen goods in his doublet and lies about them into the bargain," sneered Edward Dotey.
"I lie do I, thou base-born coward! Lie thou there, then!"
And Edward Lister with one generous buffet stretched his opponent upon the pile of firewood they had been hewing a little way from the town.
Billington who had wandered in that direction with his gun upon his shoulder looking for game, helped the fallen man to his feet and officiously fingered a bruise rising upon his cheek.
"Hi! Hi! But here's a coil! He's wounded thee sorely, Dotey! I'm witness that he assaulted thee, with intent to kill like enough. Canst stand?"
"Let me go, let me at him, leave go of my arm John Billington! I'll soon show thee"—
"Nay Ned," interposed Lister, as Billington with a malignant grin upon his face half hindered, half permitted Dotey's struggles to free himself from the poacher's sinewy arms. "Nay, man, I meant not to draw e'en so much blood as trickles down thy cheek"—
"He meant to draw it by the bucketful and not in drops," interpreted Billington. "And now he tries to crawl off. Take thy knife to him, man; nay, get ye both your swords and hack away at each other until we see which is the better bird. 'T is long since I saw a main"—