"Aha!" quoth the fellow, nodding. "He had ye whipped, belike?"
"He did so."
"For stealing of a fine, fat capon, belike?"
"Nay, 'twas for another matter. But what of him, is he hale o' body, rich and well esteemed, is he strong in friends and a power at court yet?"
"No," says Trueman, flicking his plodding horses. "Neither one nor t'other!"
"How—not?" quoth I. "And wherefore?"
"Because he's dead—"
"Dead!" says I, starting up. "Dead?"
"Why look'ee, if he ain't dead—leastways—" But here I seized him by the throat and, twisting him round, shook him to and fro till he choked:
"Rogue—damned rogue!" I cried 'twixt gnashing teeth. "Will ye mock me then!"