And, after some while, the dust subsiding a little, the startled company beheld Sergeant Zebedee Tring sitting astride his antagonist who writhed feebly and groaned fitfully. Seated thus the Sergeant proceeded to re-settle his neat wig which had shed much of its powder, to tuck up his ruffles and to dust the marks of combat from his garments; having done which to his satisfaction and recovered his wind meantime, he addressed the gaping company.
"One o' you sons o' dirt bring me my hat!" The article in question being promptly handed to him, he put it on, with due care for the curls of his wig and glared round upon each of the spectators in turn:
"Now if," said he at last, "if there's any other vermin-rogue has got aught to say agin his betters, two in particular, I shall be happy to tear his liver out and kick same through winder! Is there now?"
Ensued a silence broken only by a faint groaning from the obsequious Joe; whereupon the Sergeant proceeded:
"You will all o' you notice as I'm sitting on this here piece o' filth as is shaped like a man—I don't like to, but I do it because he won't stand up and fight, if he would—ah, if he only would, I'd have his liver so quick as never was, d'ye see, because he spoke dirt regarding two o' the sweetest, noblest folk as brightens this here dark world. Further and moreover I, now a-sitting on this piece o' rottenness, do give warning doo—warning to all and sundry, to each and every—that if ever a one o' you says the like again—ah, or whispers same, in my hearing or out, that man's liver is going to be took out and throwed on the nearest dung-hill where same belongs. Finally and lastly, if there's ever a one o' you as feels inclined to argufy the point let him now speak or for ever hold his peace and be damned! Is there now?"
As no one breathed a word, the Sergeant sighed, rose from the moaning Joseph and, crossing the room, picked up his battered tankard and shook gloomy head over it; then, handing it to the round-eyed landlord, sighed again:
"That'll be the second tankard I shall ha' paid for in the last six weeks, Jem," said he, "I do seem oncommon misfort'nate with pewter-ware!"
So saying, he nodded and turning his back on the silent and chastened company, marched blithely homeward.
Now presently as he went, he was surprised to see the Major, who stood beside the way, his hands crossed upon his crab-tree staff, his laced hat a little askew, his grey eyes staring very hard at a weatherbeaten stile. As the Sergeant drew near, he started, and lifting his gaze, nodded.
"Ha, Zeb," said he, thoughtfully, "I'm faced with a problem of no small magnitude, Zeb—a question of no little difficulty!" and he became lost in contemplation of a lark carolling high overhead.