“Why, sir, Potter frit’ they rogues praper, I rackon. They cut off amazin’ quick, an’ they ain’t like to come back—an’ yet they may. So up wi’ ye, sir, an’ quick’s the word!” Sir John arose but, clapping hand to head, reeled weakly. “Be your ’ead ’urted bad, sir?”
“Nothing to mention, thanks to my hat and wig.”
“Can ye ride, sir?”
“Easier than walk.”
“Well, up it is, then!” And, half lifting Sir John to the saddle, Mr. Potter laid a shapeless bundle across the withers and they set off together.
“How came you so fortunately to my relief, George?”
“Well, sir, I happed to be a-waitin’ for Mus’ Sturton an’ ... t’other ’un, meanin’ to frutten Sturton away an’ get t’other ’un alone if so might be, when ’long comes ’alf a dozen chaps wi’ this ’ere ’orse an’ you acrost it, though I didn’t know ’twas you then, sir. But suddent-like, t’other ’un says, ‘Why not finish ’im and ha’ done?’ ’e says. ‘Because I wun’t ’ave it!’ says Sturton, very determinated.”
“’T’other ’un’ being the man Jonas Skag, I think?” inquired Sir John.
“Why, sir, I wun’t deny it. Well, sir, they stops purty nigh wheer I wur a-hidin’ to arg’ the matter, an’ I soon found ’twas you they was a-quarrellin’ over. An’ presently on they goes an’ me creepin’ arter ’em bidin’ a chance to do what I might.”