"Just what he done this marnin' wi' Sam," nodded the Innkeeper—"hove un out into the road, 'e did."
"And what did Sam do?" I inquired.
"Oh! Sam were mighty glad to get off so easy."
"Sam must be a very remarkable fellow—undoubtedly a philosopher," said
I.
"'E be nowt to look at!" said the Ancient.
Now at this moment there came a sudden deep bellow, a hoarse, bull-like roar from somewhere near by, and, looking round in some perplexity, through the wide doorway of the smithy opposite, I saw a man come tumbling, all arms and legs, who, having described a somersault, fell, rolled over once or twice, and sitting up in the middle of the road, stared about him in a dazed sort of fashion.
"That's Job!" nodded the Ancient.
"Poor fellow!" said I, and rose to go to his assistance.
"Oh, that weren't nothin'," said the Ancient, laying, a restraining hand upon my arm, "nothin' at all. Job bean't 'urt; why, I've seen 'em fall further nor that afore now, but y' see Job be pretty heavy handlin'—even for Black Jarge."
And, in a little while, Job arose from where he sat in the dust, and limping up, sat himself down on the opposite bench, very black of brow and fierce of eye. And, after he had sat there silent for maybe five minutes, I said that I hoped he wasn't hurt.