"'E do that!" chimed in Job, edging nearer; "what I sez is, if 'e do get 'is back broke, 'e aren't got nobody to blame but 'isself—so cocksure as 'e be."
"Job," said the Ancient, "hold thee tongue."
"I sez 'e's a cocksure cove," repeated Job doggedly, "an' a cocksure cove 'e be; what do 'ee think, Jarge?"
"Job," returned the smith, "I don't chuck a man into t' road and talk wi' 'im both in the same day."
In this conversation I bore no part, busying myself in drawing out a wide circle in the dust, a proceeding watched by the others with much interest, and not a few wondering comments.
"What be goin' to du wi' 'ammer, Jarge?" inquired the Ancient.
"Why," explained the smith, "this chap thinks 'e can throw it further nor me." At this there was a general laugh. "If so be 'e can," pursued Black George, "then 'e comes to work for me at 'is own price, but if I beat 'im, then 'e must stand up to me wi' 'is fists for ten minutes."
"Ten minutes!" cried a voice; "'e won't last five—see if 'e do."
"Feel sorry for un," said a second, "'e do be so pale as a sheet a'ready."
"So would you be if you was in 'is shoes!" chimed in a third; whereat there was a general laugh.