Rhys, then engaged sowing barley on last year's turnip ground, looked as black as two thunder-clouds rolled into one, and without mincing his words gave a decided refusal.
'Willem is not a public stonemason, Robert Jones. He is now dibbling in the potato-sets, and cannot be spared. You asked me to "be just"; do you think you are just in seeking to draw him away from the farm at this busy season?' and with a very strong oath he swore 'Willem should not build walls for him or any one else.'
But the leader of the peat-cutter's team happened to carry a resonant bell, as did the leading beast of all packhorse teams, in order to warn other teamsters, or the drivers of cattle or carriages, that the narrow roadway was blocked, and one or the other must wait in the nearest broadened space provided as a refuge until the advancing team had passed and left the road clear. Such open grassy spots may still be seen in England's narrow by-ways, and there gipsies make their camps. Nay, even in the heart of busy London, old Paternoster Row is so provided with spaces where two carts may pass abreast.
The bell, set ringing through the clear March air with every motion of the mule's head, brought William leaping over runnel, ridge and furrow, and dividing fence to greet his old and true friend.
The voice of Rhys, ever loud and authoritative, now raised and vehement, reached William as he came bounding along.
'Who says I shall not build walls for any one?' he cried. 'I will, and no one here shall stop me. Do you think I mean to dig and delve all my life, and be labourer to you?'
'Labourer to me, you jackanapes? Do you think your intermittent labour pays for your sustenance? But if you quit the farm this day to go wall-building, you may quit it altogether. I am not going to wear my life away to support you in idleness. Cyphering at night, piling up stones by day, rambling off to Caerphilly Castle when you should be at work—what sort of labour do you call that?'
'Head-work; of no account with you. But, look you, I'll go and come as I please, and build walls if I please. And I don't be owning you for master. If we can but find the old lease, it may turn out the youngest son is heir and not the eldest. But let me tell you that for the toss up of a silver penny I'd quit the farm for ever, only I know that's what you do be wanting. You would be glad to get either me or Ales out to make room for Cate. But while we stay, mother do be mistress, and shall be.'
For a moment Rhys seemed dumbfounded. Then he sprang upon his brother, and grappled with him as if he would have borne him to the earth.
The fifteen years lad was thick set and sturdy, and stood his ground well, but he was no match for the man of more toughened frame and indurated muscle.