The moment this man's eye caught that of Zita, he raised his great hat, flourished it in the air, exposing a shaggy head with long dark locks, and he shouted, 'Well done, girl! I like that. Give me a pair of them there ashen flails, and here's a crown for your pluck.'
'I haven't a pair,' said the girl.
'Then I'll have that one, with which a little gal of sixteen has licked our Fen louts. I like that.'
'I'll give you a crown for that flail,' called another man, from the farther side of the crowd. 'Here you are—a crown.'
This man was fair, with light whiskers—a tall man as well as the other, and about the same age.
'I'll give you seven shillings and six—a crown and half a crown for that flail,' roared the dark man. 'I bid first—I want that flail.'
'Two crowns—ten shillings,' called the fair man. 'I can make a better offer than Drownlands— not as I want the flail, but as Drownlands wants it, he shan't have it.'
'Twelve and six,' roared the dark man. 'Gold's no object with me. What I wants I will have.'
The lookers-on nudged each other. A young farmer said to his fellow, 'Them chaps, Runham and Drownlands, be like two tigers; when they meet they must fight. We shall have fun.'
'You are a fool!' shouted the fair man,—'a fool—that is what I think you are, to give twelve and six for what isn't worth two shillings. I'll let you have it at that price, that you may become the laughing-stock of the Fens.'