“Ah, that’s righteous! That’s gospel! We want our sport!”
“Chaps,” says Kester, very pleading, “it be pity on so fine a day to set
one poor creature to tear another. Devil’s work, it be. If it’s fighting
you want, why canna you wrostle, or box man to man? Look ye! To make a
bit of sport, I’ll take any six of ye on, one after other, to wrostle.
The one that beats me by most shall take my coat, and the next shall
take my hat and weskit. Now then!”
Nobody said anything, only they shuffled a bit, and looked here and
there. Everybody seemed to know that Kester was a very good wrostler,
and nobody seemed to take to the job. Mister Grimble looked at Kester as
if he hated him. And it was plain, by what came next, that he did, in
very truth. For now, having made up his mind not to play second any more
to Mister Huglet, he up and said—
“The young man speaks well. Now, I’ll fall in with all he says and agree
to the stopping of the baiting this day, on one condition.”
“Out with it,” says Kester.
“That you take on the dawgs yerself.”
Mister Grimble gave a spiteful cackling laugh, and Mister Huglet roared
agen.
“Got ye there, me lad!” he shouted. And Grimble said—
“You may love the dumb creatures ooth yer purse, but ye wunna go so far
as to love em ooth yer own blood!”
“Go on with the baiting!” orders Mister Huglet.
“Tie the beast up agen,” says Mister Callard to his missus, who was
standing by, eager to hand it over to Kester, so as he could give it
back as he said.
“Whose dawg drew first?”
Mister Huglet took no more notice of Kester, but went on with the
arrangements.
“Mister Towler’s dawg drew first, and _Mug o’ Cider_ second,” said one
of the owners of the bull-ring.
“Come forrard, Towler.”
Kester stood very still, eyeing Mister Grimble till he got quite put
about. For he didna seem to want to meet Kester’s eye.
“That ud be the best bit of sport ever you had, eh, Mister Grimble?”
says Kester at last. “To see a man baited like a bull.”
“Why, nobody ud be such a fool.”
Kester looked round.
“Chaps!” he says, “if so be as I agree to Mister Grimble’s plan and take
on the dogs one by one, not to kill ’em, but to put ’em on chain with
nought but my bare hands, and they as savage as you like, if I do this
at my own risk, will ye give it me in writing as there wunna be another
baiting in Lullingford for ten years? And if I fail to put any dog on
chain, I’ve lost and the baiting goes on.”
Everybody’s tongue was loosed at that.
“God bless me!”
“Dear to goodness!”
“Domm it!”
“Well, that beats all, dang it!”
“Daze my ’ouns!”
There was a regular clack of voices.
One or two called out that they wouldna agree to it. But mostly they
were very curious to see what would come of it, and as it was known that
the parson didna like the baitings and had been werriting the squire to
put a stop to them, everybody thought they might be stopped soon anyway,
and so they might as well have the fun, for this was a chance of rare
sport, and the like of it had never been seen in the place.
When Mister Huglet could speak for laughing, he explained to all the
people what was doing.
“Hands up for it!” he called out.
All but about a dozen held up their hands.
“Done!” says Mister Huglet “And done _for_, my fine feller!”
I caught hold of Miller’s Tim and told him to go to Kester and whisper
as Grimble’s dog was a new one, and extra bad in temper. But indeed I
felt that neither this nor anything was any manner of use, and I couldna
think of ought to do. But one thing I was determined on, I’d keep nigh
him, and when he was down I’d rush in and drag him away, and if Grimble
interfered it ud be the worse for un. There’s none so fierce as a loving
woman, and it always seemed a strange thing to me that the Mother of
Jesus could keep her hands off the centurion, and it could only have
been because her Son had given orders afore. But indeed if it had been
me, I think I should have forgot the orders.
Tim came running back, and I saw those strong blue eyes follow and
settle on me for a breath. Then I hid behind Missis Callard.
“He knowed it,” says Tim. “But obleeged all the same.”
I went to the refreshment booth and stole the carving-knife. But almost
afore it was hidden under my flounced skirt I saw that there was to be
no need of it, anyway for a while. There was to be summat more like a
miracle than anything I’ve seen afore. This was the way of it.
“Go to the mid of the wall,” says Huglet, “and fasten the dawgs to the
bull chain. And if you fasten either of mine, I’ll give ye five
shilling, me lad! Oh, I could bust a-laughing to see anybody be such a
fool!”
“Mister Towler’s dawg!” says the head of the ring.
“Ready!”
They loosed Towler’s terrier, the savagest little beast in the place.
“At ’im! Bite ’im!” shouts Towler, and I was like to faint. And then it
came to pass.
Kester stepped forward.
“Well, Bingo!” he says. “Good dog!”
Bingo stopped, looked at Towler as much as to say he’d made a mistake,
and ran to Kester as pleased as Punch, wagging tail and fawning round.
“We be friends, binna we?” says Kester.
Towler gave a curse, and Huglet looked as black as night. But nobody
could say it wunna fair and square, and some of the better sort laughed
and said, “Good for you, lad!”
It was the same with the _Mug o’ Cider_ dog, and the next. As the owners
came up to fetch them when they were on the chain, they looked very
old-fashioned and taken aback.
Kester laughed.
“I like a dog,” he says. “Dumb things be my fancy. You couldna know it,
but so it is, and I can only see one dog here as inna friend to me,
being new-come to these parts.”
“Ah,” says Grimble, “you wunna play yer May-games with Toby. Indeed to
goodness, if you get off with your life you’ll do well.”
All in a minute I thought of a better thing than the carving-knife,
though I kept that in case of need. I’d run to the town for the
apothecary, there being no doctor in the place, to have him there in
case of harm. There were a sight more dogs yet, for they wouldna let him
off any. There met be time if I was quick. So, with the carving-knife
still under my dress, I edged out of the crowd, got into the road and
ran for dear life. But afore I went, I took one look at him I did love,
since if I wasna quick enough I might never see him alive again.
He was laughing, and Huglet was leading one of his dogs away. Though
Kester didna weave for Huglet, he’d made friends with his dogs on market
days, outside the _Mug o’ Cider_, seemingly. He’d such a way with
animals that a tuthree minutes was enough, and they were friends to him
for ever.
And as I looked back, it seemed to me, though I told myself it must be
fancy, that those eyes, so live and bright, dwelt on me, and smiled at
me, friended me and pled with me, being as are the eyes of a man when he
looks long upon his dear acquaintance, who has given her peace for his,
her soul to his keeping, and her body for his joy.