doan't knaw what you mean by that, sir."
"No matter. You will some day, and feel extremely flattered if people congratulate you before you've told them. If you simply adore one girl, Sally, you love them all!"
"Gude Lard! Ban't so along wi' us. If we'm sweet in wan plaace, we'm shy in t'others."
"Only one man in the world for you, then?"
"Ess—awnly wan."
"He's a lucky chap. Mind that I know all about it in good time, Sally. You shall have a fine wedding present, I promise you—whatever you like, in fact."
"Things ban't come to that yet; though thank you kindly, sir, I'm sure."
"Well, they will."
"He haven't axed ezacally yet."
"Ass! Fool! Dolt! But perhaps he's in mortal fear of you—frightened to speak and not able to trust his pen. You're too good for him, Sally, and he knows it."
"I be his awn order in life, for that matter."
"I see, I see; it's this hidden flame burning in you that made you so quick to find out our secret. I love you for it! I love every pretty face in Devonshire, because my lady is pretty; and every young woman on Dartmoor, because my lady is young. Can you understand that?"
"No, I caan't," confessed Sally. "'Tis fulishness."
"Not at all. At this moment I could positively hug you—not disrespectfully, you know, but just out of love—for Miss Endicott."
"It do make a man dangerous seemin'ly—this gert love of a lady."
"Not at all. Far from it. It draws his claws. He goes in chains. Did anybody ever dare to hug you, Sally?"
"No fay! Should like to have seed 'em!"
"You wouldn't have minded one though?"
"Caan't say, as he never offered to."
"D'you mean he's never even kissed you, Sally?"
"Wance he axed if he might."
"'Axed'! And of course you said 'No' like any other girl would?"
"Ess, I did."
"Fancy asking!"
"What should he have done then?"
It was a dangerous inquiry on Miss Cramphorn's part, and it is within the bounds of possibility that she knew it. Had she been aware that her sole parent was glaring, like an angry monkey, from a point in the hedge within six yards of her, Sally had scarcely put that disingenuous problem. The answer came instantly. Honor's pup fell headlong into the road and greeted its descent with a yell; like lightning a pair of tweed-clad arms were round Sally, and a rough, amber-coloured moustache against her lips.
"Sir—give awver! How dare 'e! What be doin' of? You'm squeezin' me—oh——!"
There was a crash in the hedge, the bark of a dog and the oath of a man. Then Christopher felt himself suddenly seized by the collar and dragged backwards. He turned red as the sunset, swore in his turn, then realised that no less a personage than Jonah Cramphorn had been witness to his folly. Trembling with rage, Bear Down's head man accosted the squire of Little Silver.
"You! You to call yourself a gen'leman! Out 'pon 'e—to rape a gal under her faither's awn eyes! By God, 'tis time your wicked thread was cut an' Yeolands did cease out of the land! Small wonder they'm come down to——"
"Shut your mouth, you fool!" retorted Christopher savagely. "How dare you lay a finger upon me? I'll have you up for breaking other people's hedges, and, what's more, I've a mind to give you a damned good hiding myself."
"You tell like that, you hookem-snivey young blackguard! I'd crack your blasted bones like a bad egg—an' gude riddance tu! Ban't she my awn darter, an' wasn't you carneying an' cuddlin' of her in broad day? 'Struth! I could spit blood to think such things can happen! An' me to be threatened by you! You'll hide me—eh? Thank your stars I didn't shoot 'e. An' if I'd slayed the pair of 'e 'twouldn't have been no gert loss to clean-livin' folks!"
"I'm ashamed of you, Cramphorn—reading evil into everything that happens," said Yeoland calmly.
"God stiffen it! Hear him! Hear him! Preachin' my duty to me. You lewd, stalled ox, for two pins——"
"Put that gun down or I'll break it over your head!" answered Christopher; but the other, now a mere maniac, shaking and dancing with passion, refused. Whereupon Yeoland rushed at him, twisted the gun out of his hands, and threw it upon the ground. The next moment Jonah had hit his enemy in the face with a big fist; Christopher struck back, Sally screamed, and Cramphorn spit blood in earnest. Then they closed, and Jonah's dog, grasping the fact that his master was in difficulties, and needed assistance, very properly fastened on one of Yeoland's leathern leggings and hung there, as both men tumbled into the road.
The girl wrung her hands, lifted her voice and screamed to the only being visible—a man with a cart of peat outlined against the sunset on the heather ridges of the Moor. But he was a mile distant and quite beyond reach of poor Sally's frantic appeal. Then both combatants rose, and Cramphorn, returning to battle, got knocked off his feet again. At the same moment a man came round the corner of the road, and mended his steps upon hearing a frenzied announcement that two fellow-creatures were killing each other. A moment later he hastened between the combatants, took a hard blow or two from both, swept Christopher aside with no particular difficulty, and saved the elder from further punishment.
Sally wept, thanked God, and went to minister to her parent; while the new-comer, in a passionless voice that contrasted strangely with the rapidity of his actions, accosted Yeoland.
"What is this? Don't you know better than to strike a man old enough to be your father?"
"Mind your own business," gasped Christopher, brushing the dust off himself and examining a wound in his wrist.
"It's anybody's business, surely."
The other did not answer. His passion was rapidly cooling to shame. He scanned the speaker and wished that they might be alone together. The man was tall, very heavily built, one who would naturally move with a long and tardy stride. His recent energy was the result of circumstances and an action most unusual. He still breathed deep upon it.
"I'm sure you'll regret what has happened in a calmer moment, and pardon me for helping you to your senses," he said.
"So he shall regret it, I'll take my dying oath to that," spluttered Mr. Cramphorn. "Idle, lecherous, cold-hearted, hot-blooded beast as he be."
"Get cool," said the stranger, "and don't use foul language. There are remedies for most evils. If he's wronged you, you can have the law of him. Put some cold water on his head."
Sally, to whom the last remark was addressed, dipped her apron in the brook by the wayside, but Mr. Cramphorn waved her off.
"Get out o' my sight, you easy minx! To think that any cheel o' mine would let strange men put theer arms around her in broad day!"
"I'm entirely to blame—my fault altogether—not hers," said Christopher.
