"Throwin' th' 'ammer!" repeated Black George musingly; "was it
anything like that theer?" And he pointed to a sledge near, by.
"Something," I answered.
"And you want work?"
"I do."
"Tell 'ee what, my fellow, if you can throw that theer 'ammer
further nor me, then I'll say, 'Done,' and you can name your own
wages, but if I beat you, and I'm fair sure I can, then you must
stand up to me for ten minutes, and I'll give 'ee a good
trouncin' to ease my mind--what d'ye say?"
After a momentary hesitation, I nodded my head.
"Done!" said I.
"More fool you!" grinned the smith, and, catching up his
sledge-hammer, he strode out into the road.
Before "The Bull" a small crowd had gathered, all newly come from
field or farmyard, for most of them carried rake or pitchfork,
having doubtless been drawn thither by the hellish outcry of
Black George and myself. Now I noticed that while they listened
to the Ancient, who was holding forth, snuff-box in hand, yet
every eye was turned towards the smithy, and in every eye was
expectation. At our appearance, however, I thought they seemed,
one and all, vastly surprised and taken aback, for heads were
shaken, and glances wandered from the smith and myself to the
Ancient, and back again.
"Well, I'll be danged!" exclaimed Job.
"I knowed it! I knowed it!" cried the Ancient, rubbing his hands
and chuckling.
"Knowed what, Gaffer?" inquired Black George, as we came up.
"Why, I knowed as this young chap would come out a-walkin' 'pon
his own two legs, and not like Job, a-rollin' and a-wallerin' in
the dust o' th' road--like a hog."
"Why, y' see, Gaffer," began the smith, almost apologetically it
seemed to me, "it do come sort o' nat'ral to heave the likes o'
Job about a bit--Job's made for it, y' might say, but this chap
's different."
"So 'e be, Jarge--so 'e be!" nodded the Ancient.
"Though, mark me, Gaffer, I aren't nohow in love wi' this chap
neither--'e gabs too much to suit me, by a long sight!"
"'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?"