The shepherd steps round and strikes, and the point of his stick
just grazes Willum's forehead, fetching off the skin, and the blood
flows, and the umpire cries, "Hold!" and poor Willum's chance is up for
the day. But he takes it very well, and puts on his old hat and coat,
and goes down to be scolded by his sweetheart, and led away out of
mischief. Tom hears him say coaxingly, as he walks off,--
"Now doan't 'ee, Rachel! I wouldn't ha' done it, only I wanted summut
to buy 'ee a fairing wi', and I be as vlush o' money as a twod o'
feathers."
"Thee mind what I tells 'ee," rejoins Rachel saucily, "and doan't 'ee
kep blethering about fairings."
Tom resolves in his heart to give Willum the remainder of his two
shillings after the back-swording.
Joe Willis has all the luck to-day. His next bout ends in an easy
victory, while the shepherd has a tough job to break his second head;
and when Joe and the shepherd meet, and the whole circle expect and hope
to see him get a broken crown, the shepherd slips in the first round and
falls against the rails, hurting himself so that the old farmer will not
let him go on, much as he wishes to try; and that impostor Joe (for he
is certainly not the best man) struts and swaggers about the stage the
conquering gamester, though he hasn't had five minutes' really trying
play.
Joe takes the new hat in his hand, and puts the money into it, and then,
as if a thought strikes him, and he doesn't think his victory quite
acknowledged down below, walks to each face of the stage, and looks
down, shaking the money, and chaffing, as how he'll stake hat and money
and another half-sovereign "agin any gamester as hasn't played already.
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