"I'm very sorry, I only meant
it was impossible it should be the same Mr. John Clive I knew once,
though I think he came from about here somewhere. A little,
middle-aged man, I mean, quite bald and wears glasses?"
"Oh, that ain't this 'un," answered the other, his good humour quite
restored. "This is a young man and tremendous big. I ain't so
small myself, but he tops me by a head and shoulders and so he does
most hereabouts. Strong, too, with it, there ain't so many would
care to stand up against him, I can tell you. Why, they do say he
caught two poachers in the wood there last month and brought 'em out
one under each arm like a pair of squealing babes."
"Did he, though?" said Dunn. "Take some doing, that, and I daresay
the rest of the gang will try to get even with him for it."
"Well, they do say as there's been threats," the other agreed. "But
what I says is as Mr. John can look after hisself all right. There
was a tale as a man had been dodging after him at night, but all he
said when they told him, was as if he caught any one after him he
would thrash them within an inch of their lives."
"Serve them right, too," exclaimed Dunn warmly.
Evidently this explained, in part at least, what had recently
happened. Mr. Clive, finding himself being followed, had supposed
it was one of his poaching enemies and had at once attempted to
carry out his threat he had made.
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