Now, it was not easy to decide upon a course of action, because there was sure to be trouble, whatever conduct were pursued. For if my father patiently suffered Rupert Watson’s horses to occupy the land, it would amount to an acknowledgment that the land was not ours; and if, on the other hand, he drove them away, there would be resistance on the part of the Watsons, and then would come fighting. However, by the time the dancers had all tired, and the folks were nearly all gone home, my father had made up his mind. So he called up to him Jacob Trusty and Timothy Grass and Reuben Larkspur, and all our regular labourers, ten men and youths in all, and began to talk to them in the barn. “Lads,” said he, “ye know that there is a strip of meadow-land lying between Watson’s estate and mine which we both claim? Mine I believe it to be, else I would not claim it. It hath always been understood to be mine, as Jacob here will tell you.”
“Dale’s land it was, and is, and always will be,” said Jacob.
“Well,” continued my father, “for fifty years the matter has been quiet, but Rupert Watson has seen fit to break the peace at last. Tonight he has turned his horses into the land in question, thinking, no doubt, that our merrymaking would prevent us from noticing the matter. However, Miller White saw them, and told me of it. Now, I am not going to allow Rupert Watson’s horses to feed on my lands. Nor will I simply turn them out. I will take such measures as will lead, I doubt not, to a final settlement of this matter. What say you, Jacob?”
“It hath gone on long enough,” said Jacob. “Let it be settled and done with.”
“ ’Tis good counsel. Now, lads, there are ten of ye, and I make eleven. Take each of ye a good stout staff, lest we be attacked, and then follow me, and we will take Rupert Watson’s horses, and put them into pound at Darrington. Then he will have to settle with the pinder ere he can regain them, and if he likes to take the law of me, he is welcome.”
So the men, with much approval, went for their staves, and prepared to carry out my father’s wishes.
Now, as it happened, Parson Drumbleforth had gone home a good three hours before that, but Jack had remained to sleep at our house, and he and I had lurked in a dark corner of the barn to hear what my father said to the men. When we heard of the proposed expedition against Rupert Watson’s horses, nothing would content us but that we must go; and knowing that if we asked leave we should not get it, we waited till all had left the barn, and then ran away into the fields, and hid under a hedge until my father and his men came along, behind whom we followed in the moonlight until we reached the debatable strip of land, and saw the horses, twelve in number, cropping the grass. We had expected that some spy would have been sent by Rupert Watson to watch over the horses, in case of an attack; but he, fancying we should all be busy with the harvest-supper, had left them alone, and our men had no difficulty in surrounding them and driving them away. Then Jack and I ran home as hard as possible, and had only just retired to bed when my father came in to tell my mother that the younger men had taken the horses to the pinfold at Darrington.
The next day passed away peacefully enough with us, but towards night came one from Darrington, who told us that at noon Rupert Watson had ridden up in a great passion, and had demanded his horses of the pinder, and threatened all manner of violence against those who had impounded them. To whom the pinder, being in the right, and having the law behind him, made answer that he knew nought of the rights or wrongs of the dispute ’twixt Dales and Watsons, but that the horses being come into his pound, should not go thence until the pinning-fee were paid. Which fee Rupert Watson was forced in the end to disburse, and so departed, vowing vengeance on us Dales root and branch. When my mother heard this she was troubled, but my father bade her be of good cheer.
On the Saturday morning, I accompanied my father to market, my mother staying at home, which, as events proved, was a fortunate thing, for she would have been sore put about by the scene which followed our arrival in the marketplace. It was rather late when we reached the town, and, after putting up our horse and cart, went into the street to do our business, and the frequenters of the market were already gathered in full force about the Butter Cross and the Beast Fair. My father had said, as we came along, that he should probably have some words with Rupert Watson if they met, and I was therefore on the lookout for our enemy, but for a long time I saw nothing of him. In such a small place, however, we were bound to meet him, and meet him we did, as we went to dine at the ordinary. For there he stood on the steps of the inn, a tall, dark-faced man, with a look of anger and hatred on his countenance, which reminded me of his son Dennis.
Rupert Watson saw us coming along the street, and I saw him square himself so as to fill the doorway of the inn. There were some twenty or
