Note (return) — Chapter III · OVER A RIDING-WHIP

“Ess,” said Will, meeting the other’s fierce eyes; “I hear ’e, an’ so might the dead in Chagford buryin’-ground. You hollers loud enough. I ban’t ’feared of nothing a hatch-mouthed,7 crooked-minded man, same as you be, can do. An’ if I’m a hound, you ’m a dirty red fox, an’ everybody knaws who comes out top when they meet. Steal my gal, would ’e? Gaw your ways, an’ mend your ways, an’ swallow your bile. I doan’t care a flicker o’ wildfire for ’e!”