the boy’s grimaces and gesticulations, the Cornish man returned to his horse, and mounted him with the purpose of pursuing Dickie at more advantage.
The boy no sooner saw him mount his horse, than he hollo’d out to him, that rather than he should spoil his white-footed nag, he would come to him, on condition he would keep his fingers to himself.
“I will make no conditions with thee, thou ugly varlet!” said Tressilian; “I will have thee at my mercy in a moment.”
“Aha, Master Traveller,” said the boy, “there is a marsh hard by would swallow all the horses of the Queen’s Guard—I will into it, and see where you will go then.—You shall hear the bittern bump, and the wild-drake quack, ere you get hold of me without my consent, I promise you.”
Tressilian looked out, and, from the appearance of the ground behind the hillock, believed it might be as the boy said, and accordingly determined to strike up a peace with so light-footed and ready-witted an enemy—“Come down,” he said, “thou mischievous brat!—Leave thy mopping and mowing, and come hither; I will do thee no harm, as I am a gentleman.”
The boy answered his invitation with the utmost confidence, and danced down from his stance with a galliard sort of step, keeping his eye at the same time fixed on Tressilian’s, who, once more dismounted, stood with his horse’s bridle in his hand, breathless, and half exhausted with his fruitless exercise, though not one drop of moisture appeared on the freckled forehead of the urchin, which looked like
