In answer to this,
Morton only shook his head, not feeling quite sure himself how far
a huntsman's acquaintance in that line might go, and being also too
much impressed by the occasion for speculative conversation.
"It's that scoundrel Goarly" had been repeated again and again; and
then on a sudden Goarly himself was seen standing on the further
hedge of Larry's field with a gun in his hand. He was not at this
time above two hundred yards from them, and was declared by one of
the young farmers to be grinning with delight. The next field was
Goarly's, but the hedge and ditch belonged to Twentyman. Larry
rushed forward as though determined to thrash the man, and two or
three followed him. But Lord Rufford galloped on and stopped them.
"Don't get into a row with a fellow like that," he said to
Twentyman.
"He's on my land, my lord," said Larry impatiently.
"I'm on my own now, and let me see who'll dare to touch me," said
Goarly jumping down.
"You've put poison down in that wood," said Larry.
"No I didn't; but I knows who did. It ain't I as am afeard for my
young turkeys" Now it was well known that old Mrs. Twentyman,
Larry's mother, was fond of young turkeys, and that her
poultry-yard had suffered. Larry, in his determination to be a
gentleman, had always laughed at his mother's losses.
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