into the water; after which I filled the can, and bent my way back to the dingle.  Before I could reach the path which led down into its depths, I had to pass some way along its side; I had arrived at a part immediately over the scene of the last encounter, where the bank, overgrown with trees, sloped precipitously down.  Here I heard a loud sound of voices in the dingle; I stopped, and laying hold of a tree, leaned over the bank and listened.  The two women appeared to be in hot dispute in the dingle.  “It was all owing to you, you limmer,” said the vulgar woman to the other; “had you not interfered, the old man would soon have settled the boy.”

“I’m for fair play and Long Melford,” said the other.  “If yow old man, as you call him, could have settled the boy fairly, he might, for all I should have cared, but no foul work for me; and as for sticking the boy with our gulleys {91} when he comes back, as you proposed, I am not so fond of your old man or you that I should oblige you in it, to my soul’s destruction.”  “Hold your tongue, or I’ll . . .”; I listened no farther, but hastened as fast as I could to the dingle.  My adversary had just begun to show signs of animation; the vulgar woman was still supporting him, and occasionally cast glances of anger at the tall girl, who was walking slowly up and down.  I lost no time in dashing the greater part of the water into the Tinman’s face, whereupon he sneezed, moved his hands, and presently looked round him.  At first his looks were dull and heavy, and without any intelligence at all; he soon, however, began to recollect himself, and to be conscious of his situation; he cast a scowling glance at me, then one of the deepest malignity at the tall girl, who was still walking about without taking much notice of what was going forward.  At last he looked at his right hand, which had evidently suffered from the blow against the tree, and a half-stifled curse escaped his lips.  The vulgar woman now said something to him in a low tone, whereupon he looked at her for a moment, and then got upon his legs.  Again the vulgar woman said something to him; her looks were furious, and she appeared to be urging him on to attempt something.  I observed that she had a clasped knife in her hand.  The fellow remained standing for some time, as if hesitating what to do; at last he looked at his hand, and, shaking his head, said something to the woman which I did not understand.  The tall girl, however, appeared to overhear him, and, probably repeating his words, said, “No, it won’t do:  you are right there; and now hear what I have to say,—­let bygones be bygones, and let us all shake hands, and camp here, as the young man was saying just now.”  The man looked at her, and then, without any reply, went to his horse, which was lying down among the trees, and kicking it up, led it to the cart, to which he forthwith began to harness it.  The other cart and horse had remained standing motionless during