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Kingsley, Charles, 1819-1875

"Hereward, the Last of the English"

However,
what is your price?"
Dirk named twice as much as he would have taken.
"Half that, you mean." And the usual haggle began.
"Tell thee what," said Dirk at last, "I am a man who has his fancies; and
this shall be her price; half thy bid, and a box on the ear."
The demon of covetousness had entered Dirk's heart. What if he got the
money, brained or at least disabled the stranger, and so had a chance of
selling the mare a second time to some fresh comer?
"Thou art a strange fellow," quoth the horse-dealer. "But so be it."
Dirk chuckled. "He does not know," thought he, "that he has to do with
Dirk Hammerhand," and he clenched his fist in anticipation of his rough
joke.
"There," quoth the stranger, counting out the money carefully, "is thy
coin. And there--is thy box on the ear."
And with a blow which rattled over the fen, he felled Dirk Hammerhand to
the ground.
He lay senseless for a moment, and then looked wildly round. His jaw was
broken.
"Villain!" groaned he. "It was I who was to give the buffet, not thou!"
"Art mad?" asked the stranger, as he coolly picked up the coins, which
Dirk had scattered in his fall. "It is the seller's business to take, and
the buyer's to give."
And while Dirk roared for help in vain he leapt on mare Swallow and rode
off shouting,
"Aha! Dirk Hammerhand! So you thought to knock a hole in my skull, as you
have done to many a better man than yourself.


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