Again a thrill of awe, something like that which the demagogue in Aristophanes might have felt when braved by the sausage-maker, shot through the valiant heart of Tom Bowles. He did not like those ominous words, and still less the lugubrious tone of voice in which they were uttered, But resolved, at least, to proceed to battle with more preparation than he had at first designed, he now deliberately disencumbered himself of his heavy fustian jacket and vest, rolled up his shirt-sleeves, and then slowly advanced towards the foe. Kenelm had also, with still greater deliberation, taken off his coat--which he folded up with care, as being both a new and an only one, and deposited by the hedge-side--and bared arms, lean indeed and almost slight, as compared with the vast muscle of his adversary, but firm in sinew as the hind leg of a stag. By this time the labourers, led by Jessie, had arrived at the spot, and were about to crowd in between the combatants, when Kenelm waved them back and said in a calm and impressive voice,-- “Stand round, my good friends, make a ring, and see that it is fair play on my side. I am sure it will be fair on Mr. Bowles’s. He is big enough to scorn what is little. And now, Mr. Bowles, just a word with you in the presence of your neighbours. I am not going to say anything uncivil. If you are rather rough and hasty, a man is not always master of himself--at least so I am told--when he thinks more than he ought to do about a pretty girl. But I can’t look at your face even by this moonlight, and though its expression at this moment is rather cross, without being sure that you are a fine fellow at bottom, and that if you give a promise as man to man you will keep it. Is that so?” One or two of the bystanders murmured assent; the others pressed round in silent wonder. “What’s all that soft-sawder about?” said Tom Bowles, somewhat falteringly. “Simply this: if in the fight between us I beat you, I ask you to promise before your neighbours that you will not by word or deed molest or interfere again with Miss Jessie Wiles.” “Eh!” roared Tom. “Is it that you are after her?” “Suppose I am, if that pleases you; and on my side, I promise that if you beat me, I quit this place as soon as you leave me well enough to do so, and will never visit it again. What! do you hesitate to promise? Are you really afraid I shall lick you?” “You! I’d smash a dozen of you to powder.” “In that case, you are safe to promise. Come, ‘tis a fair bargain. Is n’t it, neighbours?” Won over by Kenelm’s easy show of good temper, and by the sense of justice, the bystanders joined in a common exclamation of assent. “Come, Tom,” said an old fellow, “the gentleman can’t speak fairer; and we shall all think you be afeard if you hold back.” Tom’s face worked: but at last he growled, “Well, I promise; that is, if he beats me.”