The rights of it got out long after, but what took place was this, for I heard it direct from Nicholas. Whatever else he was, he was a truth-teller. One fine evening in late summer, when Yelland was walking down his field-path in a devil of a gale, because he found that folks had been breaking his hedge again for the hazel-nuts an’ running all about the meadow after mushrooms, there comed by Ben Pearn, an’ he marked the trouble an’ spoke. “’Tis a shame to see what you get for your goodness in letting folks go up an’ down your field-path, Mr. Yelland,” he says. But Nick looked at him sideways, for he knowed Ben was his rival, an’ didn’t feel like trusting him a yard. “They wouldn’t be here if I could help it. But seemingly I can’t,” he answered back. Ben nodded. “The law won’t help ’e? ’Tis a crying shame; but if I was you, I’d help myself an’ hang the law.” “I’ve tried often enough, surely. I’ve done every mortal thing that I can think of. I wish to God us was allowed to use man-traps, like landowners did in the old time. But the law’s got so weak as water nowadays. A man mayn’t even shoot a burglar, they tell me. ’Twill be a penal offence next to ax a housebreaker to leave the family Bible behind him.” “Well, there’s man-traps an’ man-traps. The meadow be yours to do what you please with, ban’t it?” says Ben, very artful like. “It did ought to be.” “You can graze sheep in it?” “Yes.” “Or cattle?” “Of course. What’s that to do with the matter?” “You might even let your great red Devon bull, as takes so many prizes an’ have got such a douce an’ all of a temper, run loose there, if you was minded to—eh?” “By Gor!” said Nick Yelland. “If that ban’t an idea!” “I judge you wouldn’t have no more trouble then, Nicholas. Better’n notice-boards. He’d work quicker, too. One sight of him would be enough for most people.” “Thank you,” said the farmer. “Thank you very much. You’m a quick-witted chap, for sartain, an’ I’m greatly obliged to you. I’ll turn him in this very evening, an’ be damned to everybody.” An’ so he did, an’ next day that gert bull was wallowing in a pool o’ mud in the middle of the meadow an’ wondering at his luck. An’ when young Ben left Yelland he went straight down to see Mary Jane Arscott. A crooked game he played, sure enough! They had a bit of love-making by the river, for she lived in a cot down that way; an’ then Ben arranged to meet her next day an’ go out upon Bellever Tor an’ pick whortleberries. But he never said no word touching his talk with Nicholas Yelland.