"Well, an’ wodn’t tha knock dahn ony chap that framed to souse thee?" retorted Jose, undaunted still. "’Tis nobbut one more proof o’ their sperrit.—Theer, lass, theer! Jose noan wants to wrangle wi’ thee—theer, my bonnie—" His voice dropped into inarticulate murmurs as he took a fresh hold of the sheep and fell to rubbing her wool with a long arm and a knotty. "Will th’ young Maister be coming up, think ye?" asked a farm-hand by and by. "He will that, if I knaw him," said Hiram grimly. "He telled me last forenooin he war coming to see ’at ye all kept to it.—Now, lads, will ye frame, or mun I come an’ skift ye wi’ my foot? I niver see’d sich a shammocky, loose-set lot o’ folk i’ all my days. Tom o’ Thorntop, get them ewes penned, dost hear? Seems tha’d like to keep me ut laking all th’ day while tha maks shift to stir thyseln." The work went steadily forward, and soon the pinfolds on the far side of each of the two pools were all but full of ewes, shivering in their snowy fleeces. Neither did jest and banter flag, nor the gruff oaths of the shepherds as they gathered their flocks together under Hiram’s wide-reaching eye. "We mun hev a bit o’ dinner i’ a while," said Jose at last; "I’m as dry as a peck o’ hay-seeds." "I’ll warrant," growled Hiram, and for sheer contrariness went off to see that a new flock was penned ready for the washing. He gave a glance at the sun as he turned, and another across the sweep of peatland. "Begow, but it’s bahn to be a warm un, is th’ day, afore we’ve done wi’ it," he muttered. "Th’ heat-waves fair dance again ower Wildwater way. An’ yond grass i’ th’ Low Meadow ’ull be drying as if ye’d clapped it i’ an oven.—What, there’s more coming to wesh sheep, is there? They’ll hev to bide, I’m thinking, for a tidy while." "What’s agate ower yonder, Hiram?" called one of the shepherds. "Tha’s getten thy een on summat, by th’ look on ye." "There’s a big lot o’ sheep coming, though they’re ower far off for me to tell who belongs ’em," said Hiram, shading his eyes with both hands. Two or three left work and crowded about him. The flock came nearer, followed by a press of men on foot and men on horseback. "By th’ Heart!" cried one. "They’re Wildwater sheep, yond; I can see th’ red owning-mark on their backs." "Ay. Lonks they are, if my een’s gooid for owt," said Hiram. No man looked at his neighbour, and none spoke of those who rode behind the sheep, though the red-headed horsemen, sword on thigh, were twice as plain to be seen as the breed of sheep they brought to washing. Silently Hiram and his fellows returned to work; silently the Ratcliffes rode forward to the pinfold walls, while their farm-folk followed with the sheep. Red Ratcliffe peered over the wall-top of the nearer pin-fold, and affected vast surprise at sight of the busy stir within. "What is this, lads?" he cried, turning to his kinsfolk.