And presently, as we sat there drowsing in the sun, to us came one from the "tap," a bullet-headed fellow, small of eye, and nose, but great of jaw, albeit he was become somewhat fat and fleshy—who, having nodded to me, sat him down beside the Ancient, and addressed him as follows: "Black Jarge be 'took' again, Gaffer!" "Ah! I knowed 'twould come soon or late, Simon," said the Ancient, shaking his head, "I knowed as 'e'd never last the month out." "Seemed goin' on all quiet and reg'lar, though," said the bullet-headed man, whom I discovered to be the landlord of "The Bull"—"seemed nice and quiet, and nothin' out o' the way, when, 'bout an hour ago it were, 'e ups and heaves Sam out into the road." "Ah!" said the old man, nodding his head again, "to be sure, I've noticed, Simon, as 'tis generally about the twentieth o' the month as Jarge gets 'took.'" "'E 've got a wonderful 'ead, 'ave the Gaffer!" said Simon, turning to me. "Yes," said I, "but who is Black George; how comes he to be 'taken,' and by what?" "Gaffer," said the Innkeeper, "you tell un." "Why, then," began the Ancient, nothing loth, "Black Jarge be a gert, big, strong man—the biggest, gertest, and strongest in the South Country, d'ye see (a'most as fine a man as I were in my time), and, off and on, gets took wi' tearin's and rages, at which times 'e don't mind who 'e 'its—" "No—nor wheer!" added the Innkeeper. "Oh, 'e be a bad man, be Black Jarge when 'e's took, for 'e 'ave a knack, d'ye see, of takin' 'old o' the one nighest to un, and a-heavin' of un over 'is 'ead." "Extremely unpleasant!" said I. "Just what he done this marnin' wi' Sam," nodded the Innkeeper—"hove un out into the road, 'e did." "And what did Sam do?" I inquired. "Oh! Sam were mighty glad to get off so easy." "Sam must be a very remarkable fellow—undoubtedly a philosopher," said I. "'E be nowt to look at!" said the Ancient. Now at this moment there came a sudden deep bellow, a hoarse, bull-like roar from somewhere near by, and, looking round in some perplexity, through the wide doorway of the smithy opposite, I saw a man come tumbling, all arms and legs, who, having described a somersault, fell, rolled over once or twice, and sitting up in the middle of the road, stared about him in a dazed sort of fashion. "That's Job!" nodded the Ancient. "Poor fellow!" said I, and rose to go to his assistance. "Oh, that weren't nothin'," said the Ancient, laying, a restraining hand upon my arm, "nothin' at all. Job bean't 'urt; why, I've seen 'em fall further nor that afore now, but y' see Job be pretty heavy handlin'—even for Black Jarge." And, in a little while, Job arose from where he sat in the dust, and limping up, sat himself down on the opposite bench, very black of brow and fierce of eye. And, after he had sat there silent for maybe five minutes, I said that I hoped he wasn't hurt. "'Urt?" he repeated, with a blank stare. "'Ow should I be 'urt?"