Already that village was awake and alert. Strange men moved about through it; within the field, under the churchyard wall, had sprung up a square of ropes and bright blue stakes--the counterpart of that besides which Mr. Merle and his friends were waiting and crowing somewhat cold on the sequestered loneliness of Ringmoor. Mr. Fogo had told Simon Snell the truth, though his listeners all laughed at the joke when they heard it. The fight, instead of taking place upon Ringmoor Down at eleven o’clock, was planned for Sheepstor bull-ring at nine. *CHAPTER XIII* *THE FIGHT* The bull-ring of Sheepstor is a grassy field of near an acre in extent, surrounded west and east with beech trees, hemmed by a road and a little river southward, and flanked by the churchyard wall on the north. Here bull-baiting, cock-fighting, cock-shying, and other rough sports of our great-grandfathers were enjoyed; and here, on this winter morning, one of the last authentic prize-fights ever fought in England was duly conducted with all right ritual, pomp and circumstance, under direction of that high priest and poet of the P.R., ’Frosty-face’ Fogo. From Lowery and Kingsett by Crazywell; from Yellowmead and Dennycoombe; from Meavy and Middleworth and Good-a-Meavy those in the secret came. A large sprinkling of local sportsmen rode into Sheepstor before eight o’clock and stabled their horses at ’The Corner House.’ Sir Guy Flamank’s friend, the young boxer from Oxford, and a Plymouth professional, were umpires for the men; while the sporting doctor from Tavistock acted as referee on the strength of wide experience and sound knowledge. Bowden and his party came down from Ditsworthy in a cart, and beside it walked Bartholomew Stanbury and his son. Simon Snell also arrived, with Mattacott, Screech and other local men. Just before nine o’clock two stout and frantic women rushed to the rectory and then disappeared up the hill towards Ringmoor. They were Mr. Crocker’s mother and aunt. As for Bartley, he arrived in the bull-ring at five minutes to nine, met David beside it and shook hands with him and his father. Rhoda stood by, clad in a dark stuff dress with short skirt and short sleeves. On her head was a man’s cap and her bright hair had been coiled small and tight on her neck. She paid no attention to Mr. Crocker. Then Fogo appeared and assumed command. With him came the Corinthian contingent, jovial and jolly, clad in the most showy and stylish sporting costumes of the ’sixties.’ The colours of both men were generally displayed. "Throw your castors in the ring," said Shillabeer, and the fighters dropped their hats over the ropes.