In truth, there appeared some reason to expect that such a result would follow from the encounter, for John Browdie no sooner saw Nicholas advancing, than he reined in his horse by the footpath, and waited until such time as he should come up; looking meanwhile, very sternly between the horse's ears, at Nicholas, as he came on at his leisure.
`Servant, young genelman,' said John.
`Yours,' said Nicholas.
`Weel; we ha' met at last,' observed John, making the stirrup ring under a smart touch of the ash stick.
`Yes,' replied Nicholas, hesitating. `Come!' he said, frankly, after a moment's pause, `we parted on no very good terms the last time we met;it was my fault, I believe; but I had no intention of offending you, and no idea that I was doing so. I was very sorry for it, afterwards. Will you shake hands?'
`Shake honds!' cried the good-humoured Yorkshireman; `ah! that I weel;'
at the same time, he bent down from the saddle, and gave Nicholas's fist a huge wrench: `but wa'at be the matther wi' thy feace, mun? it be all brokken loike.'
`It is a cut,' said Nicholas, turning scarlet as he spoke,--`a blow;but I returned it to the giver, and with good interest too.'
`Noa, did 'ee though?' exclaimed John Browdie. `Well deane! I loike 'un for thot.'
`The fact is,' said Nicholas, not very well knowing how to make the avowal, `the fact is, that I have been ill-treated.'
`Noa!' interposed John Browdie, in a tone of compassion; for he was a giant in strength and stature, and Nicholas, very likely, in his eyes, seemed a mere dwarf; `dean't say thot.'
`Yes, I have,' replied Nicholas, `by that man Squeers, and I have beaten him soundly, and am leaving this place in consequence.'
`What!' cried John Browdie, with such an ecstatic shout, that the horse quite shied at it. `Beatten the schoolmeasther! Ho! ho! ho! Beatten the schoolmeasther! who ever heard o' the loike o' that noo! Giv' us thee hond agean, yoongster. Beatten the schoolmeasther! Dang it, I loov' thee for 't.'
With these expressions of delight, John Browdie laughed and laughed again--so loud that the echoes, far and wide, sent back nothing but jovial peals of merriment--and shook Nicholas by the hand meanwhile, no less heartily.
When his mirth had subsided, he inquired what Nicholas meant to do; on his informing him, to go straight to London, he shook his head doubtfully, and inquired if he knew how much the coaches charged to carry passengers so far.
`No, I do not,' said Nicholas; `but it is of no great consequence to me, for I intend walking.'
`Gang awa' to Lunnun afoot!' cried John, in amazement.
`Every step of the way,' replied Nicholas. `I should be many steps further on by this time, and so goodbye!'
`Nay noo,' replied the honest countryman, reining in his impatient horse, `stan' still, tellee. Hoo much cash hast thee gotten?'
`Not much,' said Nicholas, colouring, `but I can make it enough. Where there's a will, there's a way, you know.'
John Browdie made no verbal answer to this remark, but putting his hand in his pocket, pulled out an old purse of solid leather, and insisted that Nicholas should borrow from him whatever he required for his present necessities.
`Dean't be afeard, mun,' he said; `tak' eneaf to carry thee whoam. Thee'lt pay me yan day, a' warrant.'
