home. 'No, never will I!'

A magpie rose from a wood near the road, jibing at him. He looked round
almost as if it had been someone laughing at his resolve, and repeated,
'Never will I!'

'Where's Hazel?' asked Reddin.

'Neither wild 'orses, nor blood 'orses, nor race 'orses nor cart
'orses, nor Suffolk punches--' began Vessons whose style was
cumulative, and who, when he had made a good phrase, was apt to work it
to death like any other artist. 'Oh, you're drunk, Vessons!' said his
master.

'Shall drag it from me,' finished Vessons.

Reddin knew this was true, and felt rather hopeless. Still, he
determined not to give up the search until he had found Hazel.

He inquired at the Hunter's Arms, but Vessons had been there before
him, and he was met by pleasant stupidity.

Vessons was of the people, Reddin of the aristocracy, so the
frequenters of the Hunter's Arms sided as one man against Reddin.

'You'll not get another bite of that apple,' said Vessons with
satisfaction, when his master returned with downcast face.

'I can't stand your manners much longer, Vessons,' said he irritably.