He heard the audacious shots popping right and left, and going forth to have a glimpse at the intruders, and observing their size, swore he would teach my gentlemen a thing, lords or no lords.
Richard had brought down a beautiful cock-pheasant, and was exulting over it, when the farmer's portentous figure burst upon them, cracking an avenging horsewhip.

His salute was ironical.
"Havin' good sport, gentlemen, are ye ?" "Just bagged a splendid bird!" radiant Richard informed him.
"Oh!" Farmer Blaize gave an admonitory flick of the whip.
"Just let me clap eye on't, then." "Say, please," interposed Ripton, who was not blind to doubtful aspects.
Farmer Blaize threw up his chin, and grinned grimly.
"Please to you, sir?
Why, my chap, you looks as if ye didn't much mind what come t'yer nose, I reckon.

You looks an old poacher, you do.

Tall ye what 'tis'!" He changed his banter to business, "That bird's mine! Now you jest hand him over, and sheer off, you dam young scoundrels! I know ye!" And he became exceedingly opprobrious, and uttered contempt of the name of Feverel.
Richard opened his eyes.
"If you wants to be horsewhipped, you'll stay where y'are!" continued the farmer.

"Giles Blaize never stands nonsense!" "Then we'll stay," quoth Richard.
"Good! so be't! If you will have't, have't, my men!" As a preparatory measure, Farmer Blaize seized a wing of the bird, on which both boys flung themselves desperately, and secured it minus the pinion.
"That's your game," cried the farmer.