An' you're a nasty fightin' turkey-cock, you are----" Tom walked on without looking around, and Yap followed his example, the cold bath having moderated his passions.
"Go along wi' you, then, wi' your drowned dog; I wouldn't own such a dog--_I_ wouldn't," said Bob, getting louder, in a last effort to sustain his defiance.

But Tom was not to be provoked into turning round, and Bob's voice began to falter a little as he said,-- "An' I'n gi'en you everything, an' showed you everything, an' niver wanted nothin' from you.

An' there's your horn-handed knife, then as you gi'en me." Here Bob flung the knife as far as he could after Tom's retreating footsteps.

But it produced no effect, except the sense in Bob's mind that there was a terrible void in his lot, now that knife was gone.
He stood still till Tom had passed through the gate and disappeared behind the hedge.

The knife would do not good on the ground there; it wouldn't vex Tom; and pride or resentment was a feeble passion in Bob's mind compared with the love of a pocket-knife.