He was much older than the Maypole man, being to all appearance five-and-forty; but was one of those self-possessed, hard-headed, imperturbable fellows, who, if they are ever beaten at fisticuffs, or other kind of warfare, never know it, and go on coolly till they win.
'If I led you wrong now,' said Hugh, tauntingly, 'you'd--ha ha ha!--you'd shoot me through the head, I suppose.' John Grueby took no more notice of this remark than if he had been deaf and Hugh dumb; but kept riding on quite comfortably, with his eyes fixed on the horizon.
'Did you ever try a fall with a man when you were young, master ?' said Hugh.

'Can you make any play at single-stick ?' John Grueby looked at him sideways with the same contented air, but deigned not a word in answer.
'-- Like this ?' said Hugh, giving his cudgel one of those skilful flourishes, in which the rustic of that time delighted.

'Whoop!' '-- Or that,' returned John Grueby, beating down his guard with his whip, and striking him on the head with its butt end.

'Yes, I played a little once.

You wear your hair too long; I should have cracked your crown if it had been a little shorter.' It was a pretty smart, loud-sounding rap, as it was, and evidently astonished Hugh; who, for the moment, seemed disposed to drag his new acquaintance from his saddle.