` For , ' says she , ` The boys I 've picked with when I was young and fair , They 're bound to be at hoppin ' , and I 'm -- ' A man showed at the doorway . ` Well , well ! They do say hoppin ' 'll draw the very deadest , and now I belieft 'em . You , Tom ? Tom Shoesmith ? ' Hobden lowered his lanthorn . ` You 're a hem of a time makin ' your mind to it , Ralph ! ' The stranger strode in -- three full inches taller than Hobden , a grey-whiskered , brown-faced giant with clear blue eyes . They shook hands , and the children could hear the hard palms rasp together . ` You ai n't lost none o ' your grip , ' said Hobden . ` Was it thirty or forty year back you broke my head at Peasmarsh Fair ? ' ` Only thirty , an ' no odds ` tween us regardin ' heads , neither . You had it back at me with a hop-pole . How did we get home that night ? Swimmin ' ? ' ` Same way the pheasant come into Gubbs 's pocket -- by a little luck an ' a deal o ' conjurin ' . ' Old Hobden laughed in his deep chest . ' I see you 've not forgot your way about the woods . D'ye do any o ' this still ? ' The stranger pretended to look along a gun .
XXXXX answered with a quick movement of the hand as though he were pegging down a rabbit-wire .
D'ye Gubbs Hobden Ralph Shoesmith Tom conjurin lanthorn night year