digory strout and farmer pendre
about this time there returned to st just a native of the parish who had made his fortune in the far west of america. he was brought up as a miner, but the discovery that enriched him was really due to his love of sport. for, tiring of work in a copper-mine, he took to trapping and big game shooting, and one day in following the trail of a grizzly in a remote gully, lit on a shallow creek containing gold. the claim is worked out now; but in some maps of the states you will see, near the canadian frontier, a small river marked digory’s creek. amongst the cottonwood and spruce trees near its source, in the heart of the great divide, the hunter built a log-cabin, hung up his traps, tethered his favourite mare and pack-horse, and devoted his whole energies to “panning out” the gold from the sand. his fortune made, he returned after a long absence to england, settled for a year in lancashire and attended coursing-meetings all over the country. it was on his native downs that he had first seen a course, and it may be that the sight of a hare before greyhounds kindled old memories, for digory strout frequently found himself thinking about his native village and the wild moorland that runs up to it. at last a longing to see the old place got so strong a hold on him that he resolved to yield to it and pay a flying visit to west cornwall. it was towards the close of a september day that the carriage which had brought him from penzance reached the high ground above new bridge, overlooking the scene he remembered so well. to the west, the roofs of st just churchtown were outlined against the bright sea; and to the north, grim and unchanged, old cairn kenidzhek crowned the bleak moorland and looked down on the lonely farms lying like islands in the waste. digory gazed on these familiar landmarks with a choking sensation in his throat, and when at length he came in sight of the row of grey cottages where he was born, his eyes filled with tears. the people of st just who remembered him when he set out as a youth, welcomed him warmly, and he resolved to spend the winter among them. his decision made, he sent for a famous greyhound he had bought, that he might enjoy a few days’ coursing during his stay.
the arrival of the greyhound was an event in the dull life of the parish, and the reason for the interest it aroused is not far to seek. the st just men, the best of judges on a rich lode of tin and the points of a greyhound, had no sooner cast eyes on digory’s dog than they recognised what a perfect creature she was. such a greyhound had never been seen in west cornwall before; and when it leaked out, as somehow it very soon did, that she had won the liverpool cup and had cost digory strout a thousand guineas, the st just men were all agog that a challenge should be sent then and there to farmer pendre of selena moor, whose famous dog, beeswing, had carried everything before it the previous season, and turned the heads of the men of buryan. no doubt a coursing-match might have been amicably arranged by the owners, but unfortunately some of the miners let fall certain taunts which reached the ears of their rivals and stung them into a state of fury. thus old enmities were aroused, the two parishes became once more involved in a feud, and farmer pendre, who was a hot-headed man, singled out strout as his enemy. digory drove about the countryside apparently unconcerned, but the feeling between the parishes grew worse and worse; and the constable at buryan, foreseeing a fray and being anxious to take part in it, sent in his resignation. matters soon came to a head. a fortnight after the arrival of fleetfoot, as the greyhound was named, a fight took place inside the quaker’s burial-ground between a st just man from dowran and a buryan man from crowz-an-wra, and the st just man got badly beaten.
this was a spark that threatened to set the inflammable material of the two parishes in a blaze; and no one knew this better than the manager of balleswidden mine, who, as soon as he heard the result of the fight, knocked the ashes out of his pipe, and went and saw the parson. what happened in the study at the back of the rectory is not known; but, at all events, parson grose was seen galloping through the churchtown before nine o’clock the next morning, and somehow everyone knew that he was on his way to buryan. when he reached the high ground near chapel cairn brea and could see the road below him, there, to his surprise, was canon roulson on his white horse coming uphill on his way to st just. they met where the parishes meet, and by the boundary-stone they discussed the best means for allaying the animosities of their parishioners.
in the end parson grose proposed that farmer pendre should send a challenge to mr digory strout, and canon roulson as vehemently proposed that mr digory strout should send a challenge to farmer pendre. each advocated the cause of his own parish with great warmth, speaking louder and louder, until parson grose noticed a man who was ploughing two fields away stop his team to listen, and then he gave in, certain that the canon would have his own way, if they argued till doomsday. their interview over, the good parsons mounted their dobbins and galloped home, only to find that digory and pendre had gone to penzance, for it was market-day there. the rivals met at the junction of the st just and land’s end roads, and what must they do, after looking daggers at one another, but race all the way to the western hotel? in penzance they moved about the streets until dinner-time with a supporter on each side, and farmers, foreseeing an outburst at the ordinary, flocked to the “western” in such numbers that sitting-room was hard to find. a chair, however, at one end of the long table was reserved for digory, who was two minutes late. strout was the coolest man in the crowded room, and seemed to be enjoying the beefsteak-pie, for he had a second helping; but farmer pendre, who sat facing him, spent the time in watching his rival from behind a huge rump of beef. the general conversation, which was fitful from the start, became hushed when the cheese came on, and digory, who spoke in his ordinary voice, could be clearly heard at the end of the room. as he happened to make some casual remark in which the words “best dog” occurred, up jumped farmer pendre and in loud, excited tones exclaimed, “ef you want to find the best dog, you must look for et outside st just.”
in the dead silence which followed, all eyes were fixed on digory, and the waiters moved about on tiptoe. digory sat turning over farmer pendre’s heated words during twenty seconds, which seemed like twenty minutes to the company, then standing up he said, “i hope i do not misinterpret the drift of mr pendre’s remark. if he means it for a challenge, i accept it. i am willing that my dog shall run against his on feasten monday for any stakes he likes to name.” the emphatic manner in which the company brought their glasses down on the table, making the spoons ring again, showed they approved of digory’s challenge, which had been uttered in a voice that betrayed no sign of passion.
sancreed churchtown.
“i accept your challenge, mr strout,” said farmer pendre, knocking over his neighbour’s toddy as he jumped up, “and will back my dog against yours for ￡50, even money; and if you’re willin’, we’ll meet in sancreed churchtown at ten o’clock on the morning you name.”
the diamond of digory’s ring flashed as he waved his hand in assent, and immediately the buzz of conversation around the table became deafening. thus was the match arranged, and a safety-valve provided for the pent-up animosity of two parishes which neither hurling nor wrestling had ever roused to so dangerous a pitch. before ten o’clock that night it was known in every hamlet in the “west country” that pendre’s challenge—for so it was put—had been accepted. in the interval between the thursday and feasten monday the subject of coursing was in everybody’s mouth, and people were surprised that neither canon roulson nor parson grose referred to it in their sermons on sunday evening.
