But you shall see that Tom sometimes met his match. In wandering one day
in the forest he met a lusty tinker that had a good staff on his
shoulder, and a great dog to carry his bag and tools.
"Whence come you and whither are you going?" said Tom, "this is no
highway."
"What's that to you?" said the tinker; "fools must needs be meddling."
"I'll make you know," said Tom, "before you and I part, what it is to
me."
"Well," said the tinker, "I'm ready for a bout with any man, and I hear
there is one Tom Hickathrift in the country of whom great things are
told. I'd fain see him to have a turn with him."
"Ay," said Tom, "methinks he might be master with you. Anyhow, I am the
man; what have you to say to me?"
"Why, verily, I'm glad we are so happily met."
"Sure, you do but jest," said Tom.
"Marry, I'm in earnest," said the tinker. "A match?" "'T is done." "Let
me first get a twig," said Tom. "Ay," said the tinker, "hang him that
would fight a man unarmed."
So Tom took a gate-rail for his staff, and at it they fell, the tinker
at Tom, and Tom at the tinker, like two giants they laid on at each
other.
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