Trev was well aware of the local vernacular, but he affected surprise. "Dead? No, he is alive, very much, I assure you!"

"Aw, no sir, I mean to say, he looks a dead good 'un, sir. Them's his length and breadth, in'net?"

"And five hundred gold, you see there," Trev pointed out, "to say there is none to match him."

The stockman grinned, showing spaces in his teeth. He shook his head. "Naw, sir, I fear you'll be losing it. Him's a good big 'un you got there, but we've the biggest old bull ever you seen, right here, comin' up today from Shelford."

"Indeed!" Trev said. "But I must see this animal. Who belongs to him?"

"Colonel Davenport has him now, but 'tis his late lordship's bull. The Earl of Shelford, sir. They call him Hubert."

"Ah yes." Trev nodded wisely. "Of this bull I have had a great description. With red and black—how do you say this—the spots—ah, mottles, eh? Hubert." He gave it the French pronunciation, "Oo-bear". "I long to see him!"

"You'll see him, sir. Can't miss him, can you? He's the size of a house."

Trev turned to Callie and said in rapid French, "Good. Better to raise the challenge first, before they all learn he's gone missing." He patted her arm and reverted to English again. "And what do you think of this lovely pig, Madame?"

"A peeg of the first merit," she said obligingly, with such an earnest copy of his overwrought enunciation that Trev found it difficult to keep a straight countenance.

"Indeed," he agreed. "Great good luck to you with this peeg, mon ami."

The stockman thanked Trev with a gruff acknowl edgment. They left him turning to his curious neighbor with the broadside stretched out in his hand. From there, Trev was quite certain, the word would spread. He had planted news of a bout often enough to know how quickly intelligence could travel.

"But deplorably fat," Callie murmured as they walked away. "I cannot approve of it. She will overheat."

Trev nodded gravely. "I thought I smelled bacon burning."

She gave a gurgle of laughter under her veil but then added in a troubled tone, "It's not really a funning matter, though. It's become all the rage amongst the cottagers to show a poor pig so fat that it cannot even get up without help. I fear they suffer for it. I mean to write a letter to the society. I place full blame upon the judges for encouraging it."

He smiled. Only his Callie would champion the cause of leaner pigs for the greater good of pigdom. "I daresay they will be eager to know your view of the matter." He escorted her round a table where a woman was laying out molds of cheese in an artistic fashion.