God, it was like a bloody Greek chorus! Of course, Orren turned out to be the biggest and loutiest of them all. When the massive fellow stood and planted himself before the fire, he nearly eclipsed the great stone hearth. Poll deeply regretted adding that vain touch of lace to his shirt cuffs. He lowered his hands to his lap and tried surreptitiously to tuck the offending finery into the sleeve of his thankfully rather severe dark-green superfine surcoat. He was wearing one of his less vivid weskits, too, a dignified pale blue with hardly any gold thread embroidery.

Don't mind little old me, I'm just having a pint of ale to sustain me as I continue on my long ride home. He would have simply left, but the lout brigade had multiplied to form a full platoon of the loutishly inclined. The mob had now grown past the point of safe escape and the shifting mass of muscles and coarse linen remained firmly lodged between himself and the door. Still, when the giant Yorkshireman began his tale with a certain theatrical relish, Poll paid attention. Theater, after all, was his stock in trade.

The Battle of Goose-Gogs

"It were like a battle of old, it were! The invader riding into the village on his fine high horse, the valiant defender standing his ground. With one stamp of his mighty foot, Goose-Gogs sent that fancy black horse into fits of fright! It flew off up the dale with its shiny tail flying like the flag of a general in retreat!

"Goose-Gogs boldly charged that dandified intruder. The gent was fast though, like dark lightning. He dodged old Goose-Gogs in a blur. With a fearsome foul roar, the fellow flung himself on Goose-Gogs's back with one arm wrapped 'round a great twisting horn."

"What he want to do that for?" muttered from the back row.

"Yeah, don't he know nothin' about sheep?"

Orren pointed a thick finger at the man so rudely interrupting.

"Oh, but the stranger did know something about fighting. He wrestled Goose-Gogs straight down into the mud, and he'd have pinned him there were it not for brawling with a four-legged beast. That ram scrambled up out of the mud so fast, white-hot fury glowing in his eyes! No one had ever challenged Goose-Gogs before and come out on top! No one had ever made Goose-Gogs eat dirt!"

"I thought he said it were mud."

Orren ignored the heckler. "The great warrior Goose-Gogs, the finest Swaledale ram ever bred, the pride and joy of his village and the entire dale —"

"Oh, aye and the next dale over, too!"

"This mad invader would not defeat our Goose-Gogs!"

"What did they call him Goose-Gogs for? Ain't that just a gooseberry?"

"Aye. It's because when he was coming up he had the littlest tiny —"