"Ye're a trifle o'er true to your name, as you once told his late Majesty yourself." "Take your hands from my horse," Dare shouted, very angry.
Several loiterers in the yard gathered round to watch the scene, culling diversion from it and speculating upon the conclusion it might have.

One rash young fellow offered audibly to lay ten to one that Paymaster Dare would have the best of the argument.
Dare overheard, and was spurred on.
"I will, by God!" he answered.

"Come, Mr.Fletcher!" And he shook the bridle again.
There was a dull flush showing through the tan of Fletcher's skin.
"Mr.Dare," said he, "this horse is no more yours than mine.

It is the Duke's, and I, as one o' the leaders, claim it in the Duke's service." "Aye, sir," cried an onlooker, encouraging Fletcher, and did the mischief.

It so goaded Dare to have his antagonist in this trifling matter supported that he utterly lost his head.
"I have said the horse is mine, and I repeat it.