"Sergeant Flint."
"I knows I can rely on you, corporal."
"Sergeant Flint."
"That will be all. I"ve got to go and see his lordship in an hour and I want some time to think. That"s what my job is, thinking."
"Sergeant Flint."
"Yes. I should go and report to him if I was you."
White chicken feathers were scattered across the field. The farmer stood at the door of his henhouse, shaking his head. He glanced up as a horseman approached.
"Good morrow, sir! Are you experiencing trouble?"
The farmer opened his mouth for a witty or at least snappy response, but something stopped him. Perhaps it was the sword the horseman had slung across his back. Perhaps it was the man"s faint smile. The smile was somehow more frightening.
"Er, somethin"s been at my fowls," he ventured. "Fox, I reckon."
"Wolf, I suspect," said the rider.
The man opened his mouth to say, "Don"t be daft, we don"t get wolves down here this time of the year," but again the confident smile made him hesitate.
"Got many hens, did they?"
"Six," said the farmer.
"And they got in by..."
"Well, that"s the strange th - Here, keep that dog away!"
A small mongrel had leapt down from the saddle and was sniffing around the henhouses.
"He won"t be any trouble," said the rider.
"I shouldn"t push your luck, mate, he"s in a funny mood," said a voice behind the farmer. He turned around quickly.
The dog looked up at him innocently. Everyone knew that dogs didn"t talk.
"Woof? Bark? Whine?" it said.
"He"s highly trained," said the rider.
"Yeah, right," said the voice behind the farmer. He felt an overpowering desire to see the back of the horseman. The smile was getting on his nerves, and now he was hearing things.
"I can"t see how they got in," he said. "The door"s latched..."
"And wolves don"t usually leave payment, right?" said the rider.
"How the hell did you know that?"
"Well, several reasons, sir, but I couldn"t help noticing that you clenched your fist tightly as soon as you heard me, and I surmise therefore that you found - let me see - three dollars left in the chicken house. Three dollars would buy six fine birds in Ankh-Morpork."
The man opened his fist, wordlessly. The coins glinted in the sunlight.
"But... but I sells "em at the gate for tenpence!" he wailed. "They only had to arsk!"
"Probably didn"t want to bother you," said the horseman. "Since I am here, sir, I would be grateful if you could sell me a chicken - "