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"
My surcoat to a leather belt, it would be you!" cried the old archer.
Ye burned Grimstone, Bennet--they'll ne'er forgive you that, my master.
"
And as for me, I'll soon be in a good place, God grant, and out of
bow-shoot--ay, and cannon-shoot--of all their malices. I am an old man,
and draw fast to homeward, where the bed is ready. But for you, Bennet,
y' are to remain behind here at your own peril, and if ye come to my
years unhanged, the old true-blue English spirit will be dead."
"Y' are the shrewishest old dolt in Tunstall Forest," returned Hatch,
visibly ruffled by these threats. "Get ye to your arms before Sir Oliver
come, and leave prating for one good while. An ye had talked so much
with Harry the Fift, his ears would ha' been richer than his pocket."
An arrow sang in the air, like a huge hornet; it struck old Appleyard
between the shoulder-blades, and pierced him clean through, and he fell
forward on his face among the cabbages. Hatch, with a broken cry, leapt
into the air; then, stooping double, he ran for the cover of the house.
And in the meanwhile Dick Shelton had dropped behind a lilac, and had his
crossbow bent and shouldered, covering the point of the forest.
Not a leaf stirred. The sheep were patiently browsing; the birds had
settled. But there lay the old man, with a cloth-yard arrow standing in
his back; and there were Hatch holding to the gable, and Dick crouching
and ready behind the lilac bush.
"
D'ye see aught?" cried Hatch.
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