grumbling and prating of Harry the Fift than would serve a man to shoe a

horse. And all because he has been to the French wars!"

The house to which they were bound was the last in the village, standing

alone among lilacs; and beyond it, on three sides, there was open meadow

rising towards the borders of the wood.

Hatch dismounted, threw his rein over the fence, and walked down the

field, Dick keeping close at his elbow, to where the old soldier was

digging, knee-deep in his cabbages, and now and again, in a cracked

voice, singing a snatch of song. He was all dressed in leather, only his

hood and tippet were of black frieze, and tied with scarlet; his face was

like a walnut-shell, both for colour and wrinkles; but his old grey eye

was still clear enough, and his sight unabated. Perhaps he was deaf;

perhaps he thought it unworthy of an old archer of Agincourt to pay any

heed to such disturbances; but neither the surly notes of the alarm bell,

nor the near approach of Bennet and the lad, appeared at all to move him;

and he continued obstinately digging, and piped up, very thin and shaky:

"Now, dear lady, if thy will be,

I pray you that you will rue on me."

"Nick Appleyard," said Hatch, "Sir Oliver commends him to you, and bids

that ye shall come within this hour to the Moat House, there to take

command."

The old fellow looked up.

The Black Arrow