"Hark; he sings," cried Father Haydocke. And as he spoke a voice was
heard chanting,--

"One shall sit at a solemn feast,
Half warrior, half priest,
The greatest there shall be the least."

"The very ditty I heard," cried Father Eastgate; "but list, he has more
of it." And the voice resumed,--

"He shall be rich, yet poor as me,
Abbot, and Earl of Poverty.
Monk and soldier, rich and poor,
He shall be hang'd at his own door."

Loud derisive laughter followed the song.

"By our Lady of Whalley, the knave is mocking us," cried the abbot;
"send a bolt to silence him, Cuthbert."

The forester instantly bent his bow, and a quarrel whistled off in the
direction of the singer; but whether his aim were not truly taken, or he
meant not to hit the mark, it is certain that Demdike remained
untouched. The reputed wizard laughed aloud, took off his felt cap in
acknowledgment, and marched deliberately down the side of the hill.

"Thou art not wont to miss thy aim, Cuthbert," cried the abbot, with a
look of displeasure. "Take good heed thou producest this scurril knave
before me, when these troublous times are over. But what is this?--he
stops--ha! he is practising his devilries on the mountain's side."

It would seem that the abbot had good warrant for what he said, as
Demdike, having paused at a broad green patch on the hill-side, was now
busied in tracing a circle round it with his staff. He then spoke aloud
some words, which the superstitious beholders construed into an
incantation, and after tracing the circle once again, and casting some
tufts of dry heather, which he plucked from an adjoining hillock, on
three particular spots, he ran quickly downwards, followed by his hound,
and leaping a stone wall, surrounding a little orchard at the foot of
the hill, disappeared from view.

"Go and see what he hath done," cried the abbot to the forester, "for I
like it not."

Ashbead instantly obeyed, and on reaching the green spot in question,
shouted out that he could discern nothing; but presently added, as he
moved about, that the turf heaved like a sway-bed beneath his feet, and
he thought--to use his own phraseology--would "brast." The abbot then
commanded him to go down to the orchard below, and if he could find
Demdike to bring him to him instantly. The forester did as he was
bidden, ran down the hill, and, leaping the orchard wall as the other
ha